Act II

My long-time readers might remember something that happened just over two years ago now (boy how the time flies). My lovely Jamis Aurora was stolen from my front porch. I was heart-broken, but eventually moved on and replaced the bike with a "new" Fuji, which was actually a good deal older than the Jamis. I fixed it up, converted it into a single-speed and fell in love with it. I eventually recovered my Jamis, and put the whole experience behind me. I discovered, however, that the Fuji was a rather superior town bike, with its flat bars, simplicity, durability and basket. Since then, I've favored the Fuji for my daily rides.

Fast forward to last Friday evening. I was at work, my Fuji locked to the tree outside, and a huge thunderstorm had rolled in and was dumping copious amounts of rain. My boss offered me a ride home and I, looking at the river that was the street to my house, accepted, thinking I'd return for my bike in the morning.

Except in the morning my bike slipped my mind. I left my house before 8:00 AM, to help move Steen and the other horses at our barn from one side of town to the other. I didn't return home until early evening and was so exhausted my poor Fuji didn't even enter my thoughts. Also, I went in and out the side door by pure chance that day, so didn't see the empty spot on the porch where my town bike usually resides.

The next morning we slept in a little, drank our coffee and sat around reading. Brian finished his book, so went to the library to get another. I was still obliviously enjoying my lazy morning when he came home, a strange look on his face. "Steve just called to say he has your Fuji," he said.

Confusion. "My Fuji?"

"Yes, some guy brought it in to the shop trying to sell it. Steve managed to get it from him."

More confusion. "How did we not even notice it was missing?" I asked.

"You left it at work," Brian said.

Guilt. "Shit," I said.

We went and got my bike back. Whomever stole it picked my Masterlock and left the lock and cable by the tree. They also felt the need to abuse my bike between the time they stole it and tried to get money for it. The basket is mangled beyond repair. The grips are punched through at the ends. There are some scratches on the frame. A brake lever is bent out of shape. It was missing one of the fender bracer bolts too, but Steve (going well beyond the call of duty) replaced that for me. I have since done a little research and learned there are about a million instructional videos online teaching the masses how to pick Masterlocks. As Brian said, the information age has its disadvantages.

I am once again saddened by the people who have no respect for others. But at the same time I am grateful for the other kind of people - the kind who will recognize your bike when they see it in the hands of a nefarious impostor, and get it back for you.

Again

It worked once so I figured I'd have another go.

On Writing

I just read Stephen King's book On Writing. And while I don't say this often about books that involve one person telling another how to do something, I will say it for this one: It was truly useful and incandescently inspirational. I get the feeling I might read it many more times before I shuffle off this mortal coil.