Seller's Regret

Being from small-town/rural Maine, I've always been a mountain biker. Since I moved to Connecticut, two years ago, I have only been mountain biking a few times. While living in Hartford, and even since I moved to Windsor, most of my riding is on the road and is mostly destination-oriented. I love this city/suburban riding- riding fast, feeling the pull of traffic, and stopping off for ale and snacks. Stupidly, as part of my attempt to build an unemployment fund for when my contract ends on September 4th, I sold my Raleigh M-80 mountain bike. Not less than two weeks later, my old bad-habit-inducing college buddies decided we'd be getting together in Colorado for a weekend, and we'd be doing some mountain biking.

As I've been ill of heart lately, I have been spending a preposterous amount of time restoring the broken-down 1974 Sunline slide-in truck camper that is sitting on sawhorses in the yard of the house I stay at in Windsor. New floor, new walls, new framing in the front quarter, new running lights, and lots of paint, putty tape and caulk. I'm driving this camper to Colorado to rendezvous with my college buddies, but I'm sickened that I won't have my mountain bike.

This is the third time I've experienced seller's regret, and I have yet to learn my lesson. The first two times were whitewater kayaks- forgiving kayaks that had carried me through danger. I guess sometimes you need the money, and sometimes you need to save storage space. In general though, selling these things is a bad idea. The sweat you put into bikes and boats makes them worth more than some schmuck could ever give you in a crass, internet-orchestrated transaction.