This is not my bike
My son Caleb is a motivated learner. He came up to me the other day and prattled off some Russian. “I’ve been studying Russian,” he said, beaming. Ya, I guess so.
I asked him what he just said. The sparkles that I oh-so-love in his eyes lit up with humor. I said, “Hello, my name is Caleb, this is not my bike.” And we laughed.
At least the other foreign language things we learned over the years included things like, “Where is the bathroom?” or “I would like ein bier, bitte.” But “This is not my bike?”
For the life of me, I do not understand why this would be part of beginner dialog. But before I get too critical, I am reminded of the many needless, stupid things I have thought and said to myself and others.
“This is not my bike” is certainly more benign. And hey, should you find your self on Red Square being offered a bike that is not yours – you’ll know just what to say.