So anyway, there are these guys. I've seen four of them so far. They ride slowly, front wheel leaning right then left then right then left. Like a twenty three year old, unemployed man goes for a freaking joy ride on his little brother's bike at 11am on a Tuesday. By himself.
The Mom in me wants to march up to him and ask questions. "What are you looking for?" and "Why are you here?" and "Are you LOST?" and "Would you like to meet my very large, territorial, moody dog?" What am I going to do? I could call the police. But what would I say; "Hi. I'm a Mom and I live on the really nice side of the south east side of Cedar Rapids and I have a bad feeling. I wake up at 3am and I can't get back to sleep. I feel nervous. And there are strange men wearing ill-fitting pants riding small bicycles around my neighborhood in 32 degree weather. Could you come over and arrest them, please? What? Oh, OK then. I'll call you after we are robbed and shot. No Problem."
I think the best thing to do would be to start greeting them when I see them. I could look them in the eye, wave, smile just a tiny bit, and look as if I am memorizing their faces. I could take their pictures. I could take notes. Oh. I think I will do all of the above. And then I will post the photos on my blog.
In the not very good movie, "I Think I Love My Wife" the not very talented actor, Chris Rock, has a line where he's waxing poetic about women in the city. I'll paraphrase, "You know why I love the city? Because you can look at the women. In the suburbs, if you look at a soccer mom, she'll put your name on the Internet." So there it is.
I may still wake up at 3am, but at least I'll have something to do while I fidget.
Coming soon: Photos of the Men in ill-fitting Pants on small bicycles.