rip bike

today when i got home from work, my bicycle was gone.

it was like being in a dream. when i had left, sleepily, around 8am, it had been there: chained around the thin tree outside my building, a kryptonite u lock holding it all together. it was the same place i had always kept it. neighbors warned me. bikers in the neighborhood told me i should get a better chain. naively, my thought always was: who would fuck with a giant pink bicycle?

sigh. apparently, there is some dipshit, soul less dickless jerk who would steal a giant pink bicycle. a heavy, rusted, lovely pink cruiser.

i did all the things i could. i called the cops. i called 311. i stared hopelessly out the window at the very spot it had been. i posted a desperate plea on craigslist. i twittered. i facebooked. i called a friend who is a former bike messenger/deep lover of bikes. i cried.

it’s been seven months since i last had to talk to a cop; this brings us to a total of three lost property/robbery reports in the last 13 months. this is the feeling that sucks the most: to have to be reminded that i’m just a citizen in the world, susceptible to theft, guns, muggings, and, although i have thus been spared–worse.

when i first got the bike last summer, i wrote a comic about it. here it is in its rough draft state. (you can click on the panels to view them larger in a new window. annoying but true.)

some things i learned today:

while the precinct might not pick up the phone, there may be a nice detective in the detective squad who will

it is illegal to chain your bikes to any sign posts or trees. garbage collectors have the right to clip it and chuck it if it’s in their way

get renter’s insurance. it will cover the loss of a bike

when you are very, very, very sad and angry, you can listen to loud music, and when the singer screams, you do not sing along. you scream along

i’ve been screaming along with kathleen hanna to le tigre’s on guard while composing this off the cuff post.

rip my giant pink schwinn. i loved you so much.

and balls to the fucker who took you. may they have urinary tract infections, herpes, traffic accidents, hernias, and no sex for the rest of their lives.

Published by universalchampion

writer/teacher/lover of milkshakes. queer social countess. rock camp for girls enthusiast. brooklynite + bicyclist.

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