Trauma!

Two life-altering events have transpired recently. One, I half tore off my left big toenail. Pain was minimal, minimum bloodshed. However, some of you - my faithful and numerous readers - may recall that I have a terrible phobia surrounding fingernails and toenails. The contemplation and remembrance of the event is far, far worse than the actual physical damage. I shudder, get chills and nausea just thinking about it.

Second, today two of my bikes rolled out the door, to be auctioned off on eBay. Fortunately, a local guy (thanks TK) has recently started an eBay store and will take care of all the work for me. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'd have the heart. I once donated/sold for cheap an old Paramount mountain bike (fully rigid steel, back in The Day) to a friend, but this is the first time I'll be giving up precious bikes to strangers. The TCR, with its gorgeous yellow paint, would surely wither away in the corner once the shiny new carbon bike appears, and it doesn't deserve that horrible fate of so many bikes. Centurion #3, also beautifully yellow but with mangled frame, will likely be stripped down and sold for parts. Hopefully a lot of people of "a certain age" will fondly recall the Shimano 600 parts and get some enjoyment from them.

Some people - not everyone - develop a sentimental attachment to their bikes. I am one of the sentimental types. Centurion #3, not so much, as I barely put 40 miles on it due to the mangled frame. But the TCR has proudly hauled my large backside around for 5 years now, never complaining. It was my first "modern" road bike, made of aluminum and stiff as a board. I'm sure I'll come to regret getting rid of it, but there you go. It's better suited to racing than to my leisurely rides. I hope someone buys it who will put it to good use, maybe even take it to the local criterium series and let it shine in its fluorescent yellow glory in front of admiring fans.

Do you remember the time I put cheap wheels on you, and a spoke broke during the MS150, and we had to limp along for 10 miles? Or the time Creve Coeur Park flooded, and we turned around because I couldn't bear to immerse you in muddy water?

Farewell, good friends, and godspeed.