Summer Stroll

Our bikes were stolen at every house we lived in. Some people might have started bringing their bikes inside. Some people might have stopped biking altogether. And we would, for a time. We would moan and groan about how unlucky we were. How the world was out to get us and tragedy poked at every turn. We would swear off biking for the rest of our lives and resign ourselves to walking. Through the fall, because our bikes were always stolen in summer, we would walk and talk, and all we would talk about was how much we loved walking. The gentle breeze, the crisp air. Then winter would come. Wrapped and stuffed we would walk and talk and all we would talk about was how much we hated walking and how much happier and warmer we would be if only we could get our heart rates up with a good bike ride. Alas spring. Beautiful, beautiful spring. It truly is the perfect weather to bike in. So we would scrounge the internet for junky used bikes. But they never really seemed quite right. They didn’t feel “like us”. Inevitably we scrounged the internet for slightly less junky bikes and slightly less until we spent too much on bikes that were too nice and we’d lean them up against the house, or loosely lock them to the railing of a porch and take a step back and admire, our sweet perfect bikes, leaning together just like us.

So, when we woke up the September morning after our bikes were stolen, we walked. First we walked the dog, which was much the same and to be expected even if our bikes were still secured out front. But they weren’t and so we walked her with more agitation, moving faster and then slower haphazardly, confusing both the dog and leaving us all even more agitated, thus satisfying us in a new way. Then we locked the dog inside and walked ourselves to the cafe down the road from the cafe we liked better because though punishment was in order so was reward. At the worse cafe we had breakfast and worse coffee and we sat outside in the shade but then found ourselves to be a bit chilly so we switched to the sun and harrumphed.

We sipped on our coffee and ate until we were full and then ate a bit more. And we discussed the state of our bikeless life. How were we going to get to work? How were we going to get to the grocery store? How were we going to have any fun at all? Though when our spirits got too low and our moaning perhaps too loud we glanced around, eyes saying sorry to the other patrons, but also double checking the bike rack we had already checked, to see if the stolen bikes had appeared. And when we felt ourselves sighing with disappointment we looked down at our half empty plates and our full bellies and discussed how the person who had stolen our bikes undoubtedly needed them more, and so it was all right that they had taken them. We said it through clenched teeth, but meant it all the same.

We paid inside because that is what they told us to do and I asked for a box for my leftovers which was too small and the waitress watched while I bent up the corners of my half a sandwich to squeeze it in and bits fell on the floor and I apologized through clenched teeth and didn’t mean it. We walked to the river and up and over the bridge to the park. Not the fancier arching bridge but the more standard, straight one, near the elevator we would be using, should we have, for example, two perfectly working and in our possession bikes. But we did not, so we walked past the elevator and to the standard, straight bridge and used our own two feet to walk up the steps, across, and then down the steps on the other side.

And once there we sat on a concrete ledge and stared at the swinging bench until the young lady on the swinging bench got up. Then we walked quickly enough so as not to lose our new bench to someone else but not so quickly that if we did they might do something embarrassing like ask us to sit with them. The swinging bench squealed quite intrusively when it swung and so we were pleased when the man reading on the swinging bench to ours got off and biked away on his bike which we had already glanced at through the corner of our eyes and determined was not either of ours, taken in the night. We relaxed and I ate my sandwich half, which I had been too full to eat ten minutes before, but after experiencing the inconvenience of carrying it four blocks I decided it was worth being a bit more full. The sun being really very hot, and the open bench offering no shade, we stayed not long before crossing back up the stairs and over the bridge and descending back down the other stairs and onto the street.

We walked down that road and then this one, peering around corners and squinting our eyes to determine if we saw what had been ours the day before but now belonged to the person who needed them more. We spotted a new bike store and casually but excitedly walked in, eager to tell someone else about our pitiful situation. After receiving the sympathy we craved, we pretended to consider buying one of their bikes on offer though really we were still holding on to the hope that ours were leaning against a building, or being thrown into an alley just around the next corner.

The hunt unsuccessful, we hemmed and hawed over each turn and each step. Certain they were just to the right when we went left, or just behind when we went forward. Not to mention the sun was hot. Not to mention we were thirsty. Not to mention they needed them more than us. Not to mention that each step took us further from home and should the hunt remain unsuccessful we would surely be walking home.

And we did walk home.

And with that walk we wondered to each other how long would it take to walk to work? Not too long. Not great, but doable. How long would it take to walk to the grocery store? Actually not long at all! How long would it take to walk to the various cafes we frequented? Not too long, not great, but doable. And then we wondered to each other if there was anywhere we couldn’t walk to? Or if in fact walking wasn’t the very best way to get around?

And so we walked in the door and the dog howled and eyed us as though he knew we had been walking and there was no good reason he hadn’t been invited other than he pulls too much and sometimes growls at children. And we regaled him with our tales of the day and told him how much walking was in his future and that those five pounds the vet told him to lose would be shed in no time at all! And he wagged his tail, telling us that hadn’t he always said walking was the best way to get around? And the cat meowed in agreement, or meowed because he was hungry or meowed because he was bored. He wasn’t quite as good at communicating as the dog and so we shrugged our shoulders and opened the door for him to go play. And with the door open and the sun setting a chilly breeze slipped in, perhaps the first chilly breeze in a long time. And we looked out the door onto the porch and watched that twinge of a breeze blow dust and dirt around where our bikes had been until you couldn’t even tell which railing they had been locked to and we sighed right back at that puff of air and said our goodbyes. Summer was over, and so were we.