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Ok, so I found someone (editor's note: corporations are people) selling a restored classic eye-talian bike made by a member of the old frame building nobility, with the thin tubes and external cables that you ladies seem to be "ga-ga" over, and I finger fucked it for a while, and you know what. I think that cured me of my delusions. It was beautiful to look at but it was pig heavy, the wheels (light and elegant as they were) were basically pizza cutter medieval torture devices with absolutely no clearance for anything bigger than 700xUnnecessarySuffering, and the whole thing looked like it had not just reached a dead end of technological advancement but had slammed into "the wall" as is the tendency of women of cis experience, and boeing death machines.
I shall now be pursuing my n+1 in the form of another dickbreak bike, but I'll find some characteristic that will be different for the sake of being different thereby making it compulsory that I spend my next tax refund or escrow overpayment check on it instead of doing something socially responsible with it.
