The Case of the Missing Yellow Trike

     "I got bad news," Ed reports as he comes in from his early morning trike ride, "I can't find the yellow trike."
     "You can't find the trike you were riding?" His trike still isn't fixed so he's riding mine.
     Where are my shoes? I'm panicking. Did someone steal it?  Jarom's Highway Patrol vehicle is parked in front of the Olsens. They would have to be awfully brazen.  Did it roll someplace?
     "Come and show me where you had it last," I call as I rush out the door. 
     "At the Olsens."
     I relax. Living at the end of our circle, it couldn't go very far. I rather pictured it rolling down Raymond and gaining such speed that it flew over the barriers separating us from Kaysville, picking up more momentum down the steep hill and rolling straight into the Great Salt Lake, if there's still water in it.
     The minute I get out on the street, I can see it. It must have rolled backwards from the Olsen to the Sorensens, jumped the curb in front of a car parked on the street and stopped. "I still can't see it," he yowls, so I walk over with him. He starts to push it home. I tell him he should ride it to see if there's any damage.
     "The Olsens are going on a cruise to Alaska," he tells me. "They are going with the Hawkins and they didn't even invite us. They know I love cruises. They are going to the same ports we went to and will be gone for seven days.  Her sister is a travel agent."
     All the while he is finding out this bit of neighborhood news, his trike is on a trip of its own.
     Defector!

The Case of the Defector Trike

Wonder where the yellow trike went
When the first search for it was spent?
Luckily it had not gone far
And that it had missed every car.
Yes, it rolled away in the town,
Past curb and sidewalk, up and down.
                    --DeLoy Esplin