Sayonara, Fuji-san

     Some people just like to have things.  For these people, the simple state of possession fills them with a satisfaction that is easy to achieve and hard to let go.  I am one of those people.  Fortunately, my wife is not one of those people, and so the compromise is that I can have things but only the most important of things to me.  Although I am resistant most of the time to part with these possessions, I mostly agree afterwards that it wasn't that big of a deal.  The act of letting go is usually more difficult than the period afterwards where you simply don't have the item.

     Some time ago I came to the hard realization that keeping my beloved Fuji S12-S touring bike just wasn't the best idea.  This was mostly brought on by the very slow-coming realization that the bike was just not comfortable to ride.  I have known the bike was too big for me for a long time.  My "fitted" frame size is 58cm... the Fuji is a 62cm.  Too much of a jump.  But I could still throw my leg over it and pedal it around, and in ideal circumstances it wasn't that big of a deal.

     But in less-than-ideal circumstances, such as logging miles on the side of the road alongside traffic, the bike became too much.  Away from the safety of the secluded bike path, the too-large frame was a little too unruly.  Too much of a reach to the bars, and too much of a reach down to the down tube to shift gears.  I stopped enjoying the ride.

     I also began remembering my time on my Cannondale when I first got it.  That bike felt so alive under me!  I would go out and just ride it for the sake of riding it--something I never ever felt compelled to do on my Fuji.  A couple of months ago when Keri and I tried out a bike path to the west of Portland, I thought about riding my Fuji--and decided against it, opting for my mountain bike.

     In an ideal world, Keri and I would own a house.  We would not feel compelled to move for several, several years, if at all.  And I would have space to store the Fuji, to occasionally pull it out, dust it off, and pedal it around for old times sake.  But this isn't that ideal world, and space is scarce.  The next time we move, I don't want to box it up again.  I currently have two bikes that are still boxed up from the move to Portland, simply because they take up less space in a box.

     So I let the ole Fuji go.  I posted an ad on craigslist for $350, and today I met up with a young gentleman who gave me the full $350 for it.  It was kind of hard letting it go but it was just time.  I had some good times riding it and better memories working on it.  The bottom line is that one day I realized I was more attached to it as simply a "thing" or a machine, and not as a bike to be ridden.  And a bike that isn't ridden, isn't really a bike.

     Sayonara, Fuji-san

The last picture I took of it, the one I used in the craigslist ad.  I had left everything on the bike except for my Brooks Saddle (of course) and my nice MKS touring pedals.  What you see here are the originals.
Taken on July 15, 2015

The bike's final rendition under my care, minus the addition of toe clips on the pedals.  Sure was pretty.
Taken on December 14, 2014

The day I bought 'er, in all of her 1980 glory.
Taken on August 12, 2011