Museum Dream

Old Indian with modern disk brake.

I want to show some friends an old museum that I have discovered in the basement of a motorcycle shop in a touristy part of town. We go to the shop, wind our way through towards the back at which point it gets too crowded, so we bail out a side door, which dumps us on a strip mall sidewalk. We go to the next shop, which is a cafe, go in the front door, walk through and out the back door. We turn left and come up behind the motorcycle shop which has some display windows there, even though this is the back of the shop. There is no door, but that doesn't stop us, I just reach up and push in on the window and it bends down enough that we are able to crawl in over it. (Apparently the window was made of dream glass.).
    We open the back of the display and climb down into the store. We have bypassed the gridlock of tourists and can go downstairs to the museum. It's not much as museums go, it's more like somebody's collection of old motorcycle paraphernalia, but there are some cool and interesting things here.
    Now we have some visitors from Norway. It's mixed group of 20 somethings, dressed in grubby denim and looking like punk rockers, or wanna be bikers. They have heard about our little adventure and they want to see it, too, so I volunteer to take them.
    We follow the same route as last time (miraculously appear at the store), wind our way through, out the side door, through the cafe and out the back door. This time I notice that we are in sort of an alley, and we could have just walked down this alley instead of taking the circuitous route we did.
    We go in through the window. This time we are accosted by one of the store employees who is a little perturbed by my unorthodox entry method, but only because it took his boss a couple of hours to put the window back into position. I hadn't realized that it would be so difficult, so I go back to the window and push it back into place. While I am there I find something that looks like it might be a black, elastic headband, except it's made of a very sheer material.
    Finished with the window, we go down to the basement to see the museum. There is also a small cafe there, kind of like the old soda fountains you used to find in drug stores. One of the women who was with me on my earlier expedition is working there as a waitress. She is wearing some kind of green, flowery dress that goes to mid-calf. I ask her about the "headband". She takes it, says that it might be hers, and stuffs it in her pocket. Huh. Okay then.