Yesterday's Propositions

Proposition Number One: At the bike shop, I added the numbers the repair dude threw at me. It added up to a lot of dough. He had a proposition: buy a new bike, as it will be not much more expensive than repairing the old. Out with the old; in with the new. Indeed, he had a sale, and as I did more math I came to the conclusion that he was right, especially since the bike in question was more than 30% off.

My bike is now ten years old and is showing its age. I have replaced the entire drive train 4 times and it needs that done again plus a new rear wheel, new bearings in the front axle, brakes, cables, tires... In fact, only the frame is still good. The salt and winter weather really kill bikes. I could take a course in bike repair, or invest in some good books, and attempt to repair the old bike. On the downside, it was slightly more money than the repair, especially with new fenders.

In the end, I did what Running42K did, and bought a new bike.

Proposition Number Two: My phone rang just as I left the shop and I found myself speaking to a dude from a certain University asking me if I would like to give $$$ (250, in fact) to them. The money was to be used specifically for the library. What's more, the University will double that $250. So, I would be giving the library $500 so it is sort of like a sale in reverse. I have already given that University thousands of dollars in tuition and I had just dropped some cash on a new ride, so I said nyet. Some day, when I am feeling old and benevolent, munificent even, I may open the wallet. I have three alma maters (is that the correct plural?) so this is always a tough decision. But, I feel that one ought to give back to the institutions that gave me so much, but not right now.

Proposition Number Three: I heard a "hi baby" and then a hand on my arm as I walked my new bike to the curb, getting ready to saddle up for the first time. I was eager to get her back to the house and look at her in familiar light, maybe get out my wrenches to remove the toe clips, gently fasten my bell to her handle bars, attach my headlight holder, and wonder if it is too soon to ride her in winter. It might be pushing her too much. The rain had started and I worried that she would get wet and start to rust. My mind was filled with these thoughts when I felt someone touch me.

I turned to see the hand of a haggard woman reaching out for me. She carried a mild look of desperation in her eyes, from what I could tell anyway. I mean, no one looks good under sodium vapor street lights. It's just as bad as when the lights are turned on after last call and the bar keepers are trying to close up the shop. Some people are clearly alarmed when they look at the person they have been speaking with. This women (clearly a street walker, or perhaps someone critically short of cash) was offering me a good time. This is not something one gets offered every day, but this is not the best part of town, it seems.

A couple of months back, a crazy women showed me her underwear, not by lifting her skirt, but by holding them like some sort of placard. They looked clean enough with no visible markings, but I was not quite sure why she did this. Did she want me to purchase them? Who can say? And, I should point out that they were huge, like my mother wore or wears.

I declined two of the three propositions and, as that fat man - whom I once inadvertently called Batloaf - sang, two out of three ain't bad.