In a city full of super-heroes, who -- perhaps because of their environmental sensibilities -- ride everywhere on bicycles rather than in super-cars, lives an unknown super-super-hero. Indistinguishable from the other super-hero citizens, he can transform himself in an instant to deal with the classic super-crisis: a broken bicycle.

Confronted with a damaged bike, this anonymous man doffs his super-hero garb, assumes his working-class flat hat and brown overalls, takes out his tool-kit and emerges as ... Bicycle Repair Man.

The super-hero citizens are astonished at the mysterious appearance of their savior. They gather around the broken bike and point out to one another how Bicycle Repair Man wields his wrench, how he straightens the bent wheel and repairs the damaged spokes. Finally, the now-functioning machine is returned to its super-hero owner. "Oh, thank you, Bicycle Repair Man!" says the grateful recipient. "How ever can we repay you?" The super-super-hero smiles modestly and assures him that it's just another job for Bicycle Repair Man.

This odd comedy sketch from a famous British series emphasizes for us practitioners of Steps 10, 11 and 12 the futility of thinking that our lives consist of problems for which we -- or other people -- can determine and implement the solution. It's merely our egos that tell us we're suffering, and that cause us to cast around to find something or somebody which will make the pain disappear. It is perhaps more in meditation than anywhere else that we discover, not only that we have no problems, but that there is no "I" to have a problem in the first place. In the practice of meditation, we find that both the "I" and the "problem" are as mythical as Bicycle Repair Man himself.