The Odds Are Still In Our Favor
Shoot. I just realized I said The F Word to my mom on the phone last night. That’s not cool – even if you’re in the middle of petty crime induced despair. At this rate, I’ll never win Best Christian.
So eventually, the police showed up. I sat out on the curb as the restaurant went dark and the parking lot emptied and the hoodlum foot traffic took over that little dead end nook of Nicollet. And I read the incredibly kind emails from all of you guys – and I thought how good people are, how nice they are to care about a silly bike owned by someone they don’t know in a town they’ve never been to.
Eventually the Pho Tau Bay owners came out and asked why I was waiting and they were appropriately horrified and clucked sympathetically over me. And young nephew Tony, my favorite server, announced he was waiting with me in the dark and would drive me home himself if it came to that. And so we sat, me pretending I wasn’t crying, talking about his studies and Hanoi and how he’ll go back in two years. How he hates snow. And I thought – this is why it’s good to be a regular somewhere. So Tony the server cares enough to sit down beside you on the curb and wait to fill out a police report with you.
In the end, a colossal and sharp Officer Troy gave me a ride home. And we took the long way through the fifth precinct and talked about what he likes about his job; What he thinks about the guys at the top of the force – “the politicians.” I told him I used to love to go on State Patrol ride-alongs when I worked at the Senate. And he laughed, mocked them a little and asked how bored I got. And so now I have Officer Troy’s card and a standing invitation to do a Minneapolis ride-along which brings me one step closer to my dreams of living in a Law and Order (preferably SVU or Criminal Intent) episode. Also, I think it is probably just a good idea to know a cop.
So I woke up today and laughed a little at my very rich night of self pity. And then thought about what a good bike you were and how much I will miss you. Thought about how I bought you on Craigslist, from a crunchy grad student who maintained you meticulously and looked a little sad when I steered you away from his apartment. Later, even after I paid him cash, he mailed me your manual…as if you were a baby I had adopted, whose history I needed to know from the very start.
I thought about how many miles you carried me this summer. About the early days in which rides on you were maybe the only times I smiled – standing up and peddling so hard towards something…maybe to freeze time…through the unseasonably cool air of June and July. And August and September when I started peddling away from something too – toward real movement and actual crossing.
I thought about all the photo expeditions you took me on and the nurturing farmers market loot you carried home reliably. About how much Actual Joy I’ve gotten from you in the past few weeks where I more than smile, I sing out loud at the top of my lungs and hold my own in the traffic to the lake and grin at the assholes who shout rude things because THIS IS UPTOWN and we have the right of way here. Thought about hanging out with the cool old guys at the bike shop down the street and watching them alter you bits at a time, learning a little more about this mysterious greasy world of quick release tires and right pant legs rolled up like gang signs. So now, somewhere out there you have a rack, fast and thin new tires for Saturday’s race, a beautiful saddle bag – everything to help carry me and the things I need in life. Everything I needed to keep my head outside, untethered and untouchable in the open air. And my legs moving on.
Thanks for being my best friend this summer and for never once failing me. I’ll really miss you.
