Not because of the 1 hour, 4 minute ride in this morning, the Harlem Line, and perhaps others, positively crawling from Scarsdale to the South Bronx due to a disabled car ahead of us.
No, it is sad because I retired my station bike–the intrepid Trek that got me to and from the station most every day for over five years–the other day.
Much of those five years has involved rain, which apparently is not good for a bike left out at the station.
A few weeks back, the chain snapped. Snapped! Broken steel!
I love those bike dudes up in Chappaqua, but I just could not justify putting another 100 bucks into the old ride. (How the Julio Bicycles guys loved the site of the Trek–“the station bike!” they’d yell, while envisioning how they would clean up and fix this poor, neglected member of the bicycle family.)
And it is indeed old. I bought it off my old NYC roommate, occasional Trainjotting New Haven Line correspondent G. Francis, probably around 1996. He recalls buying it a few years earlier, perhaps at the bike/skate shop just east of Broadway in the Village.
It lived chained to a staircase between our sixth floor walkup and the roof in our Little Ukraine tenement.
Then it moved uptown, literally and figuratively, living in an assigned basement spot in fancy Gramercy.
Then it was put in a moving truck in 2006, and headed for points north, then garage living, and daily trips to the station. It was the first bike ever chained to the Hawthorne station bike rack after it was installed several years ago.
Now it’s in the garage for good, with no chain–too broken to fix but too handsome for the garbage, replaced by a cheapo WalMart special. With a cheesy kickstand.
Thank you, Trek, for getting me to/from the station each day, and giving me an extra 14 minutes per day with my family, compared to if I had to walk.
I know you look unloved after all those days in the rain.
You are not.