Fresh paint

 He spotted the rusted remains of his son's scooter covered with spider webs and a hundred stories waiting to be told. He remembered the day he brought it home for his 7th birthday, all shiny and new, with a blue bow and colorful streamers, as he stood, frozen in the moment, alongside his wife, who had saved the pennies to buy it.

In another part of the cluttered garage, he spotted his daughter's bicycle, much in the same condition as the scooter. She had to have a pink bicycle, and he remembered how difficult that was, since every pink bicycle in town was sold out for Christmas. But that didn't stop him as he drove a hundred miles in all directions, stopping at every toy store and bicycle shop he could find, and each one telling him they were sold out. With all options gone, he had an idea.

He bought a blue bike, which there were plenty of for some reason, and four cans of pink spray paint, which he used to turn blue into pink. He didn't skip a single spec of blue as he carefully disassembled the bike down to the frame and prepped it for the paint job. He had painted his own bikes when he was younger, and it came right back to him with the final result being a world-class paint job. The years passed, and young girls grew up, as did young boys. Their interests weren't pink bicycles and scooters anymore, and that's how they ended up tucked away in the garage, where one day his grandchildren would be surprised when a freshly painted scooter and pink bicycle rolled out of the garage, ready for the joys of being a kid, just one more thing to smile about.

Mike 2026