Somebody has stolen my bike. Or maybe they borrowed it. Because if they knew how much this bike means to me, I am sure they will be returning it shortly.
I have heard of people getting their bikes stolen.
I found this bike in a garage in Logan. The owner of the house said I could have it. A couple weeks later we found a clone of it at a used bike store that was todd's size. Yes, by some magic todd and i had twinner schwinns. We pimped our rides. And now someone has stolen my bike. I am speechless, "spoke"-less.
Going around town with out that bike is like going around with my shirt off. Or leg off. It is awkward and sad. I went everywhere on that little guy, commuting, shopping, errand running, recreating. It makes me want to do this:
I would have rather they stole my car. I hope the proceeds are feeding a family of seven living in a dingy cellar. I can see no other reason why someone would take it. Maybe if we all work together and shop at a lot of pawn shops, we can find it. Like Elizabeth Smart. (I am not comparing the losses.)
The other day we were at Carlo's Kitchen in Rose park when two missionaries came in. I was feeling bad for them because, well pretty much just because they are missionaries and have to wear the same clothes everyday, have to be with weird companions sometimes, always have to get up early... so I gave them a five dollar bill to buy a cookie. Assuming that is how they would spend it because that's what I would do. It was consequently the last of my cash.
The next day was crazy and I stopped at the "supermercado" to get something to eat. I was having a really bad day, and thought this would be the ticket. I had to walk thru one of those rotating metal things that they have at Lagoon for line management to get in the store. After a long and painful process of me trying in spanish to order tacos, then switching to a burrito I miraculously got my food and was so happy. I reached to pay, but remembered my check card had expired. Then I looked for some cash, but the missionaries had it. So I wrote out a check. The girl looked at me weird for a while. Then she got her manager. There was quite a few bystanders watching us carefully. They examined the check and me for a while and then said 'sorry' and reached over and took my burrito out of my hands. I turned to leave shamefully and then I remembered the missionaries...I was sure she would say, "oh just take the burrito!"... because she would be inspired. Then in real life she said, "Miss!" and I joyfully turned around to go back and get my burrito. But instead she just handed me my invalid check.
And then I got stuck in the rotating metal thing. I could feel the pitiful looks and sighs people were giving me. Then I sat in my car and had a short cry... and who should I see ride by on their bikes a small moment later? The missionaries.
So I guess that's how it turns out sometimes, but in a way we still came full circle.