"'Cause after all, he's just a man."

(Cross-posted at Cycling in Wichita)

Setting: The front entrance, dimly lit (for it is just past sunrise this Wednesday morning), of your correspondent's apartment. His faithful Fuji Crosstown 3.0 sits quietly by the door.

The door opens, and in walks your correspondent, laden with groceries.

ME (cheerily, but somewhat guiltily): Oh--hi there!

CROSSTOWN:

ME (still cheerily): I'll be right back! [leaves, closing the door]

All is quiet for a few minutes. Then the door opens again, revealing your correspondent with yet more groceries. He sets them on the kitchen counter and turns to address his bike.

ME: Please, please don't look at me that way!

CROSSTOWN:

ME: I know how this looks--I do. But I had to use the car this morning!

CROSSTOWN:

ME: I had to! I mean, I got all this stuff--and I bought frozen stuff, and butter, and milk and orange juice!

CROSSTOWN:

ME: And you--you don't have panniers yet.

CROSSTOWN:

ME: Yeah, yeah, I know--"Whose fault is that?"

CROSSTOWN:

ME: You know, I hate it when you don't talk.

CROSSTOWN:

ME (bargaining): Look--I'll make it up to you! We'll ride to the bike store--just you and me--and buy you a cute little tire-pump! Would you like that?

CROSSTOWN:

ME: Air--a bicycle's botox!

CROSSTOWN:

ME (sensing the mood is softening): And then next payday, we'll get you--we'll get us--a nice set of panniers! No more of this sneaking out on you. What do you say??

CROSSTOWN:

ME (walking over and stroking CROSSTOWN's frame): Well--that's as good as a yes, I'd say.

CURTAIN