Found in Street
Some cyclists find tools along the road. Others, dead armadillos. Me? Cash perhaps? A ticket to Hawaii or the Cayman Islands maybe? Nope. Just a badge. The glitter of gold in the sunlight caught my eye. I picked it up and stuffed it in my seat bag, hoping no one observed me absconding with this treasure. And I was thinking, "Wait, a Secret Agent badge? How does that work? It's not very 'Secret' if you show a badge, is it? Perhaps you can't actually show it to anyone, just knowing that you have it in your wallet is enough." Then I got home and cleaned it up, and discovered that it is Special, not Secret. At least I found something special. Better than a dead armadillo, anyway. Tomorrow's post will be about art I rode to see at a fire station. I had my badge ready in case they asked what I was doing hanging around. "It's OK, I'm a secret agent, here to photograph art for my bicycle blog." "Hey wait a minute, that says 'Special', you're no secret agent!" But nothing like that happened. I think they were having Sunday brunch inside the station. It smelled like bacon and pancakes. Really, really good bacon and pancakes, with lots of hot strong coffee and fresh-squeezed juice. I'm thinking they eat pretty great Sunday Brunch in the fire house. I almost banged on the door and yelled "search warrant!". Almost. Get up. Go ride.