Today I decided to take my bike to a memorial service (aka funeral) for a man named Frank Dyck. I didn’t actually ride all the way to the church; I took my bike on public transit so that I could ride home afterward. I thought it was a good plan, but it may have been the worst decision I’ve made in a long time… (foreshadowing)
The memorial service was really powerful. I never really knew the man, but I wish I did. The church was packed and people told all kinds of amazing stories about him. Afterward there were refreshments downstairs so I stayed for a while to visit and then helped clean up.
Then when I was ready to leave I put the key in my bike lock, but it got stuck. I couldn’t pull it out, but tried twisting it around a bit. Eventually I felt it become loose - a little too loose. I had broken the key with part of it stuck in the lock. I did my best to refrain from blurting out obsenities at the church. After realizing there was nothing I could do, I asked around for help. Someone handed me a hacksaw to try cutting through the lock and I was skeptical. Sure enough, the saw couldn’t even scratch the metal lock. Oh, I forgot to mention that this was a Kryptonite U-shaped solid steal lock. It was basically indestructible. I asked around for more help. Peter Unger, our resident handyman, took me to the tools room and grabbed a hammer. He banged my bike lock to death, but it didn’t even leave a dent. Again, I asked around for more help. Another kind man, John Kroeker, volunteered to grab his grinder from home. That thing cut through the lock like butter. Victory!!
But this was just the beginning of my bike adventure…
I started riding and it was a pretty far distance, but I was making good time. I eventually came to the part where I needed to get onto the highway. I was nervous, but confident that I would be okay. However, I had to cross over two lanes to get to the shoulder. So I had to wait quite a while for a break in traffic. I made it across alright; I conquered the obstacle and was feeling good. I rode through the tunnel and approached the Second Narrows Bridge (aka Iron Workers Memorial Bridge). To my dismay, the shoulder of the highway slowly diminished to the point that there was no shoulder at all. I was stuck in the middle of the highway (on the far side of the left lane of North facing traffic). Cars, trucks, and even Hummers sped past me just inches away. People honked their horns and yelled out the window. I felt pretty stupid and was actually scared for my life. There seemed to be an endless flow of traffic. I started praying that God will get me out of there alive. I decided that I could probably cross the highway faster on foot than on the bike because it is easier to start running from a complete stop than it is to start biking from a complete stop. Suddenly I saw the tiniest break in traffic, so I held my breath, picked up my bike, and ran like the wind! I threw my bike over the barrier and hopped over. I practically kissed the ground with relief.
Now safe on the fenced-in sidewalk, I biked across the bridge. I made it to the North Shore (my homeland) and I was feeling great… for a few minutes.
Out of nowhere I heared a pop and a hiss and an evil snake. “Are you serious!” I yelled out loud. My back tire blew out. Now with my head down and spirits defeated, I started walking to the nearest bus stop, hoping that the next bus could carry bikes on the front. But before I arrived at the bus stop, I saw something off in the distance. It was like an Oasis in the treacherous desert - Cove Bike Shop. A bike shop just a block away from where my tire blew out. This must have been a miracle. There was a shimmering halo around the building and angels flying around playing trumpets. A single beam of light broke through the clouds to illuminate the shop. I walked inside and the worker said that they were just about to close but he saw me coming and thought I could use some help. They fixed my tired for $10, which I thought was reasonable.
From there I biked home safely and lived happily ever after. THE END.
