Yesterday while we were at work my bike was stolen. I think my heart sprung a leak and I cried when we found out because the bike was very special to me and a gift on top of it.

It was the bike-equivalent of me. It didn't look very slick and it wasn't up to current trends but it had a certain charm to it. It didn't work quite right but it made a passable showing and beside that, it wasn't very clear what could have been done to fix it. If fixing it was even possible. Other people admired the bike for it's quirky traits though on second thought they probably wouldn't have wanted it for themselves. Instead preferring something shinier with all the right features.

That is excepting it's thief who probably wouldn't have soul enough to be able to distinguish this bike from any other material object of some monetary worth. My poor bike will probably now go on to be used as an acomplice in petty theft until it is abandoned somewhere and left to die.

I came back from miniature golf last night half-expecting to see it back in it's spot but no.

27 July 2005 - 11:13 AM

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