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Good & Bad Friday

Nice to have a holiday. I have Maundy Thursday and Good Friday off — an advantage of working at a Catholic institution. It has given me the opportunity to reflect on how close to “normal” our lives have become, despite the devastation that surrounds us.

We planned to meet some friends at the recently reopened Finn McCool’s for some drinks, to break my booze-fast and make it a Good Friday indeed.

But as we got ready to ride our bikes over there, we discovered that Xy’s bike was missing.

Stolen, apparently!

Xy was mad as hell, and of course our thoughts harkened back to that guy sniffing around our back yard.

Ah well. Perhaps our homeowner’s policy will cover it. In any event, we made it to Finn McCool’s and I broke my fast with a Guiness, a whiskey and coke, a gin and tonic, a whiskey sour and a tequila sunrise. And, upon our return home, a fine bourbon cut with mineral water.

All very nice, but I’d rather have Xy’s bike back.

Published inBikeDrugzLife with Xy


  1. Tim Tim

    Man that sucks. I hate when things get stolen because it robs us not only of our possessions, but also our feeling of security and well being. It makes us suspicious of strangers and sometimes even neighbors. As such, it’s a crime against not just one person, but the whole community. I hope I don’t sound like I’m getting carried away–it’s happened to me so I can really relate.

    It does sound like you found a tonic to ease your pain, however. Several, in seems!



  2. Yikes! A varied breaking of the fast I see. Still my hat’s off to you for the effort.

    I am particularly sorry to hear about Xy’s bike. My Loyno son came home for the holiday and fetched his. We dug it out of the storage unit, cleaned it up, had it repaired and I put him on the train with it this morning. When I took it into the shop to get fixed, after the fixer looked at me doubtfully, I said, “He’s taking it to college in New Orleans. It’s going to get stolen anyway.” We bought a lock and I hope he’ll use it. Anyway, if you see a slight young man, with curly dark hair riding a butt ugly orange bike down St. Charles, he’s mine. I sent him with a helmet but don’t expect he’ll ever wear it. *sigh*

    Happy Easter.

  3. […] As Tim pointed out when Xy’s bike was stolen back in February, crimes like this “makes us suspicious of strangers and sometimes even neighbors.” I’d like to imagine my bike was snatched by a random wanderer, but that seems unlikely. I hate the fact that I’ll be looking at all my neighbors and wondering, “Did he steal my bike?” […]

  4. […] He did give me the report number, which my insurance adjuster wants. Oddly enough, when Xy filed a claim for her stolen bike, they never asked for a police report. […]

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