full time single father, part time internet addiction.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

A story I wrote

Here is a short story I wrote

We Lived Next to A Yellow Bike

My wife and I found the perfect little house to move into. Perfect meaning the rent was cheap, and perfect meaning we no longer had a roommate. Towards the end of August we moved in, and began to get all settled in. Our house was behind a small order out only Domino's Pizza. Between us and Domino's there was a small empty dirt field that curved a little out of sight of the street. I should mention that by this time my wife was very pregnant as we were expecting a baby boy the following month. She would stay home all day, resting, unpacking and daydreaming about furnishing our little house. I on the other hand was working all week, and because it was August I was riding my bike to and from work each day.

Every evening we would enjoy having this house all to ourselves, our two bedrooms, our garage, and our deck. I personally loved the deck, as we had already acquired a patio set to use on it. In the August weather I would enjoy evenings out on the deck drinking Vanilla Cokes.

During one of the first evenings on my deck I could see a yellow cruiser bicycle that looked as if someone had ridden it into our neighboring dirt field and ditched it. The bike was laid to rest there at the end of its own tracks, unmoved, just feet before the canal. In my mind I pieced together a scenario of someone stealing the bike, quickly riding the bike down this field, ditching it, jumping into the canal, and floating away to safety. This story helped me to decided that the bike was now open to a new owner, but I knew that I should wait. I waited about a week checking on the bike everyday to see if it had been claimed. After the week was over I decided that was plenty of time for the bike to have been claimed, if it were ever going to be. The following day after work I could rightfully claim it as the new owner. I came home from work that day, so excited. I ran out to the deck to make sure the bike was still there. It was. Still in my work uniform I walked over there, through the short field, grabbed the bike and walked it back to our garage. About this time I realized the bike may be in no working condition, that I might have to now just scrap it. This was obviously no time to check, I was already very nervous, curious if anyone was watching my little adventure. Once to the safety of my garage I inspected the bike and found that the bike worked just fine and not only that, both the tires were completely full. The gears, the brakes, everything seemed to work just fine, I was even able to ride the bike.

My wife Aubrey used to have a bike of her own, before it had been stolen. She was in no place to be riding a bike anytime soon, but I insisted that she try the bike out. The bike was very unisex, something she wouldn't mind riding. Neither of us recognized the brand, but with the bright yellow color, it could be a womans bike any day. Even though Aubrey was eight months pregnant she attempted to sit atop the seat. It was at that point she realized this bike was the least comfortable bike she had ever sat upon, pregnant or not. I had a working bike already, one that I loved, and there was no reason for me to have two bikes. I knew exactly what to do, something I had learned to do during the weeks we had been moving. Something called Craigslist. Craigslist was a perfect place to get rid of old junk, make a profit off it, and meet new people in the process. Aubrey and I both decided the bike would be a perfect item for random internet shoppers.

Neither of us knew anything about the bike, the name rung no bells. It could be some collectors item, which would have warranted the theft of the thing. We were a new young couple with a baby on the way, so I felt no apprehension about profiting as much as possible from it. We researched the name, the brand, the style and found no real concrete evidence of how much it might be worth. We talked it over, and seventy five dollars sounded perfect. I posted it, claiming we had owned the bike for several years and no longer needed it. That following day I got called by ten different people all interested in the bike, every few minutes at work my phone would ring. With so many calls I began to wonder if we seventy five dollars was much to low, but money for nothing, I couldn't complain.

I was a bit nervous about selling the bike because of the way I had found it. Again the scenarios began in my head that maybe whoever had the bike stolen from them might be scouring Craigslist, see the bike and planned on catching the thief. As I was clearly not the thief I did not want to fall victim to any confusion. The seventy five dollars sounded too good though, and I decided I would just risk it. What were the chances the bikes rightful owner actually thought of looking on Craigslist for it and had been the first to call me? Very low. Out of the ten people who called I had chosen the first guy who called.

During the first few weeks living at our new house we had learned that people have a hard time finding our house. With that in mind I set the bike outside in view from the street and I sat in the garage while I waited for the guy I talked to the previous day to show up. After a few minutes of waiting a cop drove by, waved at me and parked just past our house on the street. He parked directly in front of the exact same field where I had found the bike! At that point I got very nervous, ran inside and stared out the window. Aubrey questioned my actions when she saw me staring through the blinds out at the street. I explained to her the situation with the cop and she reassured me there was nothing to worry about, and if the cop were here about the bike, I would be in no trouble at all. Despite her reassurance, I was still scared. I continued to watch as the cop never got out of his cruiser, he just sat there. I was getting stories ready in my head when the cop did get out and went across the street. Oh my.

The guy interested in the purchase of the bike finally found our place. I showed him the bike, told a few lies of its origins, and why we no longer wanted it. He test rode it around the neighborhood and really enjoyed it. He talked me down to $60 and I, under the circumstances, agreed.

While we were loading the bike into his Subaru, he told me that the bike was a surprise gift for his wife, her beloved bike had been stole from their back yard a week earlier.

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