ame Plane Different by Rich Sinclair Here is a little story. My name is Richard. I live in the city. Not “ downtown “ or anything though. There is a forest across the street from my house. I enjoy life most of the time. Some- times I out-pace myself and try to do too much. Things get weird then. I’m certainly more balanced than I used to be though. I have a little brother . His name is Douglas. He lives in the city too. Right about now Doug is discovering more weird things about life. He is a funny guy and I like him a lot. I have a sister too, with a fam- ily. She lives in the suburbs. I haven’t talked with her for months. She probably hates my guts now. I ride my bike(s) a lot. I have three. I catch flack about that. I race my mountain bike. It’s lots of fun. As a matter of fact, I just got back from a race. I race every weekend in the summer months. And everyday I ride my bike to work. And then I ride my bike at work, all day. I,m a bike courier. Then, I ride home from work. And sometimes, after work I ride my bike. I think that I am a freak some- times. It’s windy outside. The leaves are all blown and show their silvery undersides. Every window in our house in our house is poen. And it is so nice out. It was sunny and hot alright. Wew. I think today I came close to heat stroke or something. I feel a little weird right now. I feel inclined to explain my simple and humble life to the world so that maybe it will leave me alone. I think that my job is renegade. It puts me in a position where I consantly make exceptions to the system(our beloved society). I find myself very frustrated sometimes because I see that I am making a viable exception to the rule but at the same time it’s also a mistake I am making and potentially very expensive at that. I was this evening, for example, going to the bank and then the store in my car. I stop at the bank to quickly pick-up some cash, parking my car partially in a bus zone (my cars rear wheels were in line with the “bus ‘s no stopping sign”). No problem tho, right ? I think to myself it’s nine o’clock pm on W. [0th Ave., Sunday- not exactly a hustle and bustle hour. There’s no bus in sight for at least a km. down the road, as I check everytime I do this . Anyway. You know it. A mistake. Mr. Transit/Investigator/Ticket - guy drives up and... “bla bla diddy bla.” Sens- ing some humour in his discourse, I thought I would reciprocate. I smiled, I tried to look as confused and guilty as possibly, and then told him to go away with some “shew - shew” gesture. No problem! Right?...well, kinda but not really. Into the bank I go -lickety-split, 32 secounds later I bound out to my car in com- plete synch with Mr. Transit- guy who not only drove away with a smile, but came back with a lecture on THE SYSTEM for little old me, sunburned, dazed a little, and feeling humble to begin with. How I was picked for this performance tonight- of-all-nights, I’ve asked myself over and over again since. So Ticket-guy informs my innocent I will lose when grandma wipes-out setting off the bus which is ill parked because of ME ame Plane Different by Rich Sinclair Here is a little story. My name is Richard. I live in the city. Not downtown “ or anything though. There is a forest across the street from my house. I enjoy life most of the time, Some- ‘times I out-pace myself and try to do too much. Things get weird then. I’m certainly more balanced than I used to be though. I have a little brother . His name is Douglas. He lives in the city too. Right about now Doug is discovering more weird things about life. He is a funny guy and I like him a lot. Ihave a sister too, with a fam- ily. She lives in the suburbs. I haven’t talked with her for months. She probably hates my guts now. Iride my bike(s) a lot. I have three. I catch flack about that. I race my ‘mountain bike. It’s lots of fun. As a ‘matter of fact, I just got back from a race. I race every weekend in the summer months. And everyday I ride my bike to work. And then I ride my bike at work, all day. I,m a bike courier. Then, I ride home from work. And sometimes, after work I ride my bike. I think that I am a freak some- times. It’s windy outside. The leaves are all blown and show their silvery undersides. Every window in our house in our house is poen. And it is so nice out, It was sunny and hot alright. Wew. I think today I came close to heat stroke or something. I feel a little weird right now. I feel inclined to explain my simple and humble life to the world so that maybe it will leave me alone. 1 think that my job is renegade. It puts me in a position where I consantly make exceptions to the system(our beloved society). I find myself very frustrated sometimes because I see that I am making a viable exception to the rule but at the same time it’s also a mistake I am making and potentially very expensive at that. 1 was this evening, for example, going to the bank and then the store in my car. I stop at the bank to quickly pick-up some cash, parking my car partially in a bus zone (my cars rear wheels were in line with the “bus ‘s no stopping sign”). No problem tho, right ? I think to myself it’s, nine o’clock pm on W. 10th Ave., Sunday- not exactly a hustle and bustle hour. There’s no bus in sight for at least a k.m. down the road, as I check everytime I do this . Anyway. You know it, A mistake. Mr. Transit/Investigator/Ticket - guy drives up and... “bla bla diddy bla.” Sens- ing some humour in his discourse, I thought 1 ‘would reciprocate. I smiled, I tried to look as confused and guilty as possibly, and then told him to go away with some ‘shew - shew” gesture. No problem! Right?...well, kinda but not really. Into the bank I go -lickety-split, 32 secounds later I bound out to my car in com- plete synch with Mr. Transit- guy who not only drove away with a smile, but came back with a lecture on THE SYSTEM for little old me, sunburned, dazed a little, and feeling humble to begin with. How I was picked for this performance tonight- of-all-nights, I've asked myself over and over again since. So Ticket-guy informs my innocent I will lose when grandma wipes-out getting off the bus which is ill parked because of ME