Black Beauty

Mother Nature,
Firstly, I would like to thank you for providing me with the necessary elements which keep me alive and well. I am a ticking clock thanks to you.

With formalities out of the way we can get down to business. It saddens me to inform you that the actions carried out by your being on the date of Friday, July the 20th have caused me to reconsider the reality of our relationship. I am no ones fool. This much I can say without gloating.
On the aforementioned date you decided it would be amusing to water the region named New York City. You did this knowing very well that I was to ride my bicycle on this very day; from my home in Woodhaven, Queens to my beau's residence in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Do you know what your rain did? Of course. I can see you know, laughing from unimaginable heights at the misfortune of a biped.
Did you wish to check my perseverance? Well, it is intact. I took the train after having hoped to avoid doing so alone for the majority of this Summer. My bicycle, Black Beauty, was left behind with all her insecurities and anxieties eating away at her light frame. I know for a fact she is questioning my fidelity as I write this.
Oh, and this is not all. No, the rain was merely the slightest of offenses. When I left my home you poured it on, making sure I would not reconsider my actions; maybe I'd return to my Black Beauty and take her for a spin anyway, or maybe I would wait out your aqueous hissy fit. I did neither and instead focused on making it to the station as quickly as my pedalless feet would carry me.
I saw who I see on my commutes to and from school during the semester: Jimmy and his immaculate shoes, Timmy and his eternal staring contest with the floor, Lizzy and her preoccupation with gadgetry, Tom, Dick, and Harry. They were all present and as I remember them. Does Jimmy actually take the time to clean his shoes? What in the world is Timmy looking at? Does Lizzy's soul consist of plastic, rubber, and wiring? (iLizzy, the cyborg beast.) All these questions and more ran through my mind, none of which I could answer making everything all the worse.
But wait, it gets worse. I emerged from the M train successful; my shirt slightly laced with sweat, my eyes burning from yawning (I don't know why this happens to me), my mind able to forget all those haunting questions of a train ride past. I make my way down hollow metal stairs, probably 50 of them, until I reach the sidewalk. As soon as I reach for my umbrella, a Black Beauty herself but nothing like the double B I left at home, I realize that you had ceased tending to your garden. There was no need for the umbrella, no need to walk quickly, and no real reason existed why I had left my Black Beauty at home. She is there, in my room, leaning against a wall, in complete solitude.
I felt, and still feel robbed. Deprived of the communion between man and bicycle I seek solace in the imagining of my reunion with double B. As for you, Mother Dearest, I think it only right that our relationship be demoted to that of acquaintances. You must regain my trust after that display of tempestuous trickery.

Your acquaintance (and nothing more),
Alex Moran