Tuesday I made the acquaintance of a dog named Harley. My therapist was looking after him because the pup's in the process of learning to be a therapy dog. Harley was very mellow, quiet and very thin. I'm not used to thin dogs and expressed my concern but according to my therapist the dog's healthy and eats like a normal dog.
Several times I had to stop to reach down and pet the pup. Also therapy went better than the last few sessions. Basically covered the fact that I really don't have confidence, just anger. Plus I always rather roll over and play dead rather than fight back in my defense even if I am in the right and hold an unassailable position.
To which I begged, "Help me find my balls."
C'mon, you know what I'm talking about. The Ink Spots. Louis Armstrong. The Andrews Sisters. Yeah, those performers. I got up and leaned through the back windshield to address the cop. Now I was surprised to see the back of the police car was upholstered in leather rather than the sturdy, easy-to-clean hard plastic bench.
"What're you listening to?"
The cop laughed, "Music to beat your ass by for asking stupid questions."
Sigh. "No, really."
"Eighty eight point one, man." I thanked him, sat back down and continued rolling westward.
After passing through a particularly heavy patch of fog I found myself near the Vermijo park which was a dead end rather than heading towards Manitou. I turned back and found myself near my financial institution. A platform had been erected and among the various dignitaries was Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. For those of you playing along at home that's the current President of Iran. He was collecting money for charity, pressing the flesh and putting on a good face. Later while I was coasting back towards the center of downtown I turned on a radio to hear him badmouthing the USA, the rigamarole of airport security and how his best friend forever Vladimir Putin banged his elbow boarding a plane departing our country.
Bah. Stupid politics.
Nearby was a white adobe building with black trim selling bicycles. A few people shared a sordid tale of the bike shop murders, how someone would rent a bike to a tourist who would disappear but days later the bike would be found mangled by the front end of a SUV leading to a windfall for the proprietor. Despite several investigations all involved parties were cleared of suspicion but were continued to be watched out of the corner of the law's eye. One person kept comparing these crimes to those of OJ Simpson.
And that's when I discovered my bike was missing.
