Tragic Bike Stories Part I






Coke Addict Monkey Thieves

I had gone to Misahualli, Ecuador with a water engineer to bushwhack through the nearby jungle to find the source of a clean stream of water. Turns out the water wasn’t that clean.

DSCF0700So we spent some time in Misahualli. In the village square squirrel monkeys bounded about on balconies, roofs, and trees with no fear of the cars and people of the town. Every new visitor intrigued them, but the monkeys’ curiosity was not harmless.

cgYou see, the monkeys of Misahualli are heartless criminals. They steal. They’re interested in visitors because they’re scouting an easy mark.

The best thieves work in teams. One is the actual perpetrator and the other keeps watch. DSCF0772Or not…

Occasionally, the partner serves like a magician’s assistant by being a distraction. I was the sad victim of one of these clever plots even after I’d been warned.

“Watch your things closely here,” my friend told me. “They’ll take anything: hats, bags, food, or whatever they can get their hands on.” He seemed disinterested in the farcical performance going on around us, but he added, “And a little warning: if they do take something, you’re better off letting them have it. If you try to take it back from them, all of them will jump on you. Watch your things. They’re thieves. You laugh, but I’m serious. I was throwing a football with my son when a monkey intercepted a pass and scurried up the tree with it.” He laughed as he recalled what happened next. “It pealed open the football like a fruit. It didn’t like what it found inside and tossed it back.”

After a quick snack, I headed alone to the town square. I saw one monkey sprint down the plaza carrying high above his head a small bag of Doritos he had just swiped from the local market. He approached a bench, leaped several feet into the air, reared back and slammed the bag down with a loud pop. The chips spilled out and he and his friends gobbled up the nacho cheese goodness. These corrupted primates don’t subsist on bananas but on chips, candy, and soda.

I had a bottle of Coke and my camera to snap photos of the monkeys. I was tentative at first, keeping a safe distance. Slowly I moved across the plaza until a little devil raced by my feet and under a nearby bench. I took a video as it moved a rock from the ground to the bench.

What the hell is he doing? I thought. He was putting on a show for my benefit. Suddenly, his partner sprinted behind me and attempted to snatch my Coke out of my other hand. The bottle fell between me and the monkey. We stared each other down. I knew I could take the little critter, maybe scare him away, but I remembered what my friend had said. I didn’t want to end up under a heap of monkeys, scratching and clawing at me. Finally, it snatched the Coke and ran off. Then the fight ensued.

They understood the concept of a twist off, but couldn’t quite get it. Finally, they found a local sitting in the park. The monkey ran up to the guy, jumped on the bench next to him and placed the Coke between him and the man. The man looked at the monkey and shook his head like a parent disappointed in the antics of a child. Nevertheless, the man opened the Coke and gave it back.

coke addict monkey

The Time I Met Kurt Vonnegut









I Am Fated to Meet Her One Day

I am fated to meet her one day
and as she awaits me,
weaving her stories as great authors do
and preserving evidence of her existence
on the flax paper of a burgeoning scrapbook,
I do my best to avoid her as I craft my own story
that at the moment seems to be going nowhere.

Nothing I invent rivals the vast arcs and clever ironies
the sadness and humor
the suspense and tranquility of her epic creation.
She is omnipresent
through my mundane tasks and mindless activities
through my successes and failures, which seem minuscule in the grand scheme.
What stories could this character inspire?
I never evade her pursuit because she is one step ahead,
always knowing where I’m going.

I am fated to meet her one day
whether I greet her at the front door
or let her sneak in through a pried window.
Fate will find her way in
and we’ll sit together
reminiscing on our story replete with pivotal moments and plot twists I’d missed,
all the clues neatly placed as in a perfectly unfolding novel that I didn’t quite get
until the very end.

Dreaming at Exactly 3 a.m.











Five Amazing Stories of Monte Carlo


Sleep makes no promises

it is the riskiest moment of a day

a journey through an unknown passage

to an uncertain world

but certainly a fast-forward toward death

Sleep is the mercurial half-brother of consciousness

a blessing

a curse

elusive for those who crave a release from today

or avoided because it pulls closer the dread of tomorrow

Sleep is messy with savage dreams

that tease with hope

or terrorize with threat

Sleep has no language

It knows no peace

It is exhausting

It takes no rest

The Noble Lord’s System

It’s one thing to ascribe great gambling wins to incredible streaks of luck, but I find stories that attribute gambling success to divine intervention particularly intriguing. If gambling is a sin, would God reward a person who commits this sin? The next Monte Carlo story is one that I’ve encountered in multiple sources even thought it’s the hardest one to believe.

A noble lord was having a bad week at the tables and took a break from the casino. He stopped in the church but stayed only through the last verse of the hymn preceding the sermon.

Monaco et Monte-Carlo - Monte-Carlo vers la mer - RJD10334.jpgHe slipped out and took a stroll toward the casino, the music and words of the tune still in his head. Simply wanting to watch the action, he had no intention of gambling once he entered the game rooms.

From the table to his left, he heard the croupier call out, “Thirty-two!” He suddenly remembered that thirty-two was the number of the last hymn he’d heard in church. From the table to his right, the croupier announced “thirty-two” as the winner. He knew he had something here so he approached the table ahead of him and put all the money he had on him on thirty-two. Of course, he won. He moved from table to table playing the same number until he’d won £500.

RouletteHe told friends of his story and the story quickly spread around Monte Carlo. The next Sunday the church was packed. The offertory was as large as the church had ever seen as the parishioners contributed a little extra for good luck. Just before the last hymn was announced, there was a hush in the church as everyone bristled with excitement. As soon as the hymn number was announced, there was a mass exodus to the door. Everyone hurried to the casino.

Casino InteriorBy several accounts, many were successful playing the hymn number at the roulette tables.

The non-gambling members of the congregation were shocked by this behavior. The church quickly made it a rule that no hymns under 37 would ever be sung again.

What I love most about the story is its inclusion in a short book of gambling systems published in 1902.

Systems of PlayThere’s no attempt to discredit the story, and in all seriousness, the author offers the following conclusion:

“The moral of this, when you have discovered a really good system, keep it to yourself.”

Back to Five Amazing Stories of Monte Carlo