"That reminds me of something that happened to me," said the inmate, laughing. "One time I bought a bike, late at night--I was dealing drugs at the time. This guy had a beautiful Cannondale for real cheap, so I bought it. The next morning, I was riding it around and a friend of mine said, `Hey, you better take a look at what you're riding!' I was pretty messed up then. So, I looked and guess what? I'm riding a policeman's bike!" He laughed, then his mood turned suddenly reverential. "I really hated to chop that one up," he said with evident regret.
I considered buying a prison blue shirt (like the cons wear). "How far do you think I'd get if I put this on & started riding my bike down the road?" I asked. "About two blocks," he said. "Maybe. With those jeans on?" (Jeans are what a lot of the cons wear inside.) "Plus, you'd have a whole lot of new friends who wouldn't be very happy with you. See, there'd be a general lock-down while DOC made sure you didn't belong inside." I considered buying a customized license plate, until I found out I'd have to pick it up days later, after it was made within the prison. I didn't know they still made license plates in prison.
Outside we chatted with a DOC officer who was putting a customized license plate on his vehicle. He admired my rented Mongoose. He also backed up what the convict had said about wearing prison blues around Florence. After the guard left, the convict came outside (he's a high-level trustee, obviously) and practically salivated over the Mongoose. I could almost hear the voice of Homer Simpson saying, "Monnnnnn-goooooose...."
"How far do you think you'd get on this thing?" I asked.
"They'd never catch me," he said, and went back inside.
