Monday, August 5, 2013


Is it sad that I could, without even thinking, name, in descending order, my three most valuable possessions? One night last week, my third most prized possession was stolen while I worked. I clocked out, left the store at midnight, took the short stroll less than half a block to the bike rack where I always parked my bike. When I got to the rack, there were three bikes there, and none of them were mine. I stood there like a cow looking at a new gate. The spot I left my bike 7 hours earlier, was empty. My heart sank, that bike was my only mode of transportation, my freedom... now what? Oh, how do I get home tonight? It's late, I can't bother anyone this late. I walked, thinking, "I will just walk home. How long will it take me? But, there are some dark place on the trail home, I can't walk, it wouldn't be safe. Everyone would yell at me when they found out." By this time I had walked eight blocks. With a big sigh and tears of defeat welling up, I pulled out my phone and called a cab. It cost me $15 for a 15 minute ride home. That is a rip off, but I felt I had no other choice, I paid it.

My bike was not of great monetary value, but it was MINE. It was my sorce of freedom, I didn't have to rely on anyone to drive me around. That was taken away from me, and this made me very sad. I have fond memories of that bike.

Like nearly everything that goes on in my life, my Facebook friends read about the theft, so my daughter contacted me. When I was at their home a few days earlier, they showed me the moped they bought from a friend. They didn't tell me they planned to fix it up and give it to me. Amy and Bill thought they better tell me of their intensions, in case I get a wild hair and go out and buy me a moped, because I have been wanting one.

My bike did not have a name, but this moped does; Scoot-Scoot. Amy sanded and painted it, a couple broken parts will be replaced, and she runs good. I just needed to learn how to ride her.

I went to Amy's house, and between Amy, Google and I, we figured out how to start the thing. I took it around the block to get used to it, and it is fun! Chuck has already lectured me on the proper riding attire (most importantly....helmet), so my mother and brother won't have to.

A moped does not have to be insured, and you do not need a motorcycle license. They get good gas mileage, and you don't have to pay for parking, there is usually designated parking space in front of every business, or within a short walk of where you want to be. No longer will I have to wipe the sweat off when I arrive at work... this is going to be great. God truly does watch out for me, and I have a wonderful daughter and son-in-law, and I love them very much. Thank you guys!

From now on, every bike I see with a collapsible basket mounted on the side, I will make sure it is not mine. If I ever see my bike again, which I probably won't, but if I do, I am going to beat the crap out of who claims it to be theirs.

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