Hog two is about to go

My second and most favourite-est hog is going tomorrow.

   Any street cred I may have once attained has trickled away with inverse proportion to my advancing age, so I no longer even have to make the feeble attempt to look cool. And that's part of the problem. Where I once sneered at cold, now I just shiver. And realistically it's just the wrong bike for getting to work.

  This isn't my own bike of course but it's a close copy although not nearly as cool.

   I'm going to buy a scooter and even after admitting that I'm ancient and about to join the ranks of teens and old men I still can't bring myself to sully my blog with a photo of it.

   Is this what it's like to get old? Because going to work on the tube when it's too cold to ride my girly scooter is going to a big come-down - even if it is a little warmer.

   I'm trying to come up with a smart line for rejoicing my decrepitude but I can't.

   I think I'm just going to have a little cry.