Goodbye to all that

Guv 1

 

I’ll hear no more the hollow thrum of cream tyres on the road,
The steady tick of Sturmey-Archer gears,
The creak of saddle leather, or the bright ping of the bell:
I’ll not return triumphant, with heroic tales to tell
Of up-hills conquered, down-dales dared and compliments bestowed;
Farewell to days of grace, and golden years.

The heart, so long ascendant, finally bowed to common sense;
My ruined bones prevailed in the end.
Though now we’re put asunder by infirmity and pain,
If I had my time over, I would do it all again;
And these haggled tens and twenties are but little recompense
For all I’ve lost: what price a faithful friend?

And so I say goodbye to steel; hello to alloy frame,
Flat bars to save my back, low gears my knees.
No more merino jerseys, plus-fours, goggles, cap and tweed:
A by-the-numbers rider on a dime-a-dozen steed.
These roads and lanes we knew so well will never be the same.
A foreign country, filled with memories.

 
 

Finally bowed to the inevitable and put the Guv’nor up for sale. What with my dodgy back and osteoarthritis in my knees, I just couldn’t manage it any more. A sad day indeed. N.

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4 thoughts on “Goodbye to all that

  1. Old age becomes a creeping sense
    that nothing is quite right,
    But surely there is recompense
    In knowing that the flight
    Of tires upon the road to joy
    Is driven straight by handlebars
    That make an aging man a boy
    while biking to the stars.

    A splendiferous poem announcing a sad event that all of us face sooner or later in the fading of youth and the gaining of wisdom, Nick. What a poem!

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