Hideouswhitenoise, Issue 31, Spring 1997
by Guido
Can an inanimate object have a soul? To answer such questions would be like asking if there is a god, or if the light goes off in your refridgerator when you close the door. These are things you can't answer with facts, only with your feelings. I personally think the light stays on in the refridgerator and is a horrible waste of energy and have been doing a letter writing campaign to Westinghouse to stop this practise.
As for the inanimate object question, anotehr question you first have to ask yourself is can you call a bike an inanimate object, expecially when speaking of Daughter of Elephant Bike. Proud bearer of my touche around Toronto for the last year and a half. And also for vacations in SF, Vancouver and Boston.
Brought into this world a day after the death of her father, the original elephant bike, a bad card in his own right who was born in a Quebec gaol, she proved to be a brilliant strategist and good companion, but alas she did not prove to be immortal. We were going to tour Europe this year, but then complications set in and everything changed.
It started first with the front end shudder. When I applied the brakes the front wheel would vibrate and it almost brought me down a few times. And then there were other signs like rust and the top tube being bent that told me the elephant bike was not long for this world.
I loved that bike and every time I came out of a building I would appreciate her simple lines and her elegant simplicity. I would get a strange lump in my throat which had nothing to do with the amount of carbon monoxide I breathed in and thought if I just got her a front rim she would last forever. But it wasn't going to and she was old and what was I getting so upset about, it was only a hunk of metal right, nothing else.
So it was with sad heart that I rode her for the last time that day and then brought her into the shop to give birth. It started with her tires and then progressed to her headset and bottom bracket and then she was just a piece of abandonded metal in the corner, with her handlebars and stem staring up at me from a bucket like some bad horror movie.
The birth was a bit difficult, with Daughter of Elephant Bike lashing out at the Doctor's not wanting to be forgotten so soon, but knowing she was no longer wanted. She passed away as she had lived, a fighter.
When completed it stood young and decent and so beautiful, but at what a price. The Daughter of Elephant bike was gone forever and in her place was her daughter, just like her granddaddy a Devinci.
I would be a liar if I said I wasn't sad about the passing of DOEB, but like Pete from Push said, it's more of a reincarnation then a new birth. She has her mother's rims and her Grandfather's handlebars and stem. She was beautiful and I would take care of her.
Just to make sure I didn't forget, she tossed me into traffic the first real day I worked her, throwing off the freewheel that I had been nursing through the winter. It was is she was saying, "take care of me better then you did my mother, or their is going to be trouble." Don't worry, I will.
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