At university, I had a bicycle which I bought from a very Sanford and Son-eque store in Tampa. The place was a cornucopia of crap… junk tumbling out of a strange smelling horn of plenty. After much deliberation, I bought a vintage Ross Europa for 10(ten) American dollars.
This bike was terrible. It had one gear, coaster brakes, and was from an era where the only thing you needed a bike for was getting your baguettes home before they were cold. Back then, there were no “mountain bikes”, people didn’t need “gears”, you could only hope to get from point A to point B without falling over. The Ross Europa could do this admirably. The bicycle weighted about 50(fifty) pounds and was like an antique tank. If I ran into a curb, I could chip the curb and go over it. There was no stopping this thing once you got if moving. If you could get it moving. In the flat terrain of Tampa this was about all you needed in a bike.
It would have been fun to ride through grass or on a path, but I chose the economic and safe route. Also, being mindful of the rampant bicycle thievery, I bought a Kryptonite lock for my bicycle. I’m no dummy and I know that bicycles disappear near University campuses faster than free donuts. The guaranteed, industrial strength, super-lock cost about 30(thirty) American dollars.
One day, I went into a store and left my bicycle outside. I thought I had locked it. For some reason I left had put the lock on the bike and walked away from it without removing the keys. When I returned, my bicycle was still there, but my lock and key were missing.
What is the moral of this story? Does it make sense in Arabic?
Ready?
You know your bicycle is a piece of crap when someone steals your lock and leaves your bike.