The law of love
By Scott T.
I have had a bike stolen. Not today. Don’t feel too bad for me. I’m over it.
But, not really. I recently had a chance to relive my Yellow Schwinn being stolen from the front of the store.
It was stolen because someone didn’t bring it in after we closed. Still, stolen is stolen, even if you don’t lock it. I looked around everywhere for that stupid bike that wasn’t even worth 30 bucks. It was heartbreak.
Then I found it… It was parked at chipotle and locked up. So, I left the new “owner” a note stating that if they wanted, they could keep their lock and if they didn’t, I would just cut it off for them. And also that my bike is my bike, not their bike. MY BIKE!
After some time, the police came got the bike and gave it back to me.
And I thought I was happy. But, the truth is that I haven’t ridden the bike since I got it back. It is sitting in the basement of the store. And I can tell the bike is sad. I used to ride wheelies for blocks with it. I used to make coffee runs with it. It was my dear friend. And now that someone else took it home and rode it (sorry for the imagery in your head), I don’t feel the same about it anymore. I feel that it isn’t my bike anymore.
Where I am right now, I don’t know that I can give it away either. I feel like the Karma needs to be washed or some sort of seance needs to be performed to remove the devil from inside the bike. I haven’t really even sat with the bike since I picked it up from the police station. What to do. What to do.
Recovered bicycles can never be loved the same way. I think someone may have to intervene.