Mine isn't thrilled with her new slick tires. We zip and zoom over the country hills (okay, sometimes she's dragging me and sighing as I grunt and snert and puff up to the top)... then she sees a little bit of poached singletrack running off into someone's woods. It's all over.
"Let's go! It'll be fun! There'll be rocks and sticks and trees *gasp* ANDDIRTANDFUNTHINGSANDYOUCANJUMPMEANDWE'D HAVE FUN!!!"
I look at her sternly and say "Not with your little thin smoothies, missy. Besides, I've got a bag full of groceries and it's 90 something out here."
"*whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine* But it'd be fun!"
"No." But by this time, I'm eyeing the trail, too.
"You know you want to..." The front brake squeaks a little as I start rolling forward onto the trail, and I have to pull her back onto the path and give a forceful pedal to get us down the street and out of sight of that... temptation.
"You'll pay for this," she grumbles, in her fashion.
True to form, as I'm creaking and groaning up that last huge gravel hill on our stupid gravel road, I try to shift to get a little more out of my burning thighs, and... *CHAINSUCK*. I pedal backwards, then try again. *CHAINSUCK*. GRR. MizCakes giggles merrily as I swear and pop off the bike to pull the worn chain off the sprocket and turn the pedals to get everything in its right place again.
"****!!!"
"That's my name, sweety," she smirks haughtily.
God, my bike has some **** attitude. Anyone else want to deal with her for awhile?