Stella

If you didn't know her, you'd call her an old cuss.

She's been around the block, Stella has, and she loves the animated conversation that arises from sharing tales with someone else who has a few gashes and scuff marks like hers.

Yeah, THIS one? Know that uphill rock garden in the north loop at Wirth? Man, 3/4 of the way up every time....

Remember that tree across the Ojibwe? Caught the front derailleur....

This one -- car rack -- can you even believe....

Well, there's a new horse in the stable. He's a bit pretty, and you know how those pretty types can be. Underneath they're nice enough, but hanging out with one means restraining the foot-tapping while they learn the ins-and-outs and get their first bruises. Just like that uptight cousin from the right side of the tracks, this one will soon realize that mud and sticks are good for the soul.

In the meantime, he's wearing red. Bright red. Candy red. Smooth, melted, shiny, red hot, run-your-hand-along-my-toptube-and-feel-the-gliiiide red, with a...get this...WHITE fork.

PAINT...on a mountain bike? Please.

She sighed as she was loaded into the back of the wagon first, leaving the good spot for the newbie.

Here we go again.

On the trail, though, he took the downed trees in stride and hit the rock garden in fine shape the first time over.

Thank GOD he's not a namby-pamby....

The first paint scratch was pretty mild so it didn't hurt too badly, but she knows that first saddle biff will come, that decal scrape, the gummed-up cable housing, first paint chip, and she'll be there with the tough love.

Get your arse back out there, it happens to all of us, get over it, we'll talk about it later over a few beers.

She's seen it before.

- OB and no, the new one isn't mine, it's The Sweetie's