Tonight I rode Candyce’s bike around South Tempe, which is only a few miles west of my house. Sometime last week I dropped by a friend’s new house to see how their remodeling was coming along. I love to do this because I feel like I’m on “This Old House.” I’m the host, walking from room to room, asking just the right questions to get the remodelers to brag about their knowledge and craftsmanship. Honestly, I could do this all day…just going from one house to the next asking people about their plans.

I was blown away by the neighborhood. It was so close to my church, but so much more appealing than my own neighborhood. I just felt like people cared more about their houses on this street, and that means something to me because I care a lot about my own home. My insides sparkled with dreams of a new house. After finding out that tear-down homes in this new neighborhood would cost me a million dollars, I knew it wasn’t meant to be.

After seeing this neighborhood, I couldn’t believe that the coffee shop that Candyce works at down the street does not do better business. I mean, this is the perfect demographic. What’s wrong here? Sometimes Candyce and I flirt with the idea of buying the coffee shop and starting all over. I know we’re not the only hip couple in their 20s to have this discussion, but I am curious about how the whole business comes together. So to unofficially begin our imaginary buy-out of the coffee shop, I started to research the surrounding neighborhoods.

After exploring the several subdivisions, I come to find out that the average starting home price is $500,000, which is well above the Arizona average. Then there are miles and miles of multimillion dollar ranches with palatial homes. As a coffee shop owner, how can you not take advantage of your market? A coffee shop is a social place, a place to be and be seen. And you have endless rich people around you, and it’s like you didn’t even notice they might want a place to hang out with their yuppy friends.

Since Candyce went into school to work tonight, I decided to take her bicycle and ride around these neighborhoods for a closer look. I felt a little dorky on a girl’s bicycle, but the ride was so nice I didn’t care. I was blown away by some of these homes. I never knew there were at least twenty modern houses tucked into these neighborhoods. Modern!

The ride got even better as I drove by people’s Christmas parties. I could hear the laughter and music from every other backyard. I felt like I was in some Christmas movie. That is until I saw a car wreck. I was just humming along on the sidewalk of a busy street when a truck pulled out and was T-boned by a car in oncoming traffic. I didn’t see it happen, but I heard it happen. Then I looked up to see the steam billowing out of the hood of one car. I said a quick prayer and rode fast to see if everyone was okay. In the twenty seconds that it took to get there, both drivers got out from behind the airbag and called the police. They both seemed okay, but certainly startled. I stayed on the scene just in case I was needed for something.

First came the police, then the firetrucks. Although I feel bad that the wreck happened, I can’t deny how exciting it was to be there. In the hour that I stood there, I saw at least three Christmas parties leave somebody’s house and walk down the street to see what all the commotion was about. I became one of those bystanders who resented the others for coming to help too late. “Nothing to see here folks. It’s all taken care of.”

I would like to think I had something better to do on a Saturday night than wait for fire trucks by two smashed cars. But I didn’t have anything better to do. I’m so tired of doing everything that I do that the only place I wanted to be was where nobody expected to be.