It wasn't a particuarly grueling day at work, didn't have to clock in super early, the drivers personality quirks neatly stowed away. Didn't have a lot of stops or particularly far to drive. So there's no explaining why I left my clothes on top of my bike rack instead of strapped to the rack with a bungee cord. Just wasn't paying attention: I folded 'em up to take home and when I got home they weren't there.
As tragedies go it's pretty minor. I lost a 15? 17?-year-old REI fleece vest and a grey cotton hoodie I pulled out of a Berkeley free box. Oh, and the Starbucks card I found at the natural gas filling station. I think it had two or three dollars on it. It was in the pocket. And a card for a complimentary small Peets coffee my boss gave me. The drawstring on the hoodie was always getting caught in my metal route book, or floating in my tea, and it had a rip on one sleeve I inexpertly sewed up. The fleece was tissue-paper thin and was fitted at the waist with a couple of rusty safety pins.
But I really liked that hoodie. It was a good color on me. And I felt so snuggly in the mornings, fleece collar poking up through the hoodie's neckhole, hood bunched up around the back of my neck and ears, wet string dangling.
We drove Little Jumbo to the bakery, following my bike route where we could, looking for it. Gone.