Every night when we walk, we pass Chumpie's. You might call Chumpie's a convenience store, but it's not really that convenient. Unlike a 7-11 or a Wawa (oh, how I love you, Wawa!), Chumpie's has limited hours and is closed on holidays. Which is actually fine because they don't really carry that much. No matter, we rarely actually enter Chumpie's.
Mr. HP is fascinated with the Chumpie's bike. For whatever reason, the braintrust at Chumpie's has put this huge sign advertising ice cream on the back of one of those adult tricycles. Not that anyone actually rides the bike anywhere. They just bring it to the road everyday, and back to the store at night. Mr. HP kind of wants to steal the bike. He always notes if it is locked up or not. I point out that if he started peddling off, it's not like (a) he would be hard to spot or (b) he could get away very quickly. No matter, he still kind of wants to snatch that bike. I keep imagining the kid behind the counter spotting him jumping on the bike, pedaling away. The kid sighs, shakes his head, mutters, "not again," grabs his car keys, and chases after Mr. HP. "Dude, you gotta bring the bike back."