Ground Control To Major Jake

Ground Control To Major Jake.
Your top-tube's dead,
there's something wrong.
Can you hear me, Major Jake?
Can you hear me, Major Jake?
Can you hear me, Major Jake?
Can you....

As a result of the altercation a few weeks ago, the Major Jake cyclo-cross bike has a hefty dent in the top-tube, of the kind that isn't too beneficial for aluminium. It's time to say goodbye.

It's been a rollercoaster few years full of giggles and tears. Sure your 135mm spaced rear-end has been a real PITA to get wheels for, and your 30.0 seatpost was awkward to begin with and you've always been a little short, but over time we've overcome these little difficulties and got along just dandy.

You spent a whole winter with slicks on in the guise of a road-bike,
I crashed and broke my arm on you, and still you saw me through turbo-trainer recovery and on-road back to fitness, I attempted the South Downs Way on you and you saw my soul leave my body at Ditchling Beacon, we've done a brace of 'cross races, a few HONCs, and you've been used pretty much exclusively through the worst of the weather from October to March every year for more half-tarmac/half-road rides than I can even hope to remember, pretty much just treated badly throughout your entire life and put away dirty.

Yes, I know you know that my head has been turned by your 2009 version (and not just for its longer top-tube and handy standard road wheel sizings, it's just so darn pruddy) and it was only a matter of time, but I didn't want it to finish like this.

Like taking the ageing Labrador for a final walk on the heath before the visit to the vets, our one last ride was the local 'cross race, a place of friends and little traditions and pain and fun in equal measure. It was the least I could do.

I'm sure there was a little bit of a pull to the left and I'm sure the dent crept a bit bigger, but you didn't fall apart on me and you got me home. A good day with a gentle undercurrent of sadness.

So long old friend, I'll miss you.

xx