RIP: Beloved Bianchi Bike

It's a sad day in Swizzleland. My beloved bike was stolen. Who does such things? It's rusty and worn and not worth nothin' to nobody except me. And it's gone. All I have is forlorn looks at every bike rack I encounter, hoping, just hoping that the criminal mastermind, the genius, the card-carrying Mensa member with pair of bolt cutters who stole my bike happens to slip up. Ahh man. That bike carried me through traffic and wind and rain and sleet and pot holes. Bone chilling cold, searing summer days, and ink black nights with nary a complaint. Sure I never really did the maintenance I needed to. And sure it'd broke down at inopportune moments. But it was a thoroughbred. A trusty steed. A panacea for all that ails the humble office worker. It was a bike that I logged about 8,000 miles on (in seven mile increments) over a decade. Maybe even more. It was a part of me and now.....it's gone. So in memory of my beloved Bianchi, I offer the last bike diary ever filmed. My grief is so severe I may never do another bike diary again. Just like when John Bonham died. You know the drummer from Led Zeppelin? The surviving members of the band were asked if they'd get another drummer and all they could say was........"How do you replace something like that. Even thinking about a replacement is unthinkable. Led Zeppelin died with John." And so it has. At least until the reunion tour.