I was out of town on 24 October when my room-mate messaged me that our house had been broken into and that my bike had been stolen – the criminal had grabbed the first valuable thing he happened to see before my room-mate came downstairs to investigate the bang produced by the front door been kicked in.
I was shocked, furious and sad.
I haven’t had any of my belongings stolen till that day; plus, I couldn’t believe that somebody could take into possession something that didn’t belong to them. I was furious because I couldn’t have done anything to protect my bike and wasn’t in any way able to punish the criminal, perhaps a desperate person I don’t know. I was sad because I thought I’d never see my bike again; the good old second-hand mountain bike that took me to work, to university, to my girlfriend’s house, to all the beautiful places in Leeds where I go to chill or exercise. I felt like I had lost a close trusted friend.
After all, it was me who took care of it, it was me who kept it rolling, and showed it love whenever it broke down. The bike carried my body and my energy as well. Now when it’s gone I feel like someone else is in contact with my energy by using the bike and I don’t think they deserve to be in contact with it.
The reason I’m writing about my stolen bike is because I have been confronted with a dilemma and I need your advice, dear readers. Shall I nurture the grain of hope that I will one day witness my bike again, for example offered for sale again in a second-hand bike shop, or being ridden by a stranger on the street. Or shall I let it all go, buy a new bike and move on. What do you think? I’m more inclined to do the latter.