My bike was stolen today from inside my house while I was home. My door was unlocked and I never heard anything. Sometime around 10PM I finally noticed it was gone. I called the police and they had someone come over but it's essentially useless. My wallet was stolen, too, but they're welcome to that. An expired driver's licence and a cancelled credit card: they're all yours, friend.
That bike was really a very useful tool. I had it since my second year at college. I used to ride out to Woodcock dam after class nearly every day in the spring while I lived at Caflisch Hall. That summer I used it to ride from Allegheny to Cleveland; just over 100 miles. I got to class almost every day from Ravine on it, sun, rain, or snow. I never even locked it up while I was inside at class: only college kids around and I'd recognize them in a minute if they tried to ride it after taking it.
In New Jersey it was my one and only form of transportation. My first of two major wipeouts on that bike occurred while coming home from work in a snowstorm and being run off the road by friendly New Jersyans. The only help I received was in the form of an exclamation hurled from a passing car, "Get off the goddamn road, stupid!"
Riding it without a coat on one freezing February day in Euclid in 2003 I developed a delicious cough that could be heard for blocks and became the bane of my family's good night's sleep. I'm sure my father never more appreciated being able to take out his hearing aid than the nearly two months I spent with an upper respiratory infection as an indirect result being "too hot" cooped up inside the house and having a great bike.
It's been all I've had here in Columbus. Classes, MILO, work, trips: all pedalled to and fro while on my dirty red Raleigh. That things was digustingly dirty, too. I never cleaned it and it showed. Eventually something would wear out or rust away and I'd dutifully replace it. But not before. The people down at the bike shop would always jokingly give me shit about taking better care of it. My brakes would be down to nothing and they'd say, "well, at least she's not totally
filthy," to highlight that she was.
I used it to ride to my math conference at Denison last month, through tropical storm Dennis. I watched for more than an hour as the clouds gathered to my right while I tried to outrace it. I beat a furious pace but it didn't matter: the storm broke overhead, dropping what felt like an entire river directly onto me for the next 45 minutes. I couldn't read signs after I took my glasses off, so I had no idea that when I finally stopped for some time under a patch of tall pine trees to wait out the deluge that Denison was, in fact, 2 minutes down the road.
I've always been ridiculously paranoid about keeping it locked up. I never went into any store, class, home, or even park without locking it to something or at least itself. Several people had remarked before that they were surprised that my bike hadn't been stolen, given my willingness to leave it alone in public places. Fabrizio repeatedly commented on how nearly everyone in this neighborhood who he's met has been robbed *more than once*. Not at gunpoint (though some probably have) but break-ins. In retrospect, keeping it unlocked in my living room might not have been the best idea. Explaining the setup to the police officer I felt kind of stupid, even.
I'm not particularly mad. Just a bit melancholy reminiscing about all the fun I had with it.
They left my helmet, though. I sure hope they pick one up. Or at least come back.
