a minor crash

I thought I loved my motorbike! He was a dusty old geezer—the loud and frumpy kind—that coughed and spluttered every time I started the engine, that was a little stiff when it came to turning the corners, that squeaked every time I clenched the brakes. But it was part of the charm. It was part of hte _____. He was lacking, but so was I. Together, we took on the highway and other cars as a team; me in my infantile state, him in his wheezy, _____

And then he died on me.