“…leaving behind only a glass slipper”

That moment when you get to where you parked your bike, and you find not a coffee cup in your basket, or a bell or a seat missing, or a nasty note attached. No, you find just an empty pole.

You wonder at first, as one does, whether you forgot you parked it somewhere else. You hope. But it only takes a second for your mind to click into the proper memory, and when you go to take a closer look at the crime scene, still thinking that by the time you get there, you’ll spot your bike somewhere close-by, or you find some kind of clue to a practical joke, you notice all that’s left of your bike is a silk flower lying pathetically up-side-down on the ground, not nearly as pretty as it looked on the bike. Left there, just as if to confirm. A kind gesture from the thief to save you the trouble of wondering.

He must have been attracted by the dazzling sight of the brand new transmission. I didn’t even get a chance to admire it yet myself. Had a fun time getting a tune-up just earlier this week at MEC. They couldn’t get their information straight, and in the end I paid less than expected, and wasn’t really sure what got done and what didn’t. Waited a week for an appointment with a mechanic there.

When’s a less busy time I asked on the way out. Winter, he said. I’ll see you in winter! I would never get caught needing a tune-up between April and October again. But the trouble was worth it because this week my princess ran like a dream!

Now I don’t know where she is. What she is. Probably parts.  Ironically, last week, one morning I found I’d forgotten to lock her!

I blame myself, as one does, for not using more or better locks, for not taking my baby to the dark damp basement garage every night. I’m sure to hear about it – go on, get it off your chest, mom, you get ONCE!

Everyone loses a bike. It’s a city rite of passage. It’s the cost of riding. You can take measures to minimize the chances, but you can’t park underground everywhere you go.  Not until you move to Japan!  And every lock is breakable. If they want your bike they’ll have your bike.

bye-bye

So you must make them not want it! Every loose and pretty bit must be wired down, duct taped, or cosmetically vandalized. I had flowers everywhere, convinced that no person with any business sense would find it worth the effort to remove all the tape and wire, but i got sloppy. I should have taken the time to deface those shiny new cogs and chain.  I should have put spray paint on them, and on the wheels, and the seat stem, the seat, the chain, everything!

Whatever you do, you can think you’re doing everything right. No, no. You’ve just been lucky. It was my turn.

The girl and I, and her Supercycle seat with seams that collected water, that stained my pants for days after a rain, we had a good run.

So, celebrate that you find your bike where you left it, until you don’t. Then go and find a new one.

Bye-bye, pretty bike! I’ll miss you. I’ll miss how easily we went up every hill. I’ll miss the way you made old ladies smile. Maybe someone else gets to love you now. Forget about your evil middle man. Girl, you have some stories to tell!