Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Was It the Bike Ride, the Hot Dog, or the Labyrinth of Chance and Consequence?
It had been too long. With all the papers to grade, the prison workshops, Thanksgiving, and the need to find new tenants after the old ones left because of "mold," I had gotten stressed. I needed a bike ride.
So, Tuesday morning, early, really early, in the cold, I went for a ride up the lower part of Mount Lemmon. I had been off the bike for quite a while. I had put on some pounds. The ride was lovely, but painful too. Perfection. I only made it ten miles in before I had to turn around and head back to my householding/worker bee life.
I stopped at Costco to pick up some groceries. They let Executive Members in early on Tuesdays, so I got to shop before the crowds. I parked the truck near the entrance and went in to get the 3 Cs: chicken, cheese, and cashews, the basic food groups.
I made my rounds, loaded the goods, and checked out.
It was then that the hot dogs called, on the way to the exit. After the ride, I was short on protein. I had skipped breakfast and ridden hard for ninety minutes. Hot dogs and a drink were a buck fifty. I wheeled my cart up to a table and ordered a dog.
That extra five minutes may have been just what the car thieves needed to hot wire the truck and get away with my faithful companions -- the Salsa racing bike and the old, beat-up Ford gas-hog, 4x4 Ranger XL.
I passed the receipt check and headed for the place I parked.
No truck, but lots of denial and walking in circles with my box of chicken and cashews and pepper jack cheese.
So, now the bureaucratic process begins. I have to move forward, but can't help to wonder: Was it the hot dog? The need for a ride? Just piss poor luck? The labyrinth of chance, mystery, and consequence of taking one step or the other?