There needs to be one for bicycle thieves.
Last night my belief in the goodness of mankind was castrated by the discovery of my bike no longer being where I last put it. I am really upset at this. People seem to understand being upset about one’s bike being stolen but when I tell them that I’d had the bike since 1999 they then don’t get the big deal. It’s an old bike, good riddance, you get to buy a new high tech one now, hurray! No.
It was my bike. It saw me through my first apartment, 5 other homes, 2 cats, 2 university degrees, 6 jobs and a partridge in a pear tree. It was a glorious green and blue 28-gear mountain bike with front suspension which I’d pimped up in 2007 with road tires and one of those saddles with the hole down the middle for the avoidance of clitoral numbness while cycling. I named it Owen, after Michael Owen who was the Rooney of 10 years ago but also cute (yay World Cup year etc.). My bike and I, we had a history and that history was fantastic, because life sucks sometimes, but my bike brought much happiness and never let me down.
I had bought Owen over 10 years ago with insurance money after my previous bike had been stolen out of my apartment’s bike room (guess how this bike was stolen? “The Circle of Life…”). It was really fancy and over $1000 and for the next 9.5 years I carried it up and down apartment stairs as necessary to keep it in my living quarters so it wouldn’t be stolen. I did this at four apartments, but then I moved here.
The building manager convinced me that this bike room was extra-secure because not everyone in the building had a key to it. Oh, right, but I forgot, there’s a drug dealer in the building and I live in the ghetto, so I’m an idiot. The building rules state that you can’t have your bike in your apartment, but when I get a new one I’m keeping it up here, which may result in me being forced to move but someplace where I could properly store a bicycle would be really fucking nice right about now.
I seem to go through decade-long cycles (*cough*) of having a bike stolen. 1990, 1999, 2010. I haven’t given away or sold a bike that I didn’t outgrow first. I bought good quality bikes that could last a decade of use, and in the case of this one would’ve lasted another decade because it still looked and performed like awesomesauce. I made sure of that because I repaired and upgraded it as needed. I just want it back, but I’m never going to see it again.
The weather was gorgeous today, warm and sunny, and it would’ve been the perfect day to go cycling.
Update: Best ending to the story possible, short of thief getting arrested: I found the bike and stole it right back!
dude. that sucks.
that sucks indeed, and I know how disheartening it can be, having had 6 bikes stolen in the past ten years (two bikes in a two-day period, even)
Gah. I’ve had my bike since 1992, and with the various repairs and upgrades, it’s still going great. But I’ve always kept it inside. I have had components, seats, etc, stolen, though.
And now you got it back! I don’t think that happens stupendously often.