Recently, my bike, the Firemonkey, has passed away.

My bike was a second-hand Kona Fire Mountain, I bought it in June 2003 for £70 from a flying buddy. I had to walk to the airfield to pick it up from the hanger where it had been left rotting for months. This was days before I left for my first engineering job in Inverness. A pannier rack meant it could carry half of my stuff to my new home. Once there, I took the bike out in a new direction every evening and explored the city thoroughly. For the three months I was there it was my only mode of transport and main source of entertainment.

It went off-road with a new pair of knobblies that summer. Despite an arm wound, I was hooked. My flatmates thought I was crazy when I spent £250 on new parts for the bike. I learned most of what I know about fixing bikes by putting it together anew. The difference was incredible and the cromoly frame felt wonderful either on or offroad.

With all new trimmings it gained the nickname "Firemonkey" in honour of the monkey work put into it. With loaded paniers it took me to airfields far away or campsites. Loaded with tent, food, water for three, toolkit and camping gear it took on twenty eight miles of rocky tracks around Aviemore without complaining. I learned all the basic MTB skills on it, spending hours practicing bunny hops alone at night and wheelies in an Inverness layby.

I rode it in the company of friends who had £500-1000 hardtails and it held its own in the Pentland hills. I once saw it out of the corner of eye and wondered "That's a nice bike, whose is that?" I just didn't recognise it with the big tyres on.