RIP Helen; Hi Benny

If you know me, you should know that I’m in a very serious relationship… with my bike. Helen is the Maserati of bikes. You think you rode/ride a nice bike in college? Think again. A sea foam green Electra beach cruiser with Hawaiian flowers and all the bells and whistles (literally) that you could imagine. She had a cute and perky (not to mention loud) matching flower bell, a useful yet decorative white basket, and even a cup holder. With three speeds, she was constantly keeping my tired legs from working too hard (that 1st gear was so clutch after a rough workout), and she rode like a beaut. The first day I got her was the absolute best day of my life; no judgement please.

As I left for summer, I gave Helen some loves and told her I’d see her again in August; we were both so excited to have yet another year cruising around campus together. Cruising, by nature, is her favorite activity. But when I got back to school after a long and lonely summer without her, she wasn’t where I had left her! I know she wouldn’t have left on her own accord because she told me said that she would wait for my return; and a promise is a promise. So, I called DPS (Department of Public Safety), and reported that Helen was GONE. They told me that they had impounded her and that they’d look for her in their warehouse space.

So I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited… and waited. Nothing. I’ve been so tired of walking to class and practice it’s not even funny. Like not even a little. And not only am I tired of walking, but I’m pretty sure all of my friends are tired of biking the pace of walking because I’ve been bikeless. But even more than that, I MISS HELEN. My life just isn’t the same without her. When she rolled into my life a few years ago, I finally felt true happiness and pure bliss; she defined the meaning of life for me.

Yesterday I went to the bike graveyard to look for her, and she was no where to be found. I was there for hours looking for my sweet baby girl. The DPS officer (such a nice guy) informed me that lots of bikes are stolen from the impound sites–most commonly Electra beach cruisers. Greaaaaaat. Exactly what my little girl is. So where is she now? I have absolutely no idea. But I will never stop searching for you, Helen. You will always be my sweet baby and you will forever cycle in my heart. Rest in peace, Helen Wheels; you are deeply missed and loved.

In the meantime, while I continue to search for my girl, I’ve been left with no option except to choose another ride. Because nothing will ever compare to my Helen, I decided that selecting a beach cruiser is a tall order (and I don’t mean the Starbucks tall); I have the absolute highest expectations for a bike now. It’s like I’ve been in a Maybach and now I’m rollin’ around in a 1971 Ford Pinto. Exactly. Case in point. So, I decided to pick something different: a Fixie Thruster. His name is Benjamin–Benny for short (he is much shorter than Helen). It’s just a trial period, and I don’t know if this relationship will be functioning and healthy, but I’m hoping so.

Helen, if you’re out there: you are my pride and joy. You made every 5:30am wakeup call that much more enjoyable because when I walked outside? I knew I got to spend at least a few minutes with you before practice. We’ve had our ups and downs (figuratively speaking; USC is pretty darn flat), from getting my pants wet because I sat on your cute Hawaiian flower seat after a rainy night and you chewing up that pair of Lulus in your spokes, to blazing down the Greek Row and dancing to Single Ladies at 1am; the memories are endless. I will never forget our time together, and I hope you won’t either–regardless of your new owner.

My only wish for you, Helen, is that you are taken care of and that you aren’t scrapped. No one likes being picked apart and torn in so many different directions–humans and bikes alike. You were such a phenomenal friend and more than that, an unconditionally loving soul. No matter how many cookies I had or how bloated I was feeling, you always hauled my hiney around without a single complaint (except that weird tick you had from needing your chain oiled; I never got to take care of that for you, and I am so sorry).

I love you, I love you, I love you, Helen.

Sweet dreams and rest peacefully, my dear.

All my love,

Your mommy

Helen Wheels

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