Monday, May 25, 2009
I Want To Ride My Bicycle
But I can't because some scumbag stole it from in front of my house. I was absurdly attached to that stupid bike and I'm quite upset (think of the emotional climax of Di Sica's Bicycle Thief crossed with the flying bike bit in ET and you'll have some idea.) I got the bike in NYC in 1995, it was an old Peugeot 10 speed from the 70's - very heavy and clunky, but it was great and I loved it. I shipped it to Denver and then to Melbourne and replaced almost every part and now it's in the greasy paws of some druggie. I spent today scouring bike stores and thrift shops to no avail. Probably just as well because I've been walking around clenching and unclenching my fists for the last 10 hours. It's my third stolen bike. The first was at Bell's Shop in Carrickfergus in 1982, the second was in front of my house in Oxford in 1993. In that case it was actually locked up but the thieves, apparently, poured liquid nitrogen onto the D lock and then snapped it with a hammer. This time it wasn't locked but it was so old and scrappy looking I didn't think anyone would take it. I should warn the thief that every gear slips except 2 and 3 and the back brakes don't work. I should warn him but of course I can't, so here's hoping he breaks his bloody neck. . .Too much? Aye, ok, well here's hoping he at least snaps a tibia.