Taking Back What's Rightfully Ours!

Since my wife's favorite bicycle was stolen from our garage on Mother's Day, things haven't been the same. As she scoured the web for a new cruiser nothing she found seemed to be exactly what she desired and I feared that she would convince herself settle on a bike that she would not be happy with after a month. All this emotion came to an end last Thursday on my ride home from work.

As I was eastbound on B Street I spied a female on a cruiser about a half of a block ahead of me. Immediately I zoomed in taking note of the bike's features as has become routine since the Mother's Day incident. The bike looked pink but I'm colorblind so I looked to the fenders, which were undoubtedly white, and then I saw the handlebars, unmistakable in all their oversized glory. At that moment I knew I had found her bike. In an attempt to control the rush of adrenaline, I tried to talk myself out of what I was witnessing but finally the sight of the gray seat that read "Iron Horse" would not allow me to do so. Immediately, I attempted to not draw attention to myself, passing the pink beauty to look as if I was just going about my business. I made my way across 14th street and flipped a U-turn almost sure that the rider would turn onto 14th. As my instinct did not let me down, immediately I got the Police on the phone as I proceeded to follow the suspect south on 14th street, thru the 7-11 parking lot, stopping 2 blocks over at a house on the corner of 12th and main to talk to a couple of guys that she obviously knew. As I concealed myself across the street behind a bush on the corner, I remained on my bicycle while keeping the police dispatcher updated on all details and events. I cringed as I witnessed the suspect park the bike on its side, choosing not to use the extra muscles in her foot to set the kickstand. She walked in the house with one of the men while the other remained on the porch looking out toward my direction. I was unsure if he had spotted me but I had no cares about that as I had found my wife's bike, the police were on the way and all I had to do now was keep the bike in my sights and wait for the authorities to arrive on the scene. Not three minutes passed and the suspect and what I now assumed was her boyfriend emerged from the house. Her boyfriend proceeded to mount the bike while he talked with her. They then headed out, him riding the bike while she walked. As they headed toward 7-11 presumably for a jumbo fountain drink or a malt liquor, I kept my distance while the dispatcher checked to see how far out a patrol car was. I had little worry that they would attempt to flee if they caught on to me, knowing that if they were stupid enough to consider such an act the pink beach cruiser would be no match for my trusty Redline 925. About halfway through the grueling 2 block trek to the store the boyfriend stopped and the girlfriend proceeded to hop on the bike with him, easily exceeding 300lbs of weight on the bicycle. I muttered, "I could kill those bastards." and then quickly remembered who was listening on the other end of the phone. As the couple entered the 7-11, leaving the bike outside unlocked, I headed across the street to the Grocery Outlet parking lot; picked a good, concealed viewing spot and hoped that someone else wouldn't take the bike while they were inside. I then realized that I had been disconnected from the police dispatcher and quickly redialed. The dispatcher picked up immediately, informing me that a patrol car was just freed up a few blocks away. As the couple proceeded to head back in the direction from whence they came, I followed. The boyfriend then began pointing or making hand gestures at something that appeared to possibly be in my direction. As I was trying to decipher if they were on to me a feeling of relief fell over me as I looked behind me to see two police cars heading in our direction. I motioned, pointing to the couple with my wife’s bike and the officers both flipped on their lights and stopped the suspects.

Immediately one of the officers flipped my wife's bike upside down, resting it on its seat and handlebars at which point he verified the serial number confirming what I was already sure of. As it turned out, the gentleman I had been trailing bought the bike for "his girl" on Mother's Day at about 5:30 for $25. $25? What a deal! I must be an idiot. I thought I got a steal (no pun intended) at $135. His story seemed fairly legitimate as he named of a known local crook as the seller of the bike. When I mentioned my trailer that was stolen along with the bike, the suspect informed me that the "dealer" he bought the bike from was pulling a trailer. The police then cited him and informed him that unless he could prove that he purchased the bike from said thief he would be charged with "Theft by Possession." I contemplated whether or not to have these charges dropped but knowing that unless there was pressure on him he would have no motivation to assist the authorities in prosecuting the illegitimate cycle vendor, I decided to stick with protocol and allow the police to charge him.

