Sometime in March I think my brother and his wife breezed into town for the weekend. It's the third time in three years and it always puzzles me. They aren't interested in the theater. I don't believe they go to the movies. They don't particularly like nightclubs, although I did get them down to the legendary CBGB's on their next to last visit. They love the Yankees so there's always an obligatory game at the stadium. They always stay in the same hotel. Almost everyone in my family can be described as a creature of habit. We seem to find comfort in the repetition. I fight against it much much harder, but guilty as charged as well. Anyway we hung out in restaurants with my cousin and his wife and wandered around the city aimlessly. A habit I highly recommend you get into as some of my best days have been spent leaving the apartment with no idea where you're going beyond "out".
In any case, toward the end of their visit we stopped for a bite to eat in a small but really good restaurant near my apartment. Before dinner was ordered they handed me a card. Being right after my birthday I figured that was it and thanked them.
"Open it."
"Oh, OK."
I wasn't expecting anything as traditionally we only exchange Christmas gifts. I opened the card and inside was a gift certificate for the bike shop down on 14st.
"To replace the one that was stolen."
"Holy Shit! Thanks!"
Now, truth to tell, this gift certificate was for $140.00. I know that bike shop I've been in it many times and you are not getting a bike for $140.00 from there. But it would give you a good start on a $240.00 bike and if I only had to spend $100 or so on a new bike, that would be a plus. Besides I don't know which idea came first, the visit or deciding to try and replace my pilfered peddler or coming all the way down to 14st to a bike shop near my house, but regardless I was a little stunned and truly touched by the effort.
Flash forward to this week, and poor bike-less me. Shortly after that day in March I visited the bike shop and indeed the going rate for a decent bike coming out of that shop was around $250.00. Add in accessories, a padded seat (I'm delicate like that), a good lock, a basket with daisies (for groceries!), and it looks like I'll need to spend a good $175 or more to replace my other bike. And I have to say, I've thought about that bike every few weeks since then. But something always came up money-wise that took precedent. Such is the level of my Jenga Finances that pulling the wrong block at the wrong time makes the whole tower come crashing down.
But good sense be damned the weather report for this week was looking OK and Memorial Day signaled summer and summer signaled bike rides through Central Park and lo and behold I send the Con Ed bill to the phone company and the Verizon bill (those fuckers) to Con Ed. The rent can be late, and eanie-meani-chili-beanie! I gots me a new bike!
And she's silver and blue and shiny and I named her Bertha after my grandmother 'cause she was silver and blue and shiny and one mean old bitch. And the only thing I have to say to the cursed individual that stole my bike last year this does not lift the pox I laid down in a jihad against you and your loved ones and if you're thinking of coming to snatch this bike. Don't.
Ain't she purdy?
No comments:
Post a Comment