“Hold on,” he said, stopping the car, “I’ll have to open that door for you.”“Oh. It’s child-locked.” I said, simply, as I stared at the door, hoping it would reveal it’s secrets.“Well, kind of.” He replied , opening the door for me to hop out of. “It’s to keep people in who don’t want to come quietly.”I nodded. It made sense for a police car.
I finally got my bike back today. It has been chained up for two weeks, but since I’m going home I kind of need it. There’s no day like the last day to visit the local police station and see if they have a bike-chain snipper. I wish I could’ve gotten a picture of those babies. They were probably as long as my arm is from the shoulder to the fingers, and the head, the cutting part, was a little bigger than my hand. They were huge, and they cut through the plastic and braided metal of my chain easily enough. At least, it looked easy when the young policeman did it.
My next post will be from home concerning home (hopefully with pictures). I’l leave you with the knowledge that I have started a new sock project: pink and brown jaywalkers.