December 16, 2004

Canadian Tire, why aren’t your bikes super anymore? I don’t like it when things come apart at the seams. My bike was supposed to kill me, not the other way around. Canadian Tire, is my ass too big? I want to ride my bike summer and winter through all eternity, not break down in a ditch. Do you ever talk to the Japanese, Canadian Tire? Do they teach you about unbreakable frames. Why do you make me suffer? Do you want more money? Can you replace my purple monster?

Somehow Sherry had foreseen the disaster. We were talking about handjobs late one night, when she suddenly changed the subject and asked me about my bicycle. “Is your purple monster dead yet?” she asked.

“No, Canadian Tire bikes are virtually indestructible,” I assured her.

“Well, if it does die we must have to have some sort of ceremony,” she persisted. “The thing is … umm … legendary.”

“My bike survived the 2000 km trek across Southern Ontario,” I said. “It’ll survive anything.”

Two days after out conversation, my bike snapped into pieces in a parking lot. Tears froze on my cheeks. I wanted to swear in different languages. Yes Sherry, now we can bury my purple monster in a heap of sorrow.

Canadian Tire, we need to talk. I’ll tell you how to build super cycles.