A Worker Rewards Hard Work--With A Bicycle

Perhaps you frequent a store or cafe and see the same person behind the counter every time.  Maybe you've progressed beyond exchanging pleasantries and have come to know something about that person who makes your coffee or sells you a newspaper or stamps.  

Yes, such things happen here in New York.  But I'm sure they happen even more frequently in some smaller towns.  

While it's nice to get to know that person who makes your sandwich, doing so can also be a little sad:  That person might be doing it because of some unfortunate circumstance.  And getting to that counter every day could be a job in itself.

Such was the case of Johnny Phillips.  Every day, he walked two hours to the Circle K market in Springfield, Illinois, where he worked a ten-hour shift.  Then he walked two hours to go home.

Jim Copeland learned of his story because he stops at that Circle K store every night, on his way to work.  He knew that Phillips "had to walk through a bad neighborhood" and figured that "if he did all that, he was really dedicated."  So, Copeland thought, "maybe I could help him."

On his way to work, an idea popped into Copeland's head:  "What if I could find a decent bike at a decent price?" So he went--where else?--to Craigslist, where he found a suitable machine. He took it to a "bike nut" friend, who oiled the chain and adjusted the brakes.

On Monday, Copeland brought the bike to the store's parking lot, told Phillips to close his eyes and handed him his new mode of transportation.  One can only imagine the emotions Phillips must have felt, some of which showed on his face.

For his part, Copeland drives a truck for a postal service contractor, so I suspect he knows a thing or two about work and dedication!

A Very Expensive Rest Stop

How much home can you buy for $2 million?

You might wonder why I'm raising such a question here. It's not that I'm getting rich from writing this blog:  In fact, I haven't made a cent from it.  Then again, I've never made any attempt to monetize this site.  

The question entered my mind because of something I saw during my ride yesterday.

In some parts of this nation, two million dollars can buy you a veritable palace, or at least a mansion.  I have to admit, of the ones I saw in this article, I am partial to the ones in Poulsbo, Washington and Block Island, Rhode Island.  Perhaps those high wispy clouds tinged by the sunset make the one in Washington State seem even more beautiful than it is.  And I just might like the one in Rhode Island because I'm generally partial to New England.

So...what does $2 million get you in New York?

Yes, a toilet. 

This public restroom facility (I think that's the official name for structures like it.) is in Gravesend Park, Brooklyn.  While growing up, I spent a fair amount of time in that park, wedged between the 18th Avenue shopping area and a Department of Sanitation garage.

Can't beat the location, right?  Maybe that's why it cost $5000 per square foot:  more than it would take to buy the most expensive apartment in Trump Tower!

And, no, there are no gold-plated fixtures or marble ceilings.  It's just a basic public restroom with steel stalls and fixtures.  At least it was clean, which is all I ask when I stop to take care of my needs during a ride.

In case you were wondering:  It took seven and a half years to complete.  I bet it didn't take nearly as long to build this:

or the train line that ascends from, or descends to, the tunnel to the left of the photo. And I'll bet it will all last longer!

The World Won't End--Yet. I Just Hope This Journey Doesn't.

The tides rolled in, higher and higher on the rocks--closer and closer to me and Arielle, who took me to Point Lookout on one of the loveliest afternoons we've had this year.  

She was up for it, wind and all.  We rode into the wind all the way out, literally.  It blew from just the right spot on the compass--somewhere between East-Southeast, South-Southeast and East-East South, I think.  Whatever it was, it blew us all the way back to my place.

While she was soaking up the sun and wind--and I was getting burned by them, in spite of my third application of sunscreen to my arms, face and the back of my neck--I paid a visit to another old friend:

The Point Lookout Orca is a myth  of my own creation.  Which is to say, of course, that it's a rumor that, to my knowledge, has gone no further than this blog.  I had to assure him, Arielle and myself that whatever the tide was bringing in was no more dangerous--at least, not yet--than anything that might result when two thin-skinned, impulsive guys lead their countries.  One of them has a Twitter account.  The other has, according to scientists, an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM).

I fully expect the guy with the Twitter account to use it to exclaim that he has a bigger, stronger missile.  But, because he needs the support of religious conservatives to undo everything Obama did, he can't let his warhead show.  At least, not too much.

That was not a dirty joke.  At least, I hope it isn't.  If it is, then I've just dirty-bombed.

Anyway, it might seem frivolous to some that I am off riding my bike when we might be in the most serious situation this country has seen since the Cuban Missile Crisis.  But,really, what else is there to do--besides peace, whether it's in one's own life or with others.  And, yes, I've been doing as much of the latter as I can.  The rides I take alone, like this one, enable me to do so as much as the rides I do with others--and the marches and everything else in which I participate.