Chuck at behind bars is not a very social creature. Broke my heart today to hear a tale of how he lost business again because he sometimes appears to be a little gruff with his customers. We love him, gruffness and all. Today we were on our way (late) to Boom Island to meet up with the Urban Unschoolers. Cool group of folks. We stopped to see Chuck at Behind Bars and to buy a kick stand. Tears, tears, tear from both kids, and we ended up with 2 pairs of biking gloves to go with the kick stand. Biking is an expensive sport. To have a bike shop in our neighborhood is divine. Stop there. Don’t let Chuck scare you away. It is at 208 13th Ave NE in Minneapolis.  My kids love the shop more than any other in the neighborhood.

Anyway, as we were leaving, I told him the tale of my brother’s van, fence and house getting in the way of a high speed chase. My brother was asleep in his recliner like an old man. Glad he is okay. This is my local brother, the real estate agent. Be sure to buy a nice strong house from him. Check out these photos:

This was where the drunk hit the house. Bet the city attorney drops the charges so the County Charges will stick. That’s what happened with our felon.

This is where the fence used to be, but the drunk ran right through it, missing two huge boulevard trees. This guy was being chased by the police. Wanted for a hit and run. Lovely. Glad there will be some felony charges.

So, Chuck quotes me some figures from the CDC that I didn’t know. Less than 1,000 bikers died last year, but hundreds of thousands of motor vehicle fatalities. Cars are coffins. Or at least that’s what the t-shirt says. Yet another reason not to own one.

I thought about those figures all the way home, even though I don’t remember them, and I’m too worn out to find them on the CDC website. That hill seemed bigger today. Instead of having The Big One heft the Devil Baby up the hill, I pulled him on the Kona. Biker Mama, one of the Urban Unschoolers says I need to toughen up. I made a face at her when she mentioned that we should meet in Southwest Minneapolis. Toughen up? She is right.

On the way home, devil baby dropped the $20 gloves out of the burley, “just for fun”, and I had to leave the kids and backtrack to find them. The Big One needed the restroom so we stopped at the Hotdish King’s house. Luckily Mama Hotdish was home with her 2 little tator tots. I love Northeast.