Velominati › Plight of the VMW

“I now pronounce you Prophet and VMW. You may go for a ride.”

Plight of the VMW

by brett / Nov 6 2013 / 83 posts

He didn’t really want to be awake at this hour, but it was the only way. Or one of them, at least. Because he wanted to spend more time with her, he would rise before the sun, making use of the small window between their entwined slumber and the dirge of another day at the office. But still she saw those stolen hours as time he could be spending in her company. She never said it, but he knew…

He didn’t want to give her up, nor the bike. Why should he have to choose? He loved them both, of course, in different ways. She never asked him to make a choice, she knew how much it meant to him, and she knew how much he meant to her, and her to him. There would never be one or the other. There never could. He would always be shared between her and the bike, though in the literal sense, he truly only loved her. In some strange way, she felt lucky for this.

He had made concessions, a ride conveniently forgotten, waylaid, postponed. Still, it seemed to her that he was always flitting off to the trails, always managing to squeeze in another loop. There was never enough time in the day, he would lament. Always tired, both of them. His energy used for the ride, legs and back dully aching, mentally drained, too fatigued to do anything but sleep.

They were not interested in fighting. I don’t want to fight, she said. He didn’t want to either. Rather than fight, they simply wouldn’t talk. When he told her that he could never give up his bicycle to another man, her reaction was one of bemusement. It’s just a bike, she said. His contemptuous retort indicated otherwise; he would never give her up to another man, it’s just not done. Same with the bicycle.

She accepted, if not understood. How could he compare her to a bicycle? He couldn’t, she was the most important part of his puzzle, one that had taken an age to find all the right pieces and fit them together. Some pieces could be interchanged, but not that one. She never wanted to be a Velomiwidow. He would see to it that she wasn’t.

Flesh and blood, steel and rubber, heart and soul.

// La Vie Velominatus

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