The Triumph of Cupcakes

I almost gave up on my dreams in Home Depot. Equipped with some sketches and a handy friend, I had come with a lofty plan to construct a bike rack that could carry six dozen cupcakes. Their plywood saw was out of order, no one could tell me where to find and 8-gauge locking pin, they didn't have the right kind of hinges, I had only one day for this project–and I was really hungry. Overwhelmed and defeated, I weighed my options: sit down on the floor to rock back and forth crying beneath the buzz of neon lights and the judgmental eyes of strangers, or go home empty handed to eat pizza and take a nap. My friend looked also on the verge of meltdown. Yet somehow, against the odds, we gathered our strength and triumphed.

Could my dreamy sketches of a cupcake bike become a reality? What if I was wasting all that time and money on a foolish idea? So what if I was! Sawing plywood in my livingroom, turning an old mop handle into an umbrella holder, taking turns drinking beer and screwing down hinges, I dared to beleive it could work.

Days later I was pulling the last of 14-dozen cupcakes out of the oven, frantically frosting as I prepared to debut my cupcake business at the downtown bike race and then AS220's fundraiser ball. I baked in a bikini and apron to bear the blistering heat.

The cupcake bike's maiden voyage terrified me more that the most competative and technical criterium I've raced. If I let the back heavy bike wheely or tip as gravity wished it to, days of labor and six dozen cupcakes could scatter into mush on the pavement. Now I understood why vending bikes are invariably three-wheeled or front-loading (but not homemade fro $60). Miraculously, with my roommate guiding me through traffic, we made it across downtown to set up at he bike race.

It worked. I sold dozens of cupcakes at both events, glad I didn't let Home Depot defeat me, and that I followed through on my foolish idea.