Tuesday, September 12, 2006
There Is No Justice, Or Is There
It was an action packed morning. It was finally my day in court for my four tickets from trying to outrun the threewheeler cop. I was guilty as freaking sin on all four counts, and my entire legal strategy was hoping the guy didn't show up.
I'm a legal fucking genious. The guy who whipped across four lanes of traffic in a 600 pound car is no longer with the NYPD. Me and four other people previously snagged by this guy were all let go. It took all of 15 minutes.
I biked off to work, feeling untouchable. Ten minutes later, my steering was all messed up and I had to take the subway. Somewhere between Rector Street and Canal, my bike frame finally gave up the ghost and snapped right where I had bent it two and a half years ago. What had started off saving me $160 ended up costing me god knows how much. The Pista will be sorely missed.
What will not be missed is Laura and my first car. We ditched The Bloob with a guy from Long Island for $1 after the alternator blew. It was a pity to see it go, but the car won't cost us any more money. It was a lot of money down the tubes at a crappy time. If I lived in a different part of the country, I'd scratch off the vin numbers and push it off a cliff.