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Posts Tagged ‘ripshit’

Again.

Remember this?

This time they took BOTH bikes. From inside a locked garage, wheels in U-locks, chained and locked to a pillar, and under a sheet to boot, just so nobody would glance through the garage bars and see a tempting target.

I fucking give up.

lessons from the stolen bike

No, I don’t have my bike back. I don’t expect I ever will; if it shows up one day, it will be by a coincidence of police work and sheer random chance, and I’ll probably donate the thing to some charity. But I have a new bike now, which means that I’ve had a fresh reminder of how some asshole came in and stole the old one, but at least I don’t have to be pissed off every time I think of an errand to run and then remember I have no way to run it.

I want to talk about what I learned from this. But it’s not going to be a list of “I should have done X, Y, or Z,” because you know what? Fuck that noise. It smacks of “it’s my fault my bike got stolen,” because all the precautions I took were not enough precautions, or the right precautions. Or maybe I shouldn’t have owned a piece of easily stealable transport in the first place. Frankly, that kind of logic can bite me.

What I want to talk about is the stuff others may not know, the stuff that made my investigating officer call me “the perfect victim.” Not in the sense of being somebody crime was bound to happen to, but rather the kind of person a cop hopes