( 2 ) A bike stolen and a bike recovered. So here I am without a bike and I have a paper route . I felt like my job as a paperboy went from easy like selling girl scout cookies to that of a hard laborer working in a salt mine. All I can say is it sucked, coming home from school and wrapping the papers was normal but picking up the satchel and putting it over my head and carrying all my paper and delivering them was hard work as my route extended all the way to Colonia park.So I bit the bullet and did the work. I remember some of the customers would ask why I was walking..I would tell them and sure they felt bad. I had one lady customer that felt really bad and wanted to give me a hug, but then she always wanted to hug me. She was a little too much into liking me I would say. On collection days it seemed like the clothes she wore were extremely revealing and being only 13 I had an idea what she wanted . But in no way was I going inside to get paid. I always asked for the 2.65 for the monthly bill and be on my way. So anyway It must have been two weeks without a bike and on my way home on a Thursday I stopped at the Stop N Go for a bag of chips . I paused for a second and looked at a bike that was near the door. It looked like mine . As I got closer I saw the words Styer written on the frame. I flipped it over and the serial number matched. It was mine but they changed the seat to a 10 speed seat instead of a banana seat and the handle bars were 10 speed handle bars but positioned upside down. I had my hands on it when I heard a voice ....Hey what are you doing? I said this is my bike...No its not its my bike. We wrestled over it and then I just let loose and started swinging. We were evenly matched in size but I got the drop on him. I found myself on top of him just pummeling away. I must have hit him 15 times with my right fist while holding him down with my left.. I dont know who pulled me off of him. But it was over in about 40 seconds. I took my bike home and stared at it. It was ruined. Scratched and altered. It wasnt the same anymore. I felt like the bike was tainted. Something I worked hard for was not the same as before it was stolen. I worked the paper route for about 3 more months and I quit. I sold the bike and that was that. I mad extra cash by mowing lawns. It paid more and I worked less when ever I wanted to. Just another day growing up in Oxnard.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 23:06:32 +0000
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