It was time to pass the mini bike onto a friends toddler but after an extensive search of the garage, the training wheels seems to have not escaped the great chuck out of February 2012.
Mr Woog pointed out that there was a bike shop in our vicinity and that I should take the tiny bike down to them to get a set of new tiny training wheels fitted.
So I found the bike shop and the closest park was up a massive hill. I almost put my back out trying to steer that little fucker down the slippery slope. I entered the bike shop, which was FULLY FANCY and nothing like the adorably named Pushy Galore Bike shop in Umina we visited last week. It had some name like FULLY HARD CORE EXPENSIVE BIKE SHOP FOR ROAD WARRIORS or something like that.
There was a line of CEO suit type customers in there with these shiny, fancy bikes. The staff all looked like Cadel Evans. The bikes for sale cost the same amount as my Mazda. And I felt like a total dick.
"Excuse me," I asked Cadel "Do you sell training wheels?"
Cue laughing in my face. From Cadel and the suits.
So I pushed that mini bike back up the hill as the rain started to fall. I placed it into the back of the Mazda and slammed the door. I was ashamed that I felt so shamed by a group of men that get around wearing pants with built in Tena Pads.
Have you ever felt discriminated against in a retail situation?
