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California born and bred 25 year old dance machine now living in Salt Lake City. Sardonically irreverent spinster, DIY decorator & vegan baking enthusiast who enjoys sequins, house plants & malt liquor.

Friday, September 30, 2011

On bicycle theft.

This was how I found my faithful companion Thursday morning when I left for work.

Naturally, my response went from shocked to infuriated to sad and back around again. I was so upset that I cried right there on the sidewalk. Sure, you can say that I had it coming by leaving her outside overnight or by only locking my front wheel and frame, but neither of those things woud change the fact that someone was shitty enough to take something that didn't belong to them. What in the hell someone else would want with a single scratched rim, nearly bald tire and a few girly spoke cards is beyond me, but it was MY scratched rim, bald tire and spoke cards.

A lot of non-cyclists tend to have a hard time understanding the bond that forms between a cyclist and their bike. It wasn't just someone taking a wheel that can easily be replaced, it was a violation. My bike has been with me through some of the roughest and happiest times in my life. She's always there, ready to take away my stress or to make my good mood just a little bit better. She pushes me to test my limits and gives me the greatest feelings of accomplishment when I look back and say "I did that?!".  I trust her with my life everyday and in turn give her all of the respect she needs.

So you see, it's a personal insult. Luckily a great friend came to my rescue almost immediately and is loaning me an extra wheel of his to use until I buy another one. I know there is zero chance of finding out who did this and they better pray that I don't.

Lock thy steads ladies and gentlemen! Protect your investments and companions. You can't control the scumbugs, but you can sure as hell try.

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