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Thursday, February 22
by Laurel
If I were to think of the typical person who owns a typical bicycle, and think of the typical number of exciting incidents that happen between this typical person and his typical bicycle, I don't think I'd come up with a number larger than two. I am stating this to illustrate that I differ from the norm of the typical person and his typical bicycle, as if I were to take my number of exciting incidents that happen between my bicycle and me and divide it by two (remember, that's the typical number of exciting incidents that happen between this typical person and his typical bicycle), I am pretty certain I'd produce a quotient larger than one. Or, in other words, my bicycle and I are an exciting duo. However, I'm not sure we're exciting for good reasons. Ahem.
My bicycle adventures began when I went to a summer research program two summers ago and I needed a bicycle to get around. My first exciting incident, about two weeks into the program, was the thievery of my bicycle. So I'm sure you're now wondering, "But Laurel, didn't you just say that your ratio was greater than one?! I thought I could believe in your mathematical mad skills! If your bike was stolen so early, how can you have more exciting incidents with your bicycle?" Do not fear, my dear readers, as by the end of the summer I bought myself a new bicycle with the lemonade stand money I'd amassed over the past 18 summers of my life. So I'd ride my bicycle to school my senior year of high school, and I remember once arriving two hours late because my beautiful, flowy skirt became entangled in the gears only five minutes into my ride, forcing me to kindly rip out my skirt from the gears, creating an unplanned "distressed" look. One morning near the beginning of winter, I came to school needing "a band-aid or two" because of my wipe-out a block from the school involving me, my bicycle, and a soccer goal sadly placed on the sidewalk. And this year, I'm sad to say... I think this series of incidents will only repeat itself. "You don't say, Laurel!" you exhort. "Why is this so?" you inquire. Aptly, I respond, "Reader, my dear bicycle has been stolen again!" The story goes that I locked up my bicycle inside, in the lounge on my floor, and then one Saturday evening between the hours of 4 and 8pm my bicycle vanished. So I think it's safe to say that following this second thievery, I will buy a new bike, destroy a piece of clothing with the bicycle, and also again completely wipe-out.
But wait... this evening something happened that radically changed the course of my bicycle adventures. "You don't say, Laurel!" you exhort once again. "But I really do say! Just listen! At the end... there will be snacks!" I tell you, as you seem quite impatient.
So this evening fellow floor residents whose names will remain undisclosed confess that they were apparently "bored" this past Saturday evening and so decided to place my bicycle in a safer place than the lounge... the janitorial closet. Amazing! So my bike isn't actually stolen! Perhaps this is an omen of good fortune and prosperity in my relationship with my bike. Maybe, just maybe, we'll be together forever.
The end.
P.S. Disclaimer: According to a recent survey in which all those surveyed actually told the truth, the average number of exciting incidents that occur with the typical Macalester student and his or her typical bicycle is 3. This differs from the national average of approximately 2.
P.P.S. I have some snacks (also known as cookies) in the fridge. You should stop by and congratulate yourself with a cookie for coming this far to the end of the entry.
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