This morning (after considerable effort), I peeled my eyes open . As my dreams drained back into my spine, the sounds of the Clown House filled my consciousness. My head wasn't on yet, but I knew what was going on; I knew it was quiet.
For the Clown House to be dead silent (except for the sound of dog crashing into stuff) at 10 am is extraordinary.
She was locked in the closet of the C.H. office (my bed room) with me, and she was ready to pee. She looked at me like she was the last puppy in line to pee forever.
I looked behind her and saw my dinner from the night before spread all over tarnation. Yup, that's my stash eaten, too.
I was so tired the night before, I neglected to put all my stuff away. I'm sure, during the few hours before I got up, she had a splendid adventure trashing my messy office.
I dragged my butt downstairs, still admiring the silence of everybody being gone.
We had a long, fun, winter together, now it's light out!
I got a coffee and began scheming on how to make my daily bread quota.
I eventually woke up. That's good, because I was about to meet the Ogre!
I remember walking out of my front door and seeing this big ol' fella whom I had encountered before.
Many moons ago (2y, 5m) a man came to my gate, as they often did, to engage in the business of bike trading.
He was buying bikes to fix up and sell.
I was building bikes for people to go to work and school with, and wasn't really charging much if at all.
He wanted to buy my wife's bike, and I said no.
He got mad and real pushy like, demanded I take $200 for the bike.
I said no.
He told me that “every man has his price” hooey and wondered out loud how good a father and provider to my family I must be. He took the money out of his pocket and fanned his face in the afternoon sun.
Now, I'm trained as a circus worker and i was a carnie at 14. I know how to deal with people and how never to let them get even a little bit “Up” on me. It was an ogre vs. wizard battle of will.
This is my house, so I was a little more protective and guarded than I am on the midway. I thought about what he was doing, and how he must push all kinds of folks around to get his way.
I said one of the coolest things I ever said.
“Mister, I'm sure you make someone very miserable, but you can't make me miserable..good day sir.”
I went inside.
He sat in his truck piled with bikes for about 45 minutes, amazed. Some of my friends went out there to practice stunts, but they ignored him.
And that was that.
Until this morning. There he was, standing on the porch again. The Ogre!
He asked for me.
I pushed my way to the front and engaged him.
He offered many bikes, and asked if I wanted them. I agreed, and Toaster agreed to drive me to 1000th and farasfucway street, SE. I hadn't been in a motor vehicle since the trip to Texas; it was fun.
We got to his place and he was sitting in the driveway peeling aluminum from bike cranks and other flotsom.
He pointed out about 35 bikes, in varying states of disrepair, in his yard. All the bikes had grass growing through them , they all have bleached out plastic and ghostly white aluminum parts, this comes from hot sun and lots of rain.
He was the same pushy guy, but now he was reveled as kindish and not such an ass.
. He'd retired. He told me he isn't bothering with bikes anymore, also he didn't think a hill of beans of the current C.C.C. He said he wanted me to have them because he knew they would go to real poor folks.
Now they are here at the Clown House and people went to them quick.
YAY! those will be back on the road in no time!
Like what we do? Donation bucket!