The bicycle

         I pedaled ferociously down 9th street, racing to the bus stop.  I stopped at the circle K at the corner of 9th and Van Buren, although I had to go all the way to Jefferson to catch my bus--I needed to get matches, that's why I stopped at circle K.  I needed to light my hot water heater when I got home that night, that’s why I needed matches.  I snatched those matches with a pack of pretzels and some sunflower seeds; I couldn't just get matches...I had to get something, so I got those nice little snacks for work.
         So I got my snacks, and I pedaled on down to Jefferson, and took a seat on the bench and just waited for the damn bus--the same bus where I met that fucking serial killer last week...fuck...well, might as well wait...where's that book?  And I take out my book (The Catcher In The Rye) and start reading away and it's quite the pointless book.  Here's the bus...shit--no, it's the Jefferson line, not the Red Line.  I shake my head no as the bus approaches and the driver gives me a thankful nod, for having let her avoid a stop.  A few more minutes, a few more pages, and here's another bus...the Red Line, alright.  Come on...hurry up already.  Okay, now it's getting close...just gotta put my bike on the rack in front.  And I've gotten off my ass, my book now in my bag, and I'm getting my bike ready to put on the rack.  Damnit!  Fucking rack is full!  Why are there only two fucking slots on these damn buses?  I mean, more than just 2 people, out of say 40 on a bus, ride a fucking bike.  So both slots are full on the bike rack on that damn bus, and the bus driver sees I've got a bike and gives me a sympathetic tilt of the head as he approaches. Oh well...I have to get on that bus, I'll figure something out.  Then the fucking bus just cruises past me...it's like the driver never saw me...but the motherfucker nodded at me and all.  Well he's caught at a light just up a block there.  I pedal like a madman up to the light, so as to catch up with the damn thing.  I catch up with it all right, and I pound my fist against the door.  "Can I get on here?"
         "Hey may-eee-an,” he says in an annoyed tone, “they's oh-ready two bikes on they-ah...they's ah-nutha bus jus’ ten minutes back."  Shit...there's no way around this...the damn bike racks full and that's it.
         "Uuuuhh..."  I contemplate my options.  "I'll just leave it."  I drop my bike to the sidewalk and step closer to the bus.
         "No man!"  The drivers face snarls up in indignation.  "You can't jus’ leave yo bike they-ah.  They's ah-nutha bus jus’ ten minutes back." He's trying to reason with me but I'm already late for work.  I take a glance at the time on my phone and step up on the bus.
         "I don't care man.  I got that bike for free anyway.  Somebody else can have it."
         "No man...you can't just leave a bike they-ah." For a second I thought it was something official...like some law or something, where I couldn't abandon a vehicle on the street or something, and that bus driver is just rubbing his sweaty forehead, confused...bewildered even, and here I am just bewildering him all the more.  I realize that there's no rule against it...that this guy is just trying to talk sense into me, but I don't need any sense talked into me, I've been waiting for somebody to steal this bike for some time...nobody has stolen it, well I guess that it's time to donate the piece of shit.  I step on the bus.
         "Don't worry.  I've got another bike at home, I don't need this one.  Somebody else can have it."
         "Jus ten more minutes man...you show?"
         "Yeah." 
I’m stuffing dollar bills into the fare box when the old bastard starts shaking his head and says to me in a stern voice, "No man...no fare...the box is broken."  Fucking great!  I just paid two dollars for an all day bus pass and now it's no good.  It’s only two dollars, but it’s still a pain in the ass.  So I'm standing there trying to figure out what the hell to do, and the driver pulls off and I lurch backwards against the force of the bus’s motion as the cat sitting in the second seat loudly chuckles to himself and the bus driver pipes up again, in a pleading tone this time.  "Just sit down.  I'll get you a pass.  Jus gimme a minute...okay?"
         "Okay."  I take a seat and the douche-bag with the indiscreet chuckle follows me with his eyes as I do, and he says to me:
         "I've never seen no-one just leave their bike like that."  And he's grinning like an idiot.
         "Yeah, I've been waiting for somebody to steal that bike, just an old junker...girl’s bike, squeaks with every crank of the pedal...just an old junker, no big deal."  What's the big idea?  These damn people are making out like I just burned my fucking house down.  It's a damn shitty old bike...big deal if I left it on the sidewalk for some lucky bum.
         "Ooooh...so that's why you left it...it's a girl's bike... I see."
         "No!  I don't care that it's a girl's bike.  I've been riding the thing for a good four months.  It's just that it's a piece of shit.  It's so slow, it squeaks with every little motion, it's tires are fat and clumsy, it doesn't shift right; it always skips gears, it's no good."  I could give a damn if it was a girl's bike, but I don't.  It just sucks.  I got it for free, so somebody else can have the thing for free.
         So they finally leave me be, although I still get those crazy looks from these cats next to me--you'd think they just saw the funniest thing in their life the way they were smiling like damn fools--and we stop two blocks up from where I got on. 
Now this cat in the very front seat gets up and says to the bus driver as he walking past, "I gotta get my bike of the rack."  Now this is only two blocks up from where I had been--if I had pedaled the other direction when getting on Jefferson, or if that guy had seen what was going on with my bike and gotten off the bus two blocks early, and rode his damn bike the rest of the way, there would have been room for my fucking bike...oh well.  Well...the bus driver didn't see it that way.
         "Hey man!  Didn't you just see what was going on up here with the bikes!"  The bus driver’s losing his composure, yelling at this reclusive kind of guy who's slowly shuffling off the bus, and his voice cracks as he hits a high note with “bikes”.  The cat getting off doesn't even respond, but just gets his bike of the rack, takes a slow look in the bus driver's eyes as he's walking past the door with his bike and the bus driver just yells in his face:  "That's jus’ mean man!  That's jus’ plain mean.  You saw what he did with his bike here.  Man!  That's jus plain mean"
         "Ah, don't worry about it...somebody else'll get a free bike today.  I didn't even like that bike." I try to console the bus driver who looks pretty offended and disgusted.
         "That's jus’ mean man," he explains to me, and continues on his way, shaking his head, and his whole morning's been thrown all out of kilter.  I bet he'll go home and tell his wife all about it...about the crazy kid who just left his bike on the sidewalk and the "jus’ plain mean" old guy who sat by and let it happen.




If you liked this story, check out my other title: "Tijuana Madness"