But I just met you...

Saturday was the usual schedule for me.  Now that the weather is warmer, I can get out on the group ride and then head back to the shop in time to open up at noon.  This saturday was no different.  We rode up Buffalo Cove, a small group of us broke off from the main group to head back early and Charles and I started changing and opening up the shop. 

At about 15 minutes before our opening time, an older gentleman tried the door by jerking it a few times, found it to be locked and then waited outside.  I hadn't changed out of my riding clothes yet (Charles was mid-wardrobe change), but I figured the guy must be looking for something in particular and I unlocked the door to let him in.

In our time here at Luna Cycles, we have observed a phenomenon that seems to be somewhat unique to this area: the 1st customer of the day (one who usually appears before opening time) is going to provide some sort of anecdotal moment that can be passed along for the enjoyment of others.  Now I apologize ahead of time if the gentleman who came by last Saturday is a relative of yours, but this story simply must be told.

The gentleman in question stepped through the opened door quickly with a sense of purpose to his step. 
"Good morning.  How can I help you?", I asked.
"Do you sell jock straps?", he replied.

Uh-oh, I thought, this is going to be weird.

"No sir.  Cyclists don't use jock straps. You should try a sporting goods store."

"I did that, but they just have the ones with the plastic cup.", he countered.

"Well, that's about the only place I can think of that would have something like that.  I can't really get anything like that from any of my suppliers."

"Well, let me tell you what I got.", he said. 

Okay, it would be unfair at this point to not say that all kinds of alarm bells were ringing in my head. "This is gonna be weird. This is gonna be weird..."

"I got one nut like this (holds up balled fist, makes strange face) and the doctor says I gotta have something to support it.", the gentleman explained.

Now, the image of that balled up fist being brandished before the yearning face of that man as he related such a personal medical condition provoked me to think: "TMI! TMI! TMI!"

"Well sir, I'm sorry I just don't know what I can do to help with that." I said in my best please-strange-possibly-crazy-with-pain-from-your-unsupported-exceptionally-overlarge-testicle-man stay calm and seek help elsewhere voice.

Charles chimed in with a few comments as he took bikes outside to lock up in front of the shop.  The gentleman left wondering aloud where he might be able to find the support he needed.  I went to the back to change clothes, spent from such an early and strange customer encounter.  After changing, Charles said, "Now I know why he came to a bike shop looking for a jock strap."

"Why?"

Charles proceeded to tell me that as the man was pulling out of the parking lot, he called Charles over to his car. (I think Charles must have been the kind of kid who was always eager to look at the puppies that strange men kept in the back of their windowless vans, but that is a story for another time- ed. ) As Charles approached the car, the old man proffered his current jock strap and pointing to the label, said, "See! It says 'BIKE' right on it!"