I am one of those people.
I walked out the door and noticed something was off. I went back inside and shut the door hoping that everything would ‘reset,’ then went back outside a second time…Gone.
Every time I locked my bike up, I thought about the possibility that my bike would be stolen. I was often warned by various people about the thieves and punks that vandalize or steal bikes. Everyday my bike wasn’t stolen, I felt more confident that it would stick around. For the first month I had it, I carried it up the 60 degree steep steep dutch staircases and sleep with it beside me.
Last night, I got back to the house at about 4:30 am. Some French girls I met before I left for Rotterdam invited me out to a club that happened to be underneath the pillar of the Willemsbrug, the big red bridge that I crossed 200 or more times in August never knowing a club existed. It was one of those stereotypical european basement warehouse parties–pretty cool.
So between 4:30 and daylight, someone got to work on stealing my bike.
Those pedals, wheels, and chain were probably the most important tools I had in the Netherlands. Terrible news to have it taken. But, as my wonderful mother told me back home before I left, ‘you’re going to have a lot of ‘inconveniences’ this year just try to look past then and remember the power of positive thinking.’
Here are the positives:
1. I don’t have to find anybody to sell the bike to before I leave.
2. Found something to add to list for pent-up aggression for the Rugby game this weekend.
3. The guy who stole my bike most likely drifted off the road and into a canal where he got eaten by a giant squid. Sucker.
Picked up a box of oreos. Going to eat the pain away.
Enjoy your new life, mr. bike. Thanks for the service.
Here’s a poem I wrote about him:
Goodbye rockin’ Dutch bike.
I rode you across many a dike.
You and I traveled at great speeds.
You surely were a mighty steed.
But last night some jerk stole you.