Sunk Costs

In Portland, the 79 line runs down SE 82nd Street, which, if you go far enough north, turns into shady lane, as they say. A Craig’s List bicycle ad brought me to the area. The bike was bright and blue and had skinny tires, which seemed right on because all I really wanted was something that went fast, and I had never been to that part of town.

The guy had a cool dog (which shouldn't surprise me anymore), and his lady-friend was hosing down the bike. It was fly.

“Ahhh, I should have posted that the tire was flat. I meant to get a new tube today.” That meant I couldn’t ride it before purchasing. I gave him his asking price. I was already way out there, and I was feeling guilty for leaving my bio partner alone.

I missed biology pre-lab, but I got to see the TriMet commute in its fullest, the highlight of which was a group of twenty-something girls, fitted for soccer practice with neon shin guards and cleats.

The kid Nathaniel picked up the slack on setting up the stickleback trap. That’s what being a team is all about. We caught the most fish anyway.

The next day in econ class I learned about something called sunk costs. And the brakes are fucked up.