You can imagine my wife's excitement as I called to inform her of my whereabouts and the afternoon's goings on. She headed down in the Mommy Missile, I strapped the bikes to the back, the suspect apologized, shook hands with us and we were headed home with her long-lost bike! Despite all her disbelief, I told my wife that I knew we would see that bike again someday but I had no idea that it would be this soon and that the bike would still be in nearly the same condition it was in when stolen. The moral of this story though, I told her, is that if you spend enough time on a bicycle you don't miss much. I guarantee that I would have not found the bike on my commute home last Thursday had I been burning fossil fuels, as I would have been on a different route, inside a bubble and not nearly as alert to my outside surroundings.

Burglarized

Congratulations. Broad daylight, you stroll into a suburban garage and take the most convenient, handsome bicycle of the bunch and a trailer to match. You either have guts, are extremely stupid or you're one bad son of a bitch. With a Rottweiler in the backyard and a Bulldog in the house only separated from you by wood and sheetrock. You're premeditation must have been a short one. Sorry about your belt, I tried to hang on to it for you in the event you returned but the police officer insisted on keeping it, apparently they like evidence especially when they are dealing with a felony such a Burglary 1. But who are they kidding here? You know as well as I do that even if you do have a criminal record, you're punishment from the police will be minimal at best on the rare occurrence that you are caught. Once you discovered that your belt was missing I hope that you found comfort in learning that the trailer has a pressure attachment for mounting to the bike frame and therefore a belt to attach the trailer was not necessary after all.

I would like to thank you for not touching my son's bike as my wife has another bike, the Cruiser was only a bike of leisure for her. For stealing a child's bicycle would be, well honestly I would categorize such an act as just slightly less tasteless than stealing a mother's bike on Mother's Day. Oh, I know that you had no idea that the bike belonged to a mother and may have even been too high to remember that it was Mother's Day but these things considered I'm sure that any human being in this day and age may have reassessed such an act.

It should also be known that with your new bike you are eligible to receive a free tune up from REI. Just bring the bike into the store and they'd be happy to service it for you and send you on your way. My apologies in regards to the tear in the vinyl of your new Burley flatbed trailer, that was a condition that existed when I purchased the trailer two weeks ago. Had you waited a few days, you may have a more sound trailer as I was planning to patch that tear this week. I'd still be more than happy to patch it if you'd like to bring the trailer by at your convenience. In addition if at any time you are not completely satisfied with your new bicycle and trailer, please return it for a full refund, this guarantee extends to anyone who may take possession of these items for the life of both the bicycle and the trailer.

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STOLEN BICYCLE
& TRAILER

WOMEN’S IRON HORSE PT CRUISER STOLEN FROM MT. VERNON AREA ON 5/11/08 (MOTHER’S DAY)
STOLEN WITH A BLACK BURLEY FLATBED TRAILER WITH APPROX. 3” TEAR IN VINYL ON THE FRONT OF THE FRAME. PLEASE
CALL (541) 736-3758 Or Springfield Police at 726-3714

Honorable Mention...

I just decided to drop by and visit the Collin's Cycle Shop Blog tonight to see which of my fellow essay contest entrants won the fixie and you can imagine my surprise when I, well, read for yourself (Thanks again to those of you who voted for me)- http://collinscycleshop.wordpress.com/2008/04/29/we-have-a-winner/

A War of Words

Today Collin's Cycle Shop picked the top 5 essays in their "Free Fixed Gear" essay contest. The picks were based on votes and well, unfortunately, yours truly was not in the top 5. This came as a surprise as I had counted the essays with the top votes first thing this morning and was sure that I was #4 however it turned out that not all essays were tagged properly so I didn't count a few mediocre (at best) essays written by some very pretty and premiscous young ladies (or so they'd have you believe). Apparently the male majority will favor anything fabricated by an individual that remotely portrays a somewhat attractive member of the opposite sex. Who'd have thought? My only real discrepancy with the outcome of the essay contest would be the lack of rules as pertains to spelling and grammar. Had such rules been in place the Seventh Grade Teacher who just so happened to rack up the most votes would be disqualified (I recently rescued a couple of used 80’s Japanese touring bikes for my wife and I?) No offense to the essay contest leader though, we all can't be professional computer nerds with no college education.

To those of you who didn't vote for me and feel bad that I didn't win: I can do nothing to soothe your guilt, that's just something you'll have to learn to live with. (I hear that it gets easier to accept over time). It may ease your mind to know that I already have three bikes so I'll likely get by.

