Sunday, August 12, 2012


Heartwarming story out of Seattle this week: young woman has her beloved one-of-a-kind fixed gear bicycle stolen by some random douchebag; friends spring into action on the internet and mine the culprit’s data to find out where he lives; one guy camps out at his house, has a “chat” with him and convinces said dirtbag to return the bike.  Girl gets her trusty steed back and all is well with the world again.

I love that story, especially the part where the friends make laminated spoke cards with the thief’s picture on them and the text “I steal bikes” for good measure.

But this happy tale has made me kinda sad as it’s reminded me of my own unsuccessful efforts to recover a beloved bike that I had stolen (my goodness!) six years ago now, my beautiful Rivendell Rambouillet that was snatched from my backyard bike shed in the dark of night by some evil crackhead, never to be seen again.

I often wonder where the bike is these days.  Is it sitting in a police evidence warehouse somewhere?  Does a hobo ride it on the sidewalks with its handlebars turned backwards?  Could it be in China?  Or Portland?  Or maybe just down the street covered by tarp in my neighbor’s backyard?

I hope it’s getting used in any case; the Rambouillet was a bike that loved to run and it would be a shame if it’s just collecting rust and dust somewhere.

I wonder if today’s technology would have enabled me to retrieve it; I know that the thief returned to the scene of his crime that day afterwards to snatch back a bike he’d left and which I tried in vain to booby-trap by lacking to a palette.

The cops were no particular help, so it’s too bad I didn’t have a gang of technologically-astute supporters behind me; I may not have gotten the Rambouillet back, but I’d probably have a happier story to tell.


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