Songs

Every once in a while I see something in one of the bicycle mags that is supposed to be witty or profound.  Usually it’s a question along the lines of,  “What does your bike say to you?”

My bikes don’t talk.  They do communicate, and I do listen.  They each have names.  I don’t often share those names with others.  The names all arise from charateristics of the bike.  Over time, each machine seems to suggest some connection or quality the evokes a name.

My bikes don’t talk to me.  They sing.  Each bike has a song.  Perhaps it would be more correct to state that each bike is a song.

There’s a soprano, who is higly cantankerous, but well worth the efforts.  I have one terrific, low-maintenance bass.  There’s a couple of altos.  (An alto is a soprano who can read music.)  There are a couple of baritones, steady and of good wind.  There’s even one who doesn’t sing much, but rather plays a mean percussion section.  (Polyrhythm of course!)

Why do you think we call it a “tune up”?