On Saturday Roger took me to music school. Then I bought a new cycle cleaning brush set, and did the full job of soapy water, rinsing, white spirit, drying etc and he looks fabulous. It was with great pride that I noted the complete lack of rust on his chain and gears (I often see other people who cannot claim this honour), I used expensive water-repellent lubricant and buffed his frame. I cleaned his tires and picked out any grit. In short, I gave him the bicycle equivalent of a spa day.
Then I locked him up and he remains where I put him. Ready for Mr Weenie to use him whenever he wants to.
This morning I took public transport as I'm planning (and hoping) to pick up the new bike this evening. I'm still undecided on what to call him. I may just call all my bicycles Roger, I like the name and my friends and family are now fully accustomed to the phrase 'I'll take Roger' as an indication that I'll be cycling. But I'm still slightly inclined to call the next one Reg as Roger has a very special place in my heart. To be honest I don't think I'll know until the handover has taken place. Sigh.
In other news a friend has bought a Pashley Poppy. It's bright pink, single gear and it's gorgeous. I may be committed to practicality, but my God I'm jealous. I've been promised a viewing when it arrives. Obviously she's not going to RIDE it. Heavens no, a bike such as this one is to be admired, polished and fussed over. Proof if proof was needed that cycling can bring out the lady in all of us.