Farewell to Hank

After a year and half of tumbling over speed bumps and pot holes, of deflated tires and burst tires, of spongy brakes and no brakes (!), of curb sides and sidewalks, my dear bicycle Hank has finally thrown in the towel out of sheer exhaustion. And rightly so! I had abused poor Hank shamelessly while knowing full well that he was a vintage bike. He’s been around since the 1970s so naturally when bikes age, like people, their parts become rusty and worn. But I, still so naïve in many ways, had dismissed his ailments as superficial. When Hank’s wheels hiccuped, I feigned interest. When his original brakes stopped working, I replaced them with flashy new ones without giving it a second thought as to whether or not they would cheapen Hank. After a while those brakes just didn’t feel like Hank and they now stopped working.  

The list of abuse continued with repeated careless abandonment tied to bike posts, overnight, in sketchy neighbourhoods, and often in the rain and snow. By the end, Hank was covered in more rust and more grime than he was when I first bought him from the kind old man with the pony tail.

The glorious pony tail of wisdom and virtue

According to this gentleman, he kept the bicycle in nearly mint condition for over thirty years. It was made by a company called Ross that decided to diverge from the sporty, straight framed road bikes which were becoming the trend in the late ‘60s, and instead started to manufacture compact, curved frames. The gamble inevitably backfired and the company went out of business a decade later. The American Dream right?

The origin of Hank’s name can be traced back to a very bizarre conversation between a friend and I when both of us were extremely drunk. Bits of that night are still a little hazy but I think we were semi-arguing, semi-joking about Hank’s rusty weird shaped frame, which thinking back now is a completely idiotic thing for two grown adults to be fighting over. Nevertheless I was self-conscious about my new bicycle’s appearance next to the other sleek, straight framed road bikes parked nearby, thus we decided to create a back story for my new bike to toughen up its image. 

This is what we came up with. First, that he was definitely a he, and a very masculine he with capital “H”! A war veteran of not just one but two wars, he had dents and rust all over his curvy frame as well as a missing kickstand but by darn it he was still a man! He was also not ashamed to be sporting a basket tied to his handlebars – a human equivalent look would be a grown man wearing a fanny pack. When it came to name him, I decided that he should have a very lumber-jack/plumber/construction worker/tough guy name and Hank immediately popped into my mind.

Last week, I donated Hank to the local community bike shop to be used as a refurbished rental. The decision was not an easy one, but he will be carefully looked after by people who know how to attend to his needs as well as be enjoyed by various city commuters like myself who can’t afford cars. I shall pour a 40 on the sidewalk tonight for my homie Hank, he will be dearly missed. 

A picture of me and Hank. That was a good day.