My profession at the time carried the prestigious title of “courtesy clerk” (AKA a “bagger,” though not the type often found on busy street corners.) The prestigious job also brought the lovely reality of a minimum-wage paycheck. Thus, my decision regarding personal transportation was determined. I wandered towards “a bike shop that sold recycled parts for cheap” with the intention of upgrading my bicycle.

Upon that first entry into “Recycled” I was greeted by bins of used bike parts. Those bins, coupled with the helpful direction of the shop staff, transformed  me from the kid without the car into the kid WITH the coolest bike in school (all black, except for a decal that had been creatively transformed from “Cannondale” into a very prideful, “Can o ale.”)