bikes

2021-08-14

My good friend Ydoc and I were riding bikes around downtown in this crowded little area where the streets intersected each other at odd angles. (It might have been a dreamscape version of the little triangle area close to the library downtown.)

He was all excited and animated, leading me through the streets, whereas I was a little hesitant because I didn’t recognize the place and didn’t know my way around.

He decided that we should get some espresso, and started riding his huge orange bike up on this narrow sidewalk, through a crowd. I followed as he pushed his way into a tiny espresso shop, and the barista scolded us, “No bikes inside the coffee shop! Get out!” So Ydoc chuckled and lead us straight back outside again.

I was working as a camp counselor at an online summer camp. Except all the kids and other counselors were at the camp–this gorgeous meadow in the mountains full of wildflowers, with a stream running through the middle–but only I was remote, joining the group via Zoom on my laptop.

I overheard Ydoc and some other counselors talking, and they said something about his bike being stolen.

“Wait, Ydoc, did I just hear that you lost your bike.”

He grimaced and sighed and said yeah, he lost his bike on the creek trail a couple days ago at that spot by the confluence where the trail shoulder swells out into a kind of natural amphitheater.

“A couple days ago! Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been looking this entire time!”

And then suddenly I realized that my bike too had been stolen, so I got a new bike which was a weird looking mountain bike with tiny little hard wheels, like those from a skateboard. I hated it and decided to return it.