So I stood there with a bike and watched the Walmart parade go by. This is a blogger paradise. I had several people compliment me on my very cool bike. I had several people who seemed to think I was begging for money. This was a very interesting sociological experience. Exactly how can you tell the difference between a homeless person with her belongings in her backpack and someone who is a World Famous Blogger, Corporate Controller Obese Supportive Sister type person? It was confusing to people. So here is a clue: Some people ride bikes for fun and exercise not because they have to. Some people ride bikes because they are supporting their epileptic sisters. Anyhow... eventually Monica came out. She had bought a basket, water bottle holder and Ching Ching bell for her bike. She got me one too! So I went back into Walmart to find they had fixed the bike. So off we go.... only to discover that something else is wrong. My bike is just not right. Either it is not put together right or.......I am too heavy for it. I stand there weighing my options (HA-- get it?) (big fat woman is weighing her options?" and decide to take it back- which is so much fun. I go up to the Customer Service person and whisper "I am killing this bike. I need a bike built for hippopotamuses" I figure my best option is to go home do some research by googling "BIKES THAT ARE GOOD FOR REALLY BIG FAT WOMEN".
It is now sunset. About 7:00pm. We realize that there is no one we can think of who has a vehicle big enough to take the bike and us as well as loves us enough to come rescue us and my kids are not home to come pick us up and so we start the trek home: Monica riding her bike and me walking. It is weird how driving to Walmart seems to be a pretty short trip but walking to Walmart is like 100 miles in the arrid desert heat AND 5 feet of snow uphill the whole way with the wind blowing 150 mph. Brutal. And everyone stares at you. Since our mom taught us to share we trade riding the bike and walking. When I am walking I am having fun pretending to be a Zombie (that is right-- I am obessed with reading Zombie Apocalypse novels) except when someone can see me not because I would be embarrassed but because I don't want to appear to be imitating a person who is handicapped. Not that handicapped individuals appear to be Zombies or vice versa, but that the physical movements are similar until you see the dead eyes. Pretending to be a Zombie is really fun. Try it. I digress. My sister, on the other hand, leaves her helmet on when she is walking also giving the impression that her epilepsy has progressed to the point that she is in eminent danger of causing brain damage to herself at any time.
The sun is setting as we drag ourselves into the house.
So right now we are Half a set of biker chicks.
Stay tuned for upcoming developments.