The May Gray, as the local weatherman called the last three gloomy days, was

finally over and the morning was cool and clear. After spending yesterday

walking around the neighborhood and reading in a Starbucks, Bill hopped on his

trusty ebike and headed south to Sunnyvale.

Traffic was light, the wind was behind his back, and along Central Express he

pedalled at an easy pace. In 15 minutes, he switched at Mary onto Evelyn W and

soon arrived downtown. A few couples lounged around in the sun in Plaza del Sol

opposite to the train station to his left. The sandwich joint which served a

tasty crab triple-decker, 10 years ago, was now Philz Coffee. He quietly glided

by the next two bustling blocks studded with cafes and restaurants and with a

pedestrian zone in between, and turned left at the fourth intersection onto

Aster Ave.

The apartment complex where he lived briefly 15 years ago was still there but

beyond, the neighborhood around the Lawrence CalTrain station was transformed

from industrial junk yards to Toll Brothers low-rises. The Bay Area was still

booming.

As part of the trip, Bill was rooting out a bike route to the martial art gym he

visited last week. The bijou grade crossing under the tracks called for some

maneuvering but the dojo was only one minute away from the north platform of

Lawrence. The one-way trip took in total 35 minutes. Not bad at all. In another

15 minutes, he was packing cherries, soft tofu, and kimchi ingredients into

panier bags in front of the Korean market on El Camino.

The store-minder followed him out. Bill suspected that after years of training at

a police-veteran-run academy, he had acquired a flair attracting certain types.

It was not the 6ft-tall Iranian watchman at the same store last Thanksgiving who

recommended flannel-lined ski pants for winter riding. The dark 30-ish Indian in

livery was about 5'8" and lean with a pauch. The conversation started with a

comment on the bike, like the last time.

"What's with those photoes on the poster board?" It was the first time Bill

noticed at the store entranace.

"Shoplifters."

"Unbelievable!"

"Yes. Their number peaked shortly after the pandemic and has been falling since

I was here" he looked proud as an Indian prince.

"Oh. Good. You did a great job. How much does it pay?" The guy looked like an

immigrant and shouldn't mind being asked, Bill thought. To Bill, except for the

crazy rich ones, every Asian newcomer cared about money and there was nothing

wrong with it.

"Not much. But I have a second job that pays $30 an hour."

"But how much as a security guy? I am looking too, you know?"

"OK. Less than $25." But prince switched the subject: "How did you enjoy your ride?"

"Fantastic. The weather's perfect. It took 35 minutes from Mountain View."

"You rode all the way from Mountain View!?"

"Sure. Pedal assist makes it easy. Plus, these days, every mile costs a dollar,

according to my calculation," Bill entered a preaching mood when it came to

saving money and started to itemize car expenses as prince vehemently nodded

his agreement. It was only after being laid off did Bill notice transportation

costs and counted every mile on his ebike as a dollar saved.

It was a nice chat which Bill couldn't imagine to have with AI and he left with

the knowledge of a security guy's pay and the hope that the Indian would convert

to ebikes.