Once upon a time, I worked for an exclusive, understated consulting firm that hosted an annual holiday party for the staff and a select few friends. One year, Mr. Unfolded decided to enliven this exclusive, understated event by bringing Don King. (Mr. U. negotiates boxing contracts.)
Don* was accompanied by Isadore, his longtime valet and bodyguard. The room was warm, so I offered to take Isadore’s bulky jacket. He smiled. “No thanks, ma’am, I’d best keep it on.” Riiiiight.
I thought of Isadore recently. Shortly after picking up Monty, I stopped at Bicycle Habitat to buy a lock. (Hal Ruzal, the shop’s co-founder, likes to poke fun at cyclists’ lame bike-locking practices.) The nice salesguy looked puzzled. “But…you have a Brompton. Why would you need a lock??” He humored me, selecting several locks and demonstrating how each was at best a minor hindrance to a dedicated thief. He asked if I had ever been refused entry to an establishment while toting a folded B. When I said no, he advised me to take Monty everywhere. “And if anyone gives you an argument, go elsewhere.”
So I’m going to be like Isadore. When I’m packin’ Monty, nothing and no one is coming between us. No lock required.
*Don was the hit of the party, to the surprise of all but Mr. Unfolded.
Of course, a lock may discourage a rookie or two, as would attaching your helmet to the folded rear wheel and frame, motion detector or a low-tech motion detector such as a cowbell.
All true, Saul. (Although, a cowbell on Monty’s elegant frame? As if.) But I’m going with Occam: simplest is simply to keep my boy near me.
Watch for the razor!
Cutting wit, Saul. Much appreciated!
Good morning Isadore
Back atcha, Doc!
That’s all folks….
Oh, you’re good.
Not really, even in my somewhat disabled state. Keep the rubber side down.
That’s oracular, Saul. Tires? Razor?
High praise. I would like to thank everyone who made this possible. Keep the shiny is up…words to live by.
Ah, got it. Good advice!
It ain’t easy, but what is, to rehone the rapier wit and charm resulting from mild fog and confusion of mild concussion and fatigue, or TIREdness, of trauma and healing. Hey, some people do crossword puzzles; others make puzzles out words.
And some of us do both! (I like Richard Maltby’s cryptics in Harper’s.)
Rehone the dulled wit and charm, that is.
You two are hilarious! So much wit — we country bumpkins just can’t cut it. (So to speak . . .)
Haha! You can parry with the best of ’em, Brommie.
Funny how? You mean I amuse you?
Just, you know, how you tell a story…