The Biker Chicks are a Careful Flock.

We always ride together—this morning it was Laurie B, Silvia, and moi. I always check my

These glasses got me to say, "to heck with the contacts"

These glasses got me to say, “to heck with the contacts”

tires, always wear a helmet. Okay, sometimes I forget the sunscreen, but I carry my phone. Wear a mirror on my shatterproof sunglasses. And my good glasses are safely in my jersey pocket.

In an emergency I need to be able to read phone.

Early this morning we did a nice loop along the ocean, up around the golf course in Palos Verdes, and then back. About 16 miles.

At the end I patted my pockets for my glasses.

Nuthin’.

My heart went into my cleats. The glasses are—were?— brand new, the lenses less than a week old, the frames are Prada, a big splurge last year after I had a crisis of confidence over my previous frames. I tried dozens of pairs before choosing them.

My biking routine is so firm I knew the glasses weren’t in a purse or on a nightstand. They must’ve fallen out of my back pocket while I was riding. Dejected, I got into the car to retrace the route, looking for the black canvas case.

Hard not to be annoyed at myself. I must not’ve poked it all the way down in the pocket. I like the frames better than any since my very first glasses over ten years ago. As I drove along sweeping the shoulder with my eyes, I called Wendy at Manhattan Beach Vision to see if I can still get the same frames.

“Really? You lost them!?! Did you have your name in the case?”

You know the answer to that one.

“Why don’t you wait a couple of days and then we can order you a new pair.”

Part of me wanted to order them right away, to be done with embarrassment, the recriminations, but of course she was right. Is that?—I stared intently at a little black scuff mark on the speed bump in the Redondo parking structure—sigh, no it is not..

Drove the whole route slowly, it took longer with the car than the bike. I was home maybe ten minutes when the phone rang.

“Someone found them!” Wendy exclaimed. “You had the cleaning cloth in the case with my phone number on it. I never answer the phone but I did this time.”

I was so excited it was hard to hear the rest. A girl was running, actually saw them fall out of my pocket. Yelled to me but I didn’t hear. Her mother helped look through the case, found the number.

Amazing how an experience like this can suddenly change your view of the world. It just shifts everything. If I were the lottery ticket type, I’d be there today. But instead I’ll just have to smile all day. Bought the girl some flowers on the way to pick up the glasses. Name of the florist is appropriately:

Oops-a-Daisy.

Glasses case now has my name and phone number.

About Karen Ray

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