“Money is more than money, sometimes it’s memory.”
I’ll never forget the March day in 1973 when the birthday gift from my parents – a new lime-green Schwinn 10-speed with a prism-like banana seat (complete with black double-stripe down the middle) was stolen from outside the Brooklyn neighborhood toy store – Cheap Charlie’s.
I believed I did all the right things to ensure my prized possession was secured tightly to a small tree. It was in my line of sight; no matter where I was, even checking out stacks of Hasbro Colorforms’ boxes at the back of my favorite five and dime, I could glance out the large plate glass windows and observe some part of the bike’s beautiful, clean lines.
Padlock checked twice. Pulled on the lock again, just to be sure I wasn’t fooling myself that the bike was secure.
It wasn’t enough to keep this new birthday…
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