Fast forward to yesterday, 6:00pm. Caroline and I on our way to the mall to scout out modest dresses for 8th grade graduation for my niece Deven. (good luck).
Caroline: "Mom, that bike looks a lot like my bike!"
Details become a little blurry here. I pulled over towards the sidewalk, and sure enough, some teenage vato loco was riding my seven-year old's turquoise bike with pink decals. He looked like a idiot. Wouldn't you steal a boy's bike if you were a teenage boy? This chap has the common sense of a speed bump.
Me: "Get off my daughter's bike."
Nothin. I repeated the request in a more commanding "I'm-a-mother-of-four-I-just-did-a-triathlon-don't-mess-around-with-me, Beto!" tone. So he looks me in the eye, and takes off on the bike the other way, down a sidewalk.
Did he really think that my 2005 Ford Expedition couldn't jump that ridiculous curb and apprehend him through the greenbelt? Was it wrong of me to have chased him down with my car until he looked back in abject fear, saw me barrelling towards him in a very large SUV, freaked out, ditched the bike, and started running?
I know I snapped. Anybody know a good therapist who specializes in "post-traumatic stress disorder/general bad judgement"? I'm so tired of being victimized, that this poor acne-ridden nitwit with multiple ear piercings got the brunt of my psychosis. What would I have done had I actually caught him? Lecture him? Hug him and forgive him? Citizens arrest? Dunno.
Caroline: (a little freaked out) "Mom, I've never seen you go crazy like that before."
She was OK after some rootbeer floats at home.
Good news: I got my daughter's bike back. Caroline loves that bike. Plus it wasn't cheap.
More good news: The cops did NOT cite me for driving like a maniac through the grassy greenbelt, rather they smiled and said: "Ma'am, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do".
Bad news: He got away.