Choose Strong
For Tim.
The May Gray, as the local weatherman called the last three gloomy days, was
finally over and the morning was cool and clear. After spending yesterday
walking around the neighborhood and reading in a Starbucks, Bill hopped on his
trusty ebike and headed south to Sunnyvale.
Traffic was light, the wind was behind his back, and along Central Express he
pedalled at an easy pace. In 15 minutes, he switched at Mary onto Evelyn W and
soon arrived downtown. A few couples lounged around in the sun in Plaza del Sol
opposite to the train station to his left. The sandwich joint which served a
tasty crab triple-decker, 10 years ago, was now Philz Coffee. He quietly glided
by the next two bustling blocks studded with cafes and restaurants and with a
pedestrian zone in between, and turned left at the fourth intersection onto
Aster Ave.
The apartment complex where he lived briefly 15 years ago was still there but
beyond, the neighborhood around the Lawrence CalTrain station was transformed
from industrial junk yards to Toll Brothers low-rises. The Bay Area was still
booming.
As part of the trip, Bill was rooting out a bike route to the martial art gym he
visited last week. The bijou grade crossing under the tracks called for some
maneuvering but the dojo was only one minute away from the north platform of
Lawrence. The one-way trip took in total 35 minutes. Not bad at all. In another
15 minutes, he was packing cherries, soft tofu, and kimchi ingredients into
panier bags in front of the Korean market on El Camino.
The store-minder followed him out. Bill suspected that after years of training at
a police-veteran-run academy, he had acquired a flair attracting certain types.
It was not the 6ft-tall Iranian watchman at the same store last Thanksgiving who
recommended flannel-lined ski pants for winter riding. The dark 30-ish Indian in
livery was about 5'8" and lean with a pauch. The conversation started with a
comment on the bike, like the last time.
"What's with those photoes on the poster board?" It was the first time Bill
noticed at the store entranace.
"Shoplifters."
"Unbelievable!"
"Yes. Their number peaked shortly after the pandemic and has been falling since
I was here" he looked proud as an Indian prince.
"Oh. Good. You did a great job. How much does it pay?" The guy looked like an
immigrant and shouldn't mind being asked, Bill thought. To Bill, except for the
crazy rich ones, every Asian newcomer cared about money and there was nothing
wrong with it.
"Not much. But I have a second job that pays $30 an hour."
"But how much as a security guy? I am looking too, you know?"
"OK. Less than $25." But prince switched the subject: "How did you enjoy your ride?"
"Fantastic. The weather's perfect. It took 35 minutes from Mountain View."
"You rode all the way from Mountain View!?"
"Sure. Pedal assist makes it easy. Plus, these days, every mile costs a dollar,
according to my calculation," Bill entered a preaching mood when it came to
saving money and started to itemize car expenses as prince vehemently nodded
his agreement. It was only after being laid off did Bill notice transportation
costs and counted every mile on his ebike as a dollar saved.
It was a nice chat which Bill couldn't imagine to have with AI and he left with
the knowledge of a security guy's pay and the hope that the Indian would convert
to ebikes.
