10 minutes into the Saturday ride at the Plateau I had a funny feeling that I'd neglected to lock the car door. Every 10 minutes from then on I'd think about it. Did I? Did I bring my wallet or leave it on the ping pong table? Should I call home? Nah.
Totally wrecked an otherwise awesome ride.
We (me, M, Pam and Naomi)ran into Walt, King of the Plateau, and I shared my nagging suspicion that I'd done something incredibly stupid. He said not to worry because "those people" don't come out in the cold. Really? Criminals stay inside during nasty weather? OK. Still, I raced back to the car.
Too late.
Door open. Wallet gone. Or did I leave it at home? Pulling into the driveway 25 minutes later, I receive a phone call from Gus who asks if I purchased gas in the past 2 hours. The fraud detectives were on it. Well, now I know where my wallet isn't.
Stolen: Check card, Visa credit card, drivers license and my 2010 racing license. Sonofabitch. I hope whoever stole my stuff is the 3rd victim of a hit and run cyclist.
I was so mad at myself for being such a rube that I went for a hike with the dog and the boy to cheer myself up. I couldn't bear to ride on Sunday. I did manage to watch the Worlds and totally called it: Stybar with the win and Johnson top American. If only that kind of prognostication paid off. Then I could buy a new wallet.
1 comments:
oooooooow. sorry baby. that sucks.
i still love you, and the 72" HD flatscreen you "bought" me.
xo
m
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