There are a lot of reasons to be late for work, but the best ones ought to be creative. One morning last week I rolled from home on the Dummy with a carefree feeling that something cool was about to come my way. Our family is moving soon, from a cramped apartment into a house. We have a lot of stuff but not much furniture. Providing a place for friends and family to sit is a minor detail, I suppose. Although I wasn’t necessarily thinking about that on this fine morn, I have been hitting alleys and scoping out curbs during my recent commutes.

As I rounded a corner behind some of the swanky houses that overlook the south side of Lake Harriet, I spied a chair on the curb. I slowed down to look it over and discovered it was a pretty nice find – a solid oak mission style rocker. A sign taped to the back read: “Please take. The rocker needs to be repaired.” The chair’s previous owners were kind enough to leave the broken tip of the rocker. A few clamps, some epoxy and a couple of dowels should do the trick. Hell, the seat cushion wasn’t even stained. I called the brains of our domestic operation to see if: A) she wanted it and B) she’d come get it with the car since I was already late for work. She said it sounded nice but was frazzled and had to get the kids out the door and to the sitter right away. I contemplated leaving my prize but I knew it wouldn’t be there for long.

“What the hell … I’m already late for work,” I surmised, “What’s another half hour?” So I pulled my assortment of straps and bungees from the Freeloaders and went to town lashing that oaken beauty to the deck of the Dummy. Several joggers, dog walkers and at least two motorists passed by while I was securing the precariously balanced chair. When it was all said and done I had a Joad family load ready to wheel the two miles back home.

I think it’s great when folks give you the double take as you roll gracefully by, managing what must look to them an impossible burden on a bicycle. I got the chair safely home and unloaded, then pedaled merrily into work. Later I got a call from HQ: “That’s a GREAT chair! How did you get it home?” “I just put it on the deck of the Dummy,” was my reply. My Dear seemed amazed as she asked with an astonished tone in her voice, “Is there anything you can’t haul with that bike?” I was stumped. Come to think of it, I haven’t found anything yet.