Rock's mind was consumed by the urgency of his task set for early the following morning. It was late at night, and he had just ridden a borrowed and very odd-looking bicycle from a drive-through window of a Sonic near his hotel room in downtown Memphis.
He stopped in the parking lot with the salad he ordered. It was all he could eat since he had left his insulin at his home in Levy. Rock knew he had to return for it, but he had no available vehicle with him, and he was committed to a week-long stay for a basketball tournament the paper had assigned him to cover. The only option Rock could imagine was to rent a car, but not until this very moment had a clear idea formed of how he could get to the nearest rental agency.
Now he knew. He could tell that none of the Sonic staffers—overwhelmed as they were by the long line of cars—would notice if he rode away on the bike they lent him. Though it was made of hard plastic shaped into the form of a child's mini bike, it seemed sturdy and functional enough to serve his need.
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