The Sad Bicycle

Oh the stories it could tell.
Against the little sapling,
Duct-taped seat and all,
Rusted paint and tiny frame.
Azure, assured.
The Sad Bicycle.

It reminds me of all the stories you're supposed to have, most likely will have, when you're done with first year. Everything is, hypothetically, happening for the first time. First time away from home, a whole lot of first mistakes, first failures, first triumphs.
As much as it pains me to say this, not all of these stories need be inebriated stories. Partying is fun; getting dressed up, going out with friends, having a good time, and collapsing exhausted into bed in the wee hours of the night. These are the Drunken Nights, what you talk about over waffles on Sunday morning, what you remember with smirks or grimaces. They may provide the most outrageous or comical subject matter, but sometimes it's the events you go to with a few close friends and make fun that are better... and easier to remember accurately.
For what we soon realized was the first weekend since September, my friends and I embarked upon The Weekend of Sobriety. Friday was quiet, tasteful, and all about bad slasher flicks, and then on Saturday - brace yourself - we played boardgames. Yes, it sounds like that last-ditch effort a drowning man makes for the surface, but it actually turned out to be really fun AND we still had inside-jokes come out of it. Added bonus: the biggest mistake anyone of the night made was during Catchphrase:
"What continent is under Europe?"
"Asia!"
OR
"Where do you go on vacation?"
"Brothels!"
As much as it is fun to party and be stupid on the weekends because you really only get this chance once - when we all graduate into "the real world" we'll also have to be "adults" - in fifty years I don't want to remember my first year of university through a haze of frat parties, random dance parties in common rooms, and poker games, but I want to remember activities I did, and places I explored; concrete events that the really good stories come from.
Something tells me The Sad Bicycle didn't get to its present state by going crazy with the power of being a "grown-up", being on your own, and having access to certain substances, but by whirring down a hill full-speed, taking aimless long rides with fantastic views, rusting through all types of weather, and skidding when the road got too slippery.