tragedy on the home front

When I got home Monday night, there was a stranger lurking in the yard.

A strange bike, that is. Red (like mine) propped up against my boyfriend’s bike in the corner where we always leave our rides. You might think I’m crazy, but one of the first things that ran through my head was: Josh is cheating on me! Who is this sleek red newcomer!? (Yeah, I know, crazy.)

Then I came to my senses and realized it was too big to be a girl’s bike. Phew. Anyway, the bike wasn’t locked; I moved it out of the way so that I could get the chain that went around the fence and Josh’s bike around mine as well. When I was done I moved the stranger back against ours: three bikes in a row.

Sure I felt weird leaving an unlocked bike out in the yard overnight, but what was I to do? I obviously didn’t want to do something that would prevent someone from having their ride home that night.

Ok. So far so good.

In the morning, I looked out my bedroom window and saw a note taped to my bike. Uh oh. I went downstairs. This is what I saw:


Oh, Brice. I am so sorry. I did not in kindness bring your bike inside.

I did call him, and kind of gushed out apologies and sympathy, even launching into the story of how I once had a bike stolen from this very yard. He took it pretty well, I think.

But mysteries remain. Who is this Brice? Was he visiting someone in our building? What kind of idiot doesn’t lock up his bike in New York City for chrissake? And, (and!!!!) does someone come into our yard every night and check if our bikes are locked or not, waiting for an opportunity to strike?

I mean, of course if you leave your bike on the street unlocked it will be taken, but in a yard? In just a few hours? Who took it and how did they know? This is not going to help my total theft paranoia.


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Filed under bikes, Brooklyn

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