Today we sailed down the hill on our trusty bikes, playing beat the clock with the library, enormous weekend fines looming on the horizon. As we flew down B street, we saw John Munson, carrying his stand up bass. As much as Devil Baby wanted to stop and say hello to his all-time favorite musician, as he was holding his all-time favorite instrument, instead we kept sailing. “Hi John! We are car-free!” “Good for you!” he shouted after us. As we approached Lowry, another near miss for our family. “Hey, I’ve got no brakes!” I said to my son who was speeding down the hill. “Me neither mom.” We dragged our feet to a stop, just before we hit the major thoroughfare of Northeast. “We need a trip to Behind Bars.” One bike needs serious brake repair and the other needs to be sent to the junkyard. This is not fun. Papa’s bus costs: unknown.

Advertisements