What arrived was not a nimble urban runabout; it was a 30-kilogram (65-pound) slab of forged alloy that handled less like personal transit and more like an uncooperative anvil. I put fewer than 50 kilometers on the clock before the sheer misery of wrestling that unbalanced battering ram across door thresholds and into elevators permanently cured my enthusiasm.
For the subsequent four years, the Ghost was placed in covered balcony exile. It sat there, occasionally plugged into the mains, soaking up the weather, slowly losing tire pressure, and occupying prime patio real estate that was meant for morning coffee and river watching. Even with the financial ledger balanced, watching an expensive piece of hardware slowly forfeit its battery capacity to calendar aging was a constant visual rebuke. It was easily the undisputed heavyweight champion of my personal regret purchases.
Today, I finally executed the eviction. Loading that awkward, front-heavy mass into the back of Kimchi, our Hyundai Kona, required dropping half the split rear seat and engaging in some serious lumbar gymnastics, but I got it done. I hauled it across the Fraser to a dedicated repair shop in Surrey.
The shop will patch the flat, bench-test the 52-volt battery, and pass it along cheaply to someone who actually needs the transport, whether that is a newcomer establishing a daily commute or a teenager whose family budget cannot stretch to a vehicle.
The flat tire is now a workshop project, the balcony is officially liberated, and four years of domestic buyer's remorse have been hopefully converted into an honest piece of community mobility.