On Stolen Bikes and How Awesome People Respond

Since my bike’s been stolen, I’ve been spending a lot of time moping.

When I'm sad, I cuddle with a rat.

When I’m sad, I cuddle with a rat.

It’s okay, I have permission to do so. In fact, my project manager (who also happens to be Sue) instructed me to do so. It’s true. She wrote it on the weekly blue sticky note of tasks. “Time to mourn and regroup.”

But I need to bounce back. I’m doing a ride next year for Be the Match, for heaven’s sake. These setbacks cannot get in the way!

I went to my parents’ house and rustled around in the garage to find any bikes that might be lurking in there. I found an old Novara that needs some work, and I figured that it’d be great to put some of my newly learned bike maintenance skills to work. So I tossed it into the back of my car. When I got home my neighbor brought out a bike that’s been hanging around his backyard for twenty years. Underneath all the dust you can see that it’s a Peugeot. He said I can fix it up and then decide if I’d like to buy it from him. So I’m thankful for these distractions. I started to think that I could be one of those people with a garage full of old bikes, none of them fancy or expensive, but each with its own personality, its own story, and some of my own handiwork. I like that idea. Today I put a couple hours into the Novara and hope to be riding it tomorrow.

But of course I still want my Surly back. Continue reading