To my peeps who did vote for me: Thank you for your support. Unfortunately you won't be getting a ride on a free fixed gear anytime soon however next time you're in the neighborhood and find me in a generous enough mood you may find yourself on the receiving end of a ride on a single-speed road bike, cruiser, or vintage ten speed. Stay off the trike, it belongs to my kid!

So what have I learned from this experience? I should base all future essay contest writings from the viewpoint of a highly sexually active, early twenty-something female who has an unusual attractions for bike nerds. Now I just need to come up with a pen name. Suggestions?

Finally I felt that my essay or story, if you will, deserved nothing more than to come home after such a hard-fought battle. So without further delay, I give you



"A Brave New World"

It was the spring of '07 and the pedals of my cycle called to me like a long-lost love. With record oil prices looming, the threat of global climate change and a rapidly declining economy that would make even the devil himself shriek; I answered the call.

Upon the completion of my first 16 mile round trip to my daily place of business I found myself thrust into the world of cycling, a permanent resident. From the neighborhoods of Thurston to the rough and tumble streets of downtown Springtucky to the bike paths of Tracktown USA littered with transients, junkies, runners and my newly acquired brethren of cyclists; every moment was pure joy. And while joyous it was, within two months I found the serenity of the ride interrupted by a horrendous racket equivalent to that of fingernails on the chalkboard. Growing increasingly unbearable by the day, the demonic shrieks from below continued in the attempt to sabotage my ride but this was only fuel for my fire. My drive to overcome the evil that imprisoned my bicycle took me to places unimaginable by any man. This battle I would continue to fight until on the sixty-third day a revelation came to me, a relieving yet utterly disappointing realization that this battle could not be won. Not by myself nor by my enemy who had come to be known only as The Derailleur. It was a battle that could exceed time if not ceased soon. Thus I saw it in my best interest to save my energy and retreat from this bitter war. With my hatred for The Derailleur now engulfing my entire life, I knew I could no longer exist this way.

It was not until I had returned from the battle front in my mentally fragile state, weakened and exhausted that I learned of a Utopia of sorts. A paradise unscathed by the tormenting ways of The Derailleur that had plagued the rest of the cycling world. A peaceful state known only as the Single Speed. Something drew me to this bold new world. My passion for simplicity coupled with my love of the cycle, possibly? Whatever it was, something of this new world felt faintly familiar but exactly what it was I could not decipher. Nevertheless, it was on my mind around the clock. Nothing more could please me than the thought of such a wonderful state in which I could have my cake and eat it too, cycling in peace without even the slightest threat of The Derailleur and it's Napoleon-esque complex invading my way of life. Was this what was meant for me? Perhaps my recent battle had not been fruitless, after all would I not be so humbly appreciative of the Single Speed way of life if not for my bitter feud with The Derailleur?

Months have now passed since taking up residency in the world of the Single Speed. With the exception of a fortnight spent nursing a knee injury, every day lived here has been nothing short of joyous. They say we are creatures of habit and perhaps it is because of this that my rambling ways always seem to come calling. While I may still be considered youthful by many accounts, the days only allow for me to grow older. Recently I have heard talk of a new place, a more simple way, even more simplistic than that of the Single Speed some say. They call it the Fixed Gear. They say the simplicity is such that the need for handbrakes is obsolete. The cycle can be stopped by merely "pedalling backwards". Some say they are crazy, that this cannot be. Regardless, the prospect of this Fixed Gear intrigues me, drawing me like a moth to a flame. I must judge for myself. I will move swiftly and embark on this rugged new world at once but I shall not go it alone. For I fear that I cannot succeed in such a place without the company of my trusty Peugeot whom has fallen prisoner to The Derailleur and its army of Ten Cogs. Liberating the craft will be a not be a terribly easy task but a necessary task nonetheless as nobody deserves a chance at the Fixed Gear life more than my Peugeot. As I plot the rescue of my trusty cycle, I have come to realize that such a feat would not be wise to attempt alone. I must gather a crew. Word around town has it that there is no better crew to be found than the Team at Collins Cycle Shop but will they do it? Will they stand beside me in my attempt to free my trusty craft from the evil clutches of The Derailleur and seek a new life in the world of the Fixed Gear? It is said that they have experience in this field, but can I trust them? My instincts tell me I can. I have no other option I must go to them at once for I cannot do this without them.