The bike carrier still has the little sticker on it that identified it from when we moved to Nogglestead almost ten years ago.
While this might be an indicator of how we’re not serious cyclists (we’re not, except for my beautiful wife, who hasn’t been especially serious lately), it’s also an indicator of the fact that two of us (the boys) have had small bikes, and they could fit in the back of an SUV.
And when I needed to take my bike to the two outdoor triathlons I’ve done, I could easily throw it in the back of my late beloved pickup truck.
Now, though, times have changed; we’ve gotten the thirteen year old a full sized bike, and we will have to convey both his and mine to the Republic Tiger Tri in three weeks.
So now I can peel that sticker off. I did it for a long time with great pleasure because each was a reminder of the little damages done to our dryer and piano when six men and two trucks moved us from Old Trees to Nogglestead, and to leave those stickers on any box in the store room rubbed salt into that wound.
