Obsessing About My Stolen Bike

After sending a warning message to the Velo Girls about bicycle theft, I received several kind emails. One of them was from Katy:

"I read a poem by Rumi yesterday that dealt with a priest who prayed more for the villains than the saints. He did it beccause the villains reminded him of what he wasn't, and he was grateful to them for that. Food for thought."

That made me pause and think. It would be easier for me to find forgiveness in my heart if the bicycle thief really, truly, needed my bicycle. More likely than not, the punk who kidnapped my Giant TCR-1 Composite did so for a quick buck. In which case, I condemn that jackass, that pimple on the ass of humanity, to eternal hellfire and damnation. I'm thinking something along the lines of being flayed alive.

Another lady, Shari, emailed to say that she would be heartbroken if the same thing happened to her. What an appropriate word. That's exactly how I feel. Heartbroken. Much as I adore my New Beetle, I just love my bike, and am devastated that it was unjustly wrenched away from me. I would almost have preferred to have had my car stolen instead (without my bike inside). For starters, my car is insured. After this incident, I made a call to State Farm to get renters insurance. Be sure you do the same in case this happens to you!

I drove my car to Safelite AutoGlass to get the rear window replaced. The repair shop is close to my home, which is convenient. Too convenient. It's located there to be close to their customers (most likely), meaning that I live in a crappy ass neighborhood where lots of people get their cars vandalized.

Every cloud as a silver lining, they say. But right now, all I can see through the downpour of rain are lightning bolts shooting from the sky. The most ironic thing is that I can't use the only that wasn't stolen with my bike because they were at home -- my clipless pedals.