Yesterday I wrote about how a very pleasant calming had come over me, as if my worries had melted away. Today very nearly topped it.
Back in my running days, I frequently found money in the part of the street that cyclists call the door zone. I think what happens is that drivers reach into their pockets for car keys and inadvertently pull money out with the keys. For a starving grad student these bits of serendipity were welcome surprises.
A couple of years ago I found a $20 bill in an ATM. I thought about taking it into the bank but I figured they already had plenty of $20 bills. Over the course of the next several weeks I bought lottery tickets with the money. It was, of course, gone in a short time.
Bike riding does not lend itself to these kinds of lucky finds. Bike riders typically find large objects like screwdrivers, bungee cords, binkeys from children being pushed by jogging moms, and stray pieces of clothing. (I once found a bra on the Mount Vernon Trail. If only it could talk….)
Today, in the middle of the street in front of my house, I found a $20 bill folded neatly in half. Wow! My lucky day. I looked around for someone looking for lost lucre and saw no one. So I put the bill in my handlebar bag and rolled on.
Fifty feet later I found another $20 bill, also folded in half.
You: You must be joking.
Me: I am not
I repeated my look-around and plopped the second bill into my handlebar bag.
Thinking maybe there was a line of $20 bills down the street away from my line of travel, I reversed course and rode back the other way looking for more.
No such luck.
Okay, I thought, time to count my blessings and head off to work. I got about 50 feet from the second $20 bill when I saw a folded piece of paper at the very edge of the street.
It was a $100 bill!
I started looking around to see if I was being filmed.
No one was around; it was just me and the found treasure.
I grew up Catholic. Feelings of guilt began to rise within. Mea culpa. Mea cupla. Mea maxima culpa.
But only for a second.
Mea maxima cnote.
It must be my week.
Last night I made a donation to Sam and Jeff’s charity ride. I chalk up today’s bounty to bike karma.
Maybe if you made a donation, you’d get some bike karma too.
It was hawt (as they say in Beantown) for the ride home. I made it about 9 1/2 miles before the rumbles of thunder turned to rain. Just enough cool rain to take the edge off the heat. When I turned off the trail about 3 miles later the rain stopped.
When I got home, my lawn looked bone dry. Go figure.