I left the shop after one week of bike hunting. I had been on highs and lows, but had just reached the point where I wanted to be able to get around independantly of taxis and the work bus.
I bought the bike. With every metre I rode on my new toy that signified burnt cash, I played over the sale and bargaining in my head. There was little bargaining and to be honest, I was appalled with my performance. I couldn't help but feel I had paid to much but was meekly trying to convince myself that I would have spent that much at home anyway.
I was weaving in and out of traffic, missing puddles and whizzing past motorbikes whose drivers appeared to be gunning them for all they were worth. Took-tooks and buses would cut me off while vying for position and I just slipped in and out of them like a snake. My trip home took less than 20 minutes.
As I hiked up my steps carrying the new beauty in hand, there no longer seemed to be a sour taste in my mouth.