TLC

 There was a time when my Harley was everything to me. I invested nearly every dollar I had into making it a showstopper, but I soon realized I needed a place to stay. After searching for affordable accommodations, I found an ad for a lived-in apartment that needed some work.

I hopped on my bike and followed the directions. The place was a charming but slightly worn house. An elderly lady answered my knock with a warm smile. “I’m here about the apartment,” I said. “It’s out back,” she replied, handing me a rusty key from her apron. “Just watch out for the pigeons.”

As I approached the back, disbelief hit me. The “apartment” was a small, lopsided shack on dock pilings, with a chicken-wire cage of cooing pigeons underneath. I climbed the rickety steps and unlocked the door, but something blocked it. With a shove, it opened, revealing a bizarre interior: a tilted kitchen, cramped bedroom, tiny bathroom, and a sitting area. I felt like I was in a funhouse; a pencil I set on the table shot off in a blink.

During that sweltering summer, I doubted the heater would even work come winter. Rust stained the sinks, and the bathroom offered only a small shower with a torn curtain. An old fan sat next to the stove, grease-coated and ominous. The linoleum was ripped and sticky, making every step a challenge. Yet, at seventy-five dollars a month, I was desperate enough to take it, forgoing a lease as the place felt like a ticking time bomb.

After long workdays, I returned to clean, hauling junk to the dump while making space for my bike under the stairs, carefully covered to avoid pigeon droppings.

Winter brought brutal cold, with snow sneaking through unsealed windows. The heater blew only warm air, and sleep was a struggle beneath five heavy blankets. When spring arrived, I told the old lady I was leaving. She shrugged and closed the door without another word.

One week later, after cleaning pigeon mess off my bike, I packed my saddle bags and said goodbye to the lopsided shack, hoping that the roar of my Harley wouldn’t bring it crashing down. 

Mike 2025