Some kids are burdened with the weight of parents' unfulfilled (and perhaps unfulfillable) dreams. You see them on Little League fields, in Pop Warner classes and ballet classes.
A few of those kids may actually want to become ballplayers, dancers or whatever, and will do whatever it takes.
What about this kid?
He starts every morning with a ride. He's retired, and the rides are for his health and fitness.
Back in 1965, however, he pedaled to get around. He was 19 then and looking for a job. So he pedaled 2 1/2 miles (4 kilometers), resume in hand, to someone who might be able to help him.
Now, I should mention that the fact he was doing so in 1965 was significant. For one thing, relatively few Americans rode bicycles if they were old enough to drive. For another, Reginald "Reggie" Brown was applying for a job for which his mother was rejected two decades earlier.
She had done military service during World War II. Still, she didn't get the job in her local post office because it didn't have segregated bathrooms.
Now, as a transgender woman, I know a thing or two about being denied the use of a bathroom--and about not getting a job because of an identity you've always had! I can understand whatever anger, grief or resignation she might have felt. And I imagine that those things were on Reggie's mind when he tried to get a job as a mail carrier.
Governor John McKeithen and his staff were so impressed with young Reggie that they passed on his information, and added their own recommendation. Two months later, he was working as a substitute mail carrier.
As satisfying as the job was, Brown did not see it as an end unto itself. His goal, he said, was public service, and his real passion and dream was to work in law enforcement.
Eventually, he joined the East Baton Rouge Sheriff's Office, where he became the first African American to become a Chief Administrative Assistant and attain the rank of Major. After 25 years in the office, he was elected to the Constable's Office, where he served another 18 years. There, he worked on raising standards for the deputies as he started community programs to do everything from raising public awareness of their rights and responsibilities to helping the needy.
He has written My Bicycle Journey. Proceeds from the sales of that book will go to St. Vincent de Paul charities. He hopes, however, that its message will benefit everyone.
Who wouldn't be inspired by someone who rode his bike into public service, and through history?
A guy has a court hearing. He rides a bike to it.
This could mean he doesn't have a car or can't drive. Or, perhaps, it's the easiest and most convenient way to get there. Another possibility is that he's trying to turn his life around by getting sober and exercising.
That last possibility seems plausible given that one of the charges against him is drug possession.
But he arrives late. All right, maybe he got lost or got a flat along the way. Or there might be some other reason. Perhaps it might have to do with the stolen property he's was charged with receiving.
Turns out, that stolen property included a chainsaw, an iPhone and groceries--in addition to an adult tricycle and two bicycles.
Oh, and those two bikes aren't the only stolen wheels he's had in his possession. When he arrived at the courthouse in Laconia, New Hampshire, police detained upon the request of police in nearby Gilford.
Two nights previous, there'd been a break-in at Piche's Ski & Sport Shop on Gilford Avenue. Guess what was taken during that burglary.
Jeffrey T. Wyatt, a local transient, admitted knowing that the bike he rode to the courthouse--valued at $1800--was stolen. He denied, however, any involvement in the burglary.
In addition to the thefts, receiving stolen property and drug possession, he also has charges of threatening with a deadly weapon, criminal trespass and willful concealment pending against him before he was arrested at the court house--for arriving on a stolen bicycle.
