Two days ago I locked my bike on queen street and crossed the street to go into a shop. Five minutes later, paying for my merchandise, I noticed my keys missing. I turned my pockets and bags inside out, searched the shop, retraced my steps to my bike, looked under and in things, popped into a couple of neighbouring stores. Clearly I dropped my keys and someone picked them up!

Reluctantly, I abandoned my bike and walked to work.

No-one had called to report the keys found. How would they know to do this, you ask? My work key card was attached to my set of keys in a luggage tag. my full name and place of work printed on it. At my desk I first spent half an hour googling this information to see whether my home address could be found this way. If you typed in your website in whois.com it used to display your billing address. Thank gawd they don’t do that for a dot-ca.

Suddenly I wondered if I may have been pick-pocketed by someone who had his eye on my bike, while watching me lock it! so I called the girl at the shop – ok, the Condom Shack! – and asked her to look out the window to see if my bike was still there.

Sorry to bother you, I’m the one who lost her keys, do you have a moment? … No, across the street – the one with the two baskets and the flowers, you see it?

It was still there.

After work, reasonably assured I wouldn’t be robbed or raped in my own bed tonight, I walked to Canadian Tire and bought a door chain anyways, but decided against spending 300 dollars (my guess) to hire a locksmith to rekey my fancy lock. Then I walked home. It was strange to be locked out of my own home, out of my life actually. But I kept thinking, at least it’s not my wallet I lost!

My mother (my neighbour) let me into the building and into my apartment. I borrowed her copy of my key. I installed the chain on the door in already existing holes in the frame. Then I looked through my box of spare keys. I found a key to the extra bike lock I carry on my luggage rack, but not to the one currently holding my bicycle hostage on Queen Street.

The next morning I called the girl at the Condom Shack. Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you again, I’m the one who lost her keys. do you have a moment?

My bike had survived the night. and the shop girl (a different girl) was a very good sport about it. I won’t let anyone near it, she said!

How sweet!

Then I emailed my neighbour, a real experienced bike guy, who might have some bolt cutters. bolt cutters won’t do it, said experienced bike guy. He convinced me to leave it in his hands, he would go there with tools and bring my baby home safe. no offence to R, but out of all my acquaintances, he most looks the part of a bike thief – youthful, wiry, mysterious, black toque. …I don’t know. what’s a bike thief look like? But I was worried about him, and wanted to be there, but he would be on foot, and wanted to ride home after bailing me out. He assured me he could handle it. Why not send him an email to refer anyone to who wished to challenge a man cutting the lock off a lady’s bike in broad daylight, if I wished.

You’ve seen my bike, right?, I said.

I called the girl at the condom shack. It was the first girl again who answered, the one who originally helped me with my purchase. Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, I’m the one who lost her keys. Yes, haha, do you have a moment? I’m having someone come and cut my bike loose. It’s going to look an awful lot like he’s stealing it! …so, I was wondering, if you could just, if need be, vouch for him?

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So, I wasn’t there, but here’s how it went down as I understand it from R’s account. R starts to hack away at my lock, and out of the restaurant behind him come two lovely waiters in their white shirts and black vests to challenge tough guy R who seems to be stealing bike. Condom girl sees this and rushes out to say it’s ok, the owner lost her keys! At this point the waiters start to share their experiences of lost keys and locked bikes, and give R advice.

This whole time R is working away with clearly inadequate tools. you’re the worst bike thief I’ve ever seen, says shop girl! Wonder how many bike thieves she knows.

Thus, what was dangerously starting to look like an abandoned bike, spent another night in exile.

This morning R and I set out together to finish the job. He borrowed another neighbour’s van. aside from the money I’m spending to replace all these keys and locks, I’m calling in an awful lot of favours! Let’s think of this as an adventure, said R. I can’t believe I can’t find that key! Don’t worry, it’ll turn up, he said, once we cut the lock.

He stopped the van across the street from my bike, told me to stay with the illegally parked vehicle, and left the engine running. I got out to take some photos. as worried as I was about R getting arrested, I’m even more worried, though not surprised, at the mix of people just walking by, or looking, or deliberately not looking. one woman stopped and got into a conversation with him. I didn’t hear them but it could have easily gone something like this: It’s ok, the woman standing there by the get-away van, yes, the one giving you the thumbs up, she lost her keys.

Thank you!, I mouthed. somewhat assured, the feisty woman moved on.

10 minutes later, the lock was off, I hugged R, and I went straight to MEC for a new lock. then to work.

Total projected cost of this adventure:

bike lock – $30
door chain – $15
various keys copied – $20
work key card – $20
building key – $50
future lunch with R – priceless!

What an experience! I had a chance to ponder the potentially high price of reckless convenience, by inadvertently giving a stranger an invitation, a door pass and directions to my place of residence. I spent some quality time with R. I have new interesting photographs. I walked so much my shin muscles are sore. And I now own a brand new magnum cable lock. It comes with four spare keys! I’m going to keep them each in a different place.