Stolen Bike

Today I rode Tyler's bike to work, as I've been doing for the past week because the tires on mine are flat and I'm too lazy to get them pumped. I chained his blue mountain bike to a light pole right outside the cafe and worked until 7 p.m.

Today I had to take the subway home because when I stepped out the door and walked towards the bike, it was gone.

And our yellow lock lay in a pathetic heap around the light pole.

Many things flashed through my head, but most familiar to me was the initial shock and disbelief. "Where's my bike?" I wondered as I walked towards the light pole. "Didn't I lock it here...?"

When I saw the lock on the ground, I felt that clench in my chest that I felt when my clutch was stolen at my senior prom in high school.

And when my purse was stolen at a party in college.

And when the person who stole my purse wrote checks on my already-closed account, which caused them to bounce, which caused creditors to come a-callin'.

And when someone stole my identity on eBay and tried to wipe my account of all my money.

Let's just say I'm not unfamiliar with this feeling when you first realize something has been taken from you. And these feelings kept rushing back as I stared -- and stared -- and finally picked up -- the yellow lock that had been simply cut. Useless.

Then I believed it.

Then the tears automatically welled up in my eyes.

Then I picked up the lock. Then I called Tyler.

Then I marched to the subway stop, carrying my dejected bike lock (if a bike lock can be dejected). Really. F-ing. Pissed.

WHO STEALS A BIKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY?

WHY?

WHY DIDN'T I SEE IT?

WHO STEALS A BIKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY?

WTF?!

Brooklyn, I am trying so hard to love you, but when shit like this happens you make it really difficult. I have to go to work at 10 a.m. and there won't be any bike stores open. Which means I'm going to have to take the bus.

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