the bicycle thief discount.

Walking to the bicycle shop today, awkwardly holding a mess of a mountain bike without front wheel or bicycle seat, and run into Corey, the Bike Fixer and owner of the bicycle shop on my way down. We make brief conversation. Corey inquires as to where the front wheel is. I give him the 10 second story and continue inside to where Andy, another bike fixer, Corey's employee, greets me.

I repeat the story of the stolen front wheel. And, point out that the bicycle didn't even have the quick release so this particular thief had to work for his takeaway. Andy points out that I have bad luck with back tires -- my bicycle had been in a week earlier injured by a piece of glass.

Corey walks in a few minutes later, "Hey, Andy. Give her 10% off of all the parts."

Me, "Ah, the back wheel stolen discount. Thanks."

Misunderstood.

Cho and Shee are the two Burmese refugees I've been teaching English for the past two weeks. None of us know enough of the same language to fully explain what we mean; our stories and explanations are communicated mostly in broken English and through gesticulations.

We meet on Mondays and Thursdays. Today, I was running late to our meeting and ended up locking my bicycle (well, Katie's* actually) up at the Community Center just south of National Avenue and west of 6th Street. I race the final two blocks to our meeting place.

Cho and Shee usher me into the house, asking, "Bicycle?"

"Yes, yes. It's two blocks away. Not a big deal. I can walk and retrieve it later." Last session, I left my bicycle a 15 minute walk away from the house; so I appreciated their concern for my well-being.

Shee persisted, "Bicycle, here, walk; bicycle, here, walk."

"No, it's okay. I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

Shee laughs. "Bicycle, here, walk; bicycle...walk...here."

I laugh at what seems to be a misunderstanding. "Really, it's fine. I'll be okay."

. . . .

Two hours later the session ends. By this point, it's pouring rain (what are the chances?); huge, ominous, cumulus clouds are hanging out low to the ground; lightning is doing its job and the sky is aglow with thunder rolling ever so closer. Me, without rain jacket, as usual. But I'm optimistic. I've ridden through worse.

We bid farewell. I take off sprinting in the direction of the locked bicycle only to find the bicycle without a back wheel.

Somehow in the previous two hours, a bicycle tire thief came out with his/her toolkit (these wheels not being in the quick release wheel family), loosened the nut and bolt combination that secured the wheel, and off the wheel went with no trace. And, at a community center, nonetheless. The irony.

Next English lesson:
"Bring bicycle here or there will be no wheels."



* I've been sorely amiss without my bicycle this week. It's being repaired at the bicycle shop down the road. New chain, sprockets and a broken spoke are its ailments. In the meantime, my roommate Katie lent me her bicycle which is now without a wheel.

When my bicycle and a car door had an unfriendly meeting in 2006

From an email by one of my hospital attendees and emergency contacts, Heather:

All,

While reading what I am about to tell you, please keep in mind that it was 45 degrees outside, the day this occurred. That’s right…45 degrees, on December 31st. What’s wrong with this picture???? Also, please keep in mind that Milwaukee isn’t a very bike friendly community, unlike Portland, Oregon, where bicycles are the main mode of transportation.

Kate received a new bicycle on her birthday. She had plans to ride it on the bustling thoroughfares throughout Milwaukee. It was a brisk afternoon before New Year’s and Kate had a few errands to go on. While riding through the 3rd Ward, a soccer mom in her unnecessarily gigantic Suburban decided to open her door. Within seconds Kate’s bike became quite familiar with that door. Kate flipped over her handlebars and went head first into the concrete in front of Coquette Café (The scene of my 21st birthday). The suburbanite, apologized profusely, while Kate’s co-worker, who happened to be across the street, looked on. Kate proceeds to tell the woman that she’s fine and doesn’t need to go to the hospital. Instead, she calls her friend Jeff:

Kate: “Hi Jeff. What are you doing?”

Jeff: “Just looking for some songs in iTunes. What are you doing?”

Kate: “I was just in a bike accident. Do you think you could come pick me up and take me to the hospital??”

In no time, Jeff was at the scene. Since Kate and I live conveniently in the same building, I joined them on their trip to the hospital. Just when you thought this story couldn’t get any more bizarre, after Kate was patched up, we went to Bella’s Fat Cat for din din and guess who we saw there??? Matt M. with Ian H., the MU class of 2005 senior speaker. (By the way, Tom’s other girlfriend, Emily W., was on the treadmill next to me earlier that day.) That night Kate and I watched an appropriately titled movie, for the occurrences that day, Crash.

Why the long email you ask? If there is a moral to this story, it’s this. While Polar Bears are drowning, due to the melting of the polar ice caps and the general deterioration of our planet Earth, please remember to wear your helmet while riding your bike in late December. As we can all recall, our friend Tom was in a bike accident that was witnessed by his roommate Jae and a Jesuit and my dad did a header down a hill, into the gravel not too long after.

Wear your helmet and don’t be a stupid suburban mom either!!!!!

(If something unfortunate does happen though, please treat yourself to a delicious chocolate shake and butter burger. It hits the spot.)

---

* This unfortunate meeting happened on the eve of New Years' Eve in 2006. Email reprinted here as a reminder to me. Thanks to Jeffrey for saving me from the Third Ward and forever teasing me about my phone call to him. And, thanks to Heathre and Jeffrey for making my hospital visit ever more entertaining than it would have been had I gone with the Suburban-driving woman who's car door met my bicycle in such an untimely and unfriendly manner.