Quality of Life

A friend of mine, triple G, wrote a blog today about the quality of life.

Let me give you an example.

Today, after a ride to the grocery store to itemize all the substance purchased on a regular basis, then recording them in an excel spreadsheet sorted by name then price and compared against last year, then a trip to VCU art store for a can of rubber cement, then wandering around Lowes for a couple of hours picking up orchid food and nails and writing prices on boards, and doors, and sinks stands and the eternal ride home in the sunshine, stopping every couple of blocks to rest.

After a brief hour rest and rehydrate with water, the hunger king kicks in. Pasta covered in cheese and tomato sauce, no meat. But I'm not a delivery service after getting the wrong pizza order and a soggy veggie burger. If you want it you have to ride there.

So off to the Crazy Greek. This is a regular establishment with consistent food, good prices, and most important friendly polite service. It's a quality restaurant.

So the bikes are locked to the sign pole outside, as we always do, and selected a both between senior couples. Ice tea and bread started giving the body renewed energy. The main course arrived and we started to regroup our spirits.

I noticed the couple behind us leave. The man got up and walked toward the counter to pay for the meal. Then the woman slowly stood up and with a Styrofoam box walked away. I remember they did not say anything while we were sited there. I just thought it was sad.

We continued with our lunch scarfing down our fries, onions, tomatoes, and brief conversation of how the Lowes items could be delivered when it happened......

"Are there any bikers in here?"

The elderly man who was sitting next to us was walking up to our booth. The word "bikers" took me aside, due to the meaning of what "bikers" really are.

As I wiped the dripping dressing from my onion, pork and tomato Slovakia meal, I turn to hear....

"Your bikes fell on my car and scratched it. Why did you put your bikes there? They should have been strapped up. They fell and scratched my car...."

"Our bikes are strapped up"

"They were not strapped up and fell on my car"

"Then they weren't our bikes"

"Were they on the pole outside?"

"Yes"

"Those bikes fell on my car and scratched it. You can come out and see."

I decided this conversation wasn't going anywhere so I got up and followed the little man outside. I passed the restaurant manager who looked like he had already heard enough about this.

Once outside, I see my wife's bike laying on the parking lot and my bike, which is next to the car standing upright. I go over to her bike and pick it up only to hear...

"Why would you put your bikes there?" the elderly woman said. She was visibly disturbed.

The man stood on the passenger side of the car, then climbed inside as his wife went on a rampage.

I held both bikes as she walked up to the driver's side door.

" I bet it scratched the car. Look there. It did. Oh." she said as she rub a faint line next to the side mirror. (I wondered how a bike that was laying on the ground toward the back door could scratch the front hood?)

"Why did you put your bikes there?" she kept shouting. "You just don't care, that's why!" she exclaimed as she climbed into the drivers seat.

I stood silently staring in wonderment and quietly said, "Sorry." but I'm not sure I meant it.

The small mobile machine puttered off with grunts and groans coming from the bitter couple.

I would have offered something except she had said, "I move the bikes, then they fell and scratched the car."

NOTE: We attend this restaurant at least once a week, and always lock up to the sign, and in over 25 years have never had any incident as we had today.

With that being said, and after this weird week, I returned to the restaurant. The manager was standing sheepishly in the back. I comforted my wife of little damage done and only a bitter older sad couple.

As we continued to finish the meal, the elderly man was observed at the counter talking to the restaurant manager again.

Pause. This had gone beyond what was just a simple mishap. This was getting on my nerves. I was visibility shaken as I picked up a fork. What was this guy doing? I thought I had been so reserved, but I did not accommodate the couple. Was he waiting around for the police? Was he going to trash our bikes.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think of what I would do if this couple continued with this accident. I didn't want to go to that place where I looked for his car to key it. I didn't want to think what I might do next.

So the bill is paid and we walk outside to the sunshine. The bikes stand untouched. Packing up and unlocking, I looked for the couple. I didn't want the "bad side" to come out, but I knew it was there.

I was glad peddling home I did not go farther. I felt sadness for the elderly couple who would talk of the long hair guy who wrecked their car over and over again.

And I wondered about the "QUALITY" of life.