On Friday I tried to trace the serial number (J56986 though the second symbol only looks like the bottom of a 5 or a reverse “c”) of my bike but I don’t think it’s possible to figure out the brand from the serial number. The “J” might indicate the month that the bike was made and the 69 might be stating the year, but I don’t know for sure. That serial number might exist for several bikes made by different companies. I’ve mentioned before that there is a sticker from a place called the Cycle Shack on Cumberland Street in Thunder Bay. I know that the Cycle Shack no longer exists and it’s fairly safe to assume that it existed before the internet because any store like that would have some sort of web track from having been mentioned by someone online. My writers open stage, The Orgasmic Alphabet Orgy, for instance, ended in 2000 but there are still references to it online.
Something
I only recently noticed on the sticker is that The Cycle Shack was a division
of the March of Dimes. That would mean that The Cycle Shack was a non-profit,
for charity bike shop, which would mean that my bike was probably already
second hand when it was sold there. I wondered if the March of Dimes would have
records of the bikes that they sold at that store, so I sent them an email to
ask. It’s a long shot but they’ll probably get back to me next week with some
kind of answer, which will probably be that they have no idea.
I
took a bike ride in the afternoon but only as far as Bay and Bloor and then
south to Queen and home again. There were still too many puddles from melted
snow on the streets to venture too far. Queen Street has some pretty deep
potholes and cracks.
I
watched an Alfred Hitchcock Hour teleplay starring Phyllis Thaxter as Elsa, the
wife of Keith, who has forced her to live in a beautiful rented beach house,
which she hates because the house gives her the creeps and she thinks the ocean
sounds are mournful as death. and wants to move back to their apartment in
Pennsylvania. Another problem with the house is that it’s damp and so Keith
claims he is fixing that problem by digging a hole in the basement for
drainage. Keith loves the house and the location and is planning to buy it
whether Elsa likes it or not. The owners of the house are another unseen
married couple that have rented the house out because the wife also refuses to
live there and left her husband over it.
The beach is
frequented by young people that are always around surfing, dancing and
partying. Keith refuses to act his age and still wants to run around with
pretty young things.
When Keith finishes the hole in the basement he calls Elsa down to
marvel at his accomplishment. She tells him she’s glad he’s enjoying such a
sense of accomplishment but tells him to fill it up and take her home. He says
he will and then kills her with his shovel. He buries her there and then
cements the floor above her grave. A few days later the police arrive with
pickaxes to tear up the floor. Keith asks how they found out. The sergeant
answers, “Your wife told us.” “My wife told you?” “She tried to write Mrs
Wilson, the co-owner of the house but she couldn’t find any change of address
for her down at the post office. She was supposed to be in Texas but all of her
mail was being forwarded to Mr Wilson in Seattle. Your wife told us that any
fool know that if a woman leaves her husband she wouldn’t let him get her mail.
That proves that Mrs. Wilson is dead and Mr. Wilson must have killed her.” When
the cops questioned Mr Wilson he broke down and confessed that he’d buried his
wife in the cellar. Just then one of the cops calls up from the basement that
they’ve found something and they’d better bring Keith downstairs.
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