Wood Fire Food

It truly pains me to write this, but here goes.

Yes, I realize that a bicycle is not edible nor is it made in a brick oven, but this story is only too miserable to not share with the blogosphere. I intend that your dining on my misfortune will provide at least as much nourishment as a few pictures of baguettes.

This all begins with my laziness yesterday afternoon; I leaned my bike up against one of my roommate's cars, a seemingly harmless act that would lead to disaster. At some point in the evening he left, and being a great friend another roommate noticed the bicycle and set it aside so they wouldn't run over it. Problem solved, right? Unbeknownst to me it was behind my truck. This morning it's cold, rainy, dark - horrible biking weather, so as a change of pace I drive to school. Everything is fine, nothing is wrong. I come home and what do I find? A crumpled bike, laying helpless in a puddle, a sick sight indeed. What lowlife human could do this? What the hell is the matter with my roommates? They run over my bike and don't even tell me about it? No, this is a huge problem, I'm pissed.

I soon realize my version of the story is a bit construed.

A mass text to my roommates says, "Did I leave my bike behind a vehicle??"

A few responses I receive-

"Yes, you left it behind your car"

"Yes I believe your own"

"I saw it this morning behind your truck"

"Oh no.. You killed it. Bad?"

I did a horrible thing. I never even knew it happened. I'm sorry young fixie, you were mine for two and half years. Seriously, I am very upset about this, you were great to me. To the streets in the sky you go; I'm just sorry it had to end like this. Your cranks, seat, and wheels will go to good use when I create your son. Goodbye.

For a 'before' picture, just imagine a not-mangled bicycle.