Life’s Outtakes
(Daris Howard, award-winning, syndicated columnist, playwright, and author, can be contacted at daris@darishoward.com; or visit his website at http://www.darishoward.com)
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Word Count 681
How Much Is A Bike Worth
By
Daris Howard
I threw down my wrench in frustration, and went to find a better one. I was living in New York, working with a young man named Martin, and our only means of transportation was bicycles. The problem was that I spent all of my free time fixing mine. I was only gone for about 15 minutes, but when I came back, my bike had been stolen. I couldn’t believe it had disappeared so quickly.
I filed a police report, and did everything I could, but I knew the chance of recovering my bike was very small. I was disheartened about losing it. The money to buy it had been a gift from my grandfather. He had sent it after I wrecked my previous bike when I crashed through a barbed wire fence.
This time I had no gift money, and I didn’t want to ask for any. So, while I searched for a cheap, used bike, Martin and I were reduced to walking. One day, while we were out working, we saw a man go by with three bikes. He was riding one, pulling one, and he had another one draped around his shoulders.
Martin nudged me. “Maybe we ought to follow him and see if he has seen yours.”
An hour or so later a young boy approached us, glancing nervously around as he spoke.
“Hey, Mistas. I sees yous twos a walkin’. I’se a thinkin’ dat maybe you could use a baawk. Well, my brudder needs some monay real bad. ‘Ees got a baawk dat is good as new dat he’d sell real cheap. I’se a wonderin’ if you’s mawt be intrested.”
Martin smiled. “Yeah, we are kind of sick of walking.”
“What kind of bike is it?” I asked.
The little boy glanced around more nervously. “What kin’a baawk you want?”
Martin’s smile turned to a grin. We, of course, knew why those bikes were so cheap. I patted the boy on the head. “I’m afraid we probably wouldn’t be interested.”
As the boy went away, Martin turned to me. “You know, you should have taken him up on it. Maybe we would have ended up finding your bike.”
“Or, more likely,” I answered, “I would have end up with somebody else’s stolen bike.”
A few days later we were visiting with some of the other young men we worked with, and Martin told of our experience.
“You really should have gone with the boy,” Taylor said.
“Nah,” I answered. “I’m afraid there’s a chance I could have seen my own bike, and I might have gotten angry. That wouldn’t have been a good situation. It would be better for me to just find another cheap, legitimate bike somewhere.”
“I had my bike stolen not too long ago, too,” Taylor said, “and I think if you get a chance to buy your own bike back, you should. And you shouldn’t feel bad about paying for it as long as you can dicker them down to a decent price.’
I was shocked. “Are you kidding? Buy my own bike back? That just senseless.”
“I had thought so, too,” Taylor replied. “But I originally bought my bike for over $200, and I swear it was always breaking down. I wasted almost all of my free time trying to keep it running, when I would have rather spent that time writing letters home.”
“What has that got to do with buying it back?” I asked.
“Well, after it got stolen, I found it at this place that was selling bikes. They had oiled it up, and totally repaired it. I ended up buying it back for only $10, and it has worked great ever since.”
His grin widened as he continued. “I couldn’t have gotten it fixed that well at a repair shop for ten times that amount. If they were smart they would realized they could make more money as a bike repair shop than they do selling stolen bikes.”
I smiled at that, and decided that if I ever did find my bike again, I might just pay the repair bill and buy it back.
Article from 5 years back as a second choice.
Teaching Children How To Work and The Value Of Money
By
Daris Howard
“Dad, I would really like to go on the band trip to the amusement park this year,” my daughter informed me. I looked at our budget and it was squeezed so tight that I didn’t think we could get one more cent out of it. With the number of children we have, myself on a teaching salary, the concept of free education is a misnomer. If my daughter signed up for band it was only free if she didn’t play an instrument or go on any of the band trips. If my son played football it was only free as long as he didn’t need any pads or gear. If my daughter signed up for track it was only free if she wore her own shoes while everyone else wore cleats. And thus the list went on and on.
Every fall we would start out with hundreds of dollars in fees and expenses for the events my children desired to do. We hated to curtail their enthusiasm, but it seemed like they wanted to do everything that came along. It was then, as more and more of my children were getting into school, that I hit on the perfect plan. I tilled up nearly an acre of our horse pasture and planted raspberries. “What are we planting these sticks for?” my son asked.
“These sticks,” I replied, “are going to make it so you kids can earn money for the extra things you want in school.”
My son looked at me dubiously, as though he thought I was quite a few plants short of a full row. I realized it would take at least two years before my investment would start to pay off, and indeed it was hard to weed and take care of them the first two years for very little return. But in the third year the berries came on with great strength. I was out picking berries with my children before 6:00 every morning, picking well into the heat of the day.
What I picked we canned; what they picked we sold. They got to keep half of the money, the other half going to pay the expenses. They could easily make $8 per hour if they worked hard. My one daughter could make almost double that. From my picking, we canned about 200 quarts of raspberries and finally started selling some of them.
I love raspberries, especially as jam on hot bread, or just in a bowl with milk and sugar. I would eat enough raspberries while picking that I wouldn’t even want any lunch. As we were getting toward the end of summer the children could hardly wait to go back to school, especially when I reminded them that I had planted nine different varieties to help extend the season well into fall. When school started, I found myself alone, picking berries each evening after work. No matter how I coaxed I couldn’t get any help.
When it came time for the fees and extras at school that fall, we set up the rules for the use of the money on what we now called the “earn it if you want it” program. If it was required for the class we paid it. If it was extra we paid half and they used their money to pay half.
It was then that we found even more important aspects of this “earn it” program - our children learned the value of money. When the time for the band trip approached, and my daughter had not yet requested we pay our half, I questioned her about it.
“I’m not going,” she replied.
I was shocked. “Why not?”
“Do you know how many berries I had to pick to earn the money that it would take to pay my half? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to pick that much just to go to an amusement park.”
And one last benefit occurred that I hadn’t considered. With the family gathered around one night, one son told me he planned to get an advanced degree in college so he could earn lots of money without having to pick berries all of his life. “College is expensive,” I told him, “If I were you I would get busy picking berries to earn the money in case you don’t get a scholarship.”
It really amazes me how many of my children now get straight A’s in school - working hard for scholarships. I guess I might be picking berries alone pretty soon.
(Daris Howard, award-winning, syndicated columnist, playwright, and author, can be contacted at daris@darishoward.com; or visit his website at http://www.darishoward.com)
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