I learned how to ride a bike when I was 7 years old and shortly afterwards my whole family took a trip to Apex, a big store in Rhode Island. It was before the big bridge was built. We took the long way around. Each of us 5 kids came home with a new bike. Mine was a very pretty bright blue, 3 speed, girls’ Raleigh. It was also 26” high. I grew into it. I had my share of spills.
After school, I rode that bike every day. I usually went over to my friend Beth’s house or to my friend Judy’s house. By the time I was in 11th grade I decided I needed a 10 speed bike and the blue Raleigh gathered dust for a decade. But then when I lived on campus at U.R.I. I needed an easy bike to tool around on. The girls’ bike fit the bill. I dusted it off, filled the tires and brought it over the bridges to Kingston.
I sewed it a special heavy plastic tarp and put Velcro on both ends. The tarp was custom-made to fit the railing of the steps in front of our apartment at Grad Village. One night I was careless and I failed to put the padlock on the bike. I just used the tarp. When I woke up the next morning my husband told me that my bike had been stolen. Sad as I was, I put my pen to paper and wrote up a letter to the editor of the school’s daily newspaper, the 5-cent Cigar. I made a few calls first asking 4 different individuals if I could use their contact information in my letter. All 4 agreed to it. I described the bike clearly and concisely, mentioned that it had been in the same family for 28 years, added in the general location of our apartment building without getting too specific, suggested that the guilty party speak to any of the 4 campus chaplains, and signed off with a short prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray my bike you shall not keep.” And then I signed it Winnie McIntyre. Now that is not my name and there was no one I knew with that name. It just sounded good to me. Plus, I was in library school. I had to be serious and keep my name out of the paper.
The first day, I noticed my letter did not appear in the paper. I didn’t think the Cigar juried its’ letters the way I’m sure the New York Times does. I marched straight into the Cigar’s office in the student union building and made a query as to why Winnie McIntyre’s letter didn’t make it in. They didn’t think I was serious. They couldn’t believe there was any chance I might get my blue bike back. I remained optimistic. I pleaded with them and the next day my letter was printed. I mean Winnie McIntyre’s letter was published. Success! I went into the Cigar office again and thanked them profusely.
When I woke up early the next morning, my husband had already been outside on the steps to smoke and he had news for me before I even had my head off the pillow- my bike was back!
I penned a short thank you note as a letter to the editor and it was published the next day. Then I got dressed and took my bike out for a spin!
After school, I rode that bike every day. I usually went over to my friend Beth’s house or to my friend Judy’s house. By the time I was in 11th grade I decided I needed a 10 speed bike and the blue Raleigh gathered dust for a decade. But then when I lived on campus at U.R.I. I needed an easy bike to tool around on. The girls’ bike fit the bill. I dusted it off, filled the tires and brought it over the bridges to Kingston.
I sewed it a special heavy plastic tarp and put Velcro on both ends. The tarp was custom-made to fit the railing of the steps in front of our apartment at Grad Village. One night I was careless and I failed to put the padlock on the bike. I just used the tarp. When I woke up the next morning my husband told me that my bike had been stolen. Sad as I was, I put my pen to paper and wrote up a letter to the editor of the school’s daily newspaper, the 5-cent Cigar. I made a few calls first asking 4 different individuals if I could use their contact information in my letter. All 4 agreed to it. I described the bike clearly and concisely, mentioned that it had been in the same family for 28 years, added in the general location of our apartment building without getting too specific, suggested that the guilty party speak to any of the 4 campus chaplains, and signed off with a short prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray my bike you shall not keep.” And then I signed it Winnie McIntyre. Now that is not my name and there was no one I knew with that name. It just sounded good to me. Plus, I was in library school. I had to be serious and keep my name out of the paper.
The first day, I noticed my letter did not appear in the paper. I didn’t think the Cigar juried its’ letters the way I’m sure the New York Times does. I marched straight into the Cigar’s office in the student union building and made a query as to why Winnie McIntyre’s letter didn’t make it in. They didn’t think I was serious. They couldn’t believe there was any chance I might get my blue bike back. I remained optimistic. I pleaded with them and the next day my letter was printed. I mean Winnie McIntyre’s letter was published. Success! I went into the Cigar office again and thanked them profusely.
When I woke up early the next morning, my husband had already been outside on the steps to smoke and he had news for me before I even had my head off the pillow- my bike was back!
I penned a short thank you note as a letter to the editor and it was published the next day. Then I got dressed and took my bike out for a spin!
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