The magic is fading, and now my eyes wander elsewhere. It was fun for a while, a love affair really, but now the love is drying up. Have you ever had a lover who, after the initial torrent of affection, began to let themselves go? This is happening with Karkharoth. In the beginning he was all ferocity, all viciousness, all powerful. He ran down and devoured those in his path without fatigue, without pain, without injury. He was invincible. But he has started to slip; gears, handlebars, brakes, they all slip. Every second day I have to take things apart, rebuild them. I wonder, is it like this with every bike named after a fictional wolf of Evil Infamy? He still darts in front of speeding cars, still chases backhoes, but when he does these things now it is always with groans of protest. He doesn’t have the same vigour he once had, he’s old beyond his years, and can’t be trusted in traffic, so I look elsewhere. I should have known this would happen when I christened Karkharoth such. Just as the real (fictional) Karkharoth was eventually destroyed by that which empowered him (the Silmaril in his belly), so is my Karkharoth being destroyed by the power that makes it run, namely, my monstrous thighs. Its frame has proven too frail for the power that flows through me, so I look elsewhere.
I’m in the market for a superior steed. I need something that can match the might of Odin himself, and not crack under the rigours of battle. I need a Valkyrie, in touring bike format, that can carry me to my own
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