Punk Ass Kids

Well I guess my dreams of the Tour de France are now on hold, along with my more closely held dreams of biking to work. 

This morning (at 5:20 am, I know because I checked) Boyfriend and I woke up to someone stealing our bike. I actually woke up to Boyfriend yelling at someone who stole our bike as they ran down our stairs and biked away. He says it was a girl, though he didn’t get a good look at her, except from the back, and he says she was wearing perfume. 

Elizabeth Peabody style, this shocking event has raised a lot of questions, which I will now list:

  1. When you’re a punk ass kid who steals someone bike at 5:20 in the morning (5:15 possible start of the robbery?), have you been up all night or do you wake up early for the thievery?
  2. Which was more valuable, the bike stolen or the tool used to cut the lock? Joke’s on you, sucker. I’m actually a little impressed that the gears didn’t lock up on you as you rode away. 
  3. Where is Bikey now? Has Bikey already been abandoned? 
  4. What would I have done if I had been the one to discover this blatant violation of human decency and civil law, instead of sleeping peacefully in my bed? As soon as I realized what was happening (too late, unfortunately), I immediately imagined racing after the thief down the stairs and tackling them into our landlord’s rosemary bushes, then giving her a serious lecture between punches. I also imagined confronting her in the act of cutting our lock, blocking her way of escape down our stairs. Then I imagined a knife fight, which is probably not what would have happened (but possibly). 
  5. Did Hillary Kitten alert Boyfriend to this emergency? Is she a guard cat? (Answer is probably no, will ask Boyfriend after he wakes up (he has gone back to bed)). 
  6. Who are her accomplices? 

It should be mentioned that when I say “our bike” or “our lock,” that it was actually Boyfriend’s bike and Boyfriend’s lock. It was Boyfriend’s bike, but my dream. I had no ownership of the bike, except the ownership of affection. I liked that bike. I rode that bike every day last summer to GS camp. Just the night before (I swear) I thought about asking one of our friends, who is coming to dinner on Saturday, to bring some bike tools so we could fiddle around with Bikey and get it ready for commuting. I suppose it is better that this punk ass kid stole it before I invested more time, energy, love and money into it. I suppose it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Good luck, Bikey. 

One comment

  1. I am sorry for your loss. Maybe bikey will show up again. Someone stole my dirty dry cleaning once. I lost a pair of pants I was very fond of. Don’t give up the tour de france or bike commuting yet.

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