Two wheels on my wagon

I took The Beast into the Cycle Surgery yesterday, waving it goodbye with a heavy heart. The reason for my sadness actually had more to do with the whopping great bill they promised me on my return than it did with the fact that I will miss my baby.

My bike ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. It’s heavy and cumbersome, and won’t prop up against anything for more than 3 minutes. This means that when I need to get something from my panniers, or tie my shoelace, for example, the Beast will behave until I am in a compromising position, and then fall on me.

I knew that it was due for a service, but I was holding out in the hope that someone might steal it. My last bike, which I loved with a passion, was stolen within two weeks of purchase. Fortunately the insurance forked out for this incarnation, but new and shiny as it looks, it is obviously thief proof. I came out of the office once a few weeks ago, and saw a very suspicious looking man checking out my wheels. Instead of fiddling with the lock, and attempting to take the Beast to a new home he threw it a look of disgust, spat on the wheel and abandoned the scene of the potential crime.

So, here’s the damage:

New cogs: £25
New chain: tenner
New brakes: £7.99
New front light: £20
Service and misc charges: £40

I’m thinking of buying a car.