Miyuki was so angry. Her bike was stolen, all but the front wheel, which she’d removed and brought into Harker Hall before her 20^th Century American Novel class. The thief had left the snapped lock which had secured the frame and rear wheel lying next to the bike rack. Miyuki took the wheel and the remains of the lock (thinking if she reported it to the police they could dust for fingerprints, ha!) back to her apartment, suffering through an ignominious bus ride, sure that everyone knew her plight.

At home she looked at the wheel. Unless she got the rest of her bike back, it was useless, more useless than the fractured lock. And she couldn’t afford a new bike. And even if she could, it would probably be stolen right away. Maybe the thing to do was steal someone else’s bike. But she wasn’t like that. She propped the wheel against the front door, stripped off her clothes, and went to take her shower.

After the shower, while toweling off, she thought about which route she’d take for her afternoon bike ride. Usually she rode down to the lake and up to ... Only then did she recall she didn’t have a bike, only a useless wheel, currently leaning against the door. Useless.

Those stupid thieves weren’t going to get the better of her! There had to be a use for a single bike wheel. She lifted it, bounced it, spun it, and decided she could incorporate it into her exercise routine.

But twenty minutes later she reached the conclusion that the wheel, awkward, ungainly, uncooperative, didn’t really work as an exercise companion. Maybe she could turn it into a unicycle. She shook her head at her foolishness. Even unicycles needed a seat and pedals. All she had was a rim and a tire. Nevertheless, experimentally, she straddled the wheel.

Best bike ride she’d ever had.