Dag! I knew this day would come. Sometimes when I get home I put my bike in the yard while I go in the house. I always say I'm going to go straight to the basement and unbar the door, but the phone rings, or I put the groceries away, or whatever...and I forget the bike.
I've left it outside overnight three times since I moved. Every time I thought it was a miracle it was still there, but every time it was still there it got me a little lazier, a little less vigilant, a little more trusting....
Wham! I was doing yoga with my buddy now from up the street Friday around 8, when my neighbor next door (the first floor people with the two year old) rang the bell. "They got your bike! They're in the alley!" I didn't even have my keys on me. I ran back but they were gone. So I ran in the house to get my keys and Dawn (my buddy's name for here) wanted to go get on bikes and go look for them.
"People get shot over bikes down here," I said, but there was no stopping her. So we ran. I used her parents' cell phone to call 911, and then we jumped on a couple of their bikes and took off.
All we knew from the neighbors was that two young-ish African American men had jumped the back fence to get the bike.
"Should we ask Mexicans or black people? Or, that's racist, right?" Dawn asked me. I said we should tell everybody two guys took our bike and describe the bike in detail, since we didn't have enough to give a real description of the guys anyway. As it turned out, we didn't ask anyone, we just rode around east of Ashland (the direction the neighbors said they were going). No luck.
This morning I went to the station in Bridgeport to file a police report. At least the officer was nice. So now I'll be in the crime report at the next CAPS meeting. Yahoo...not.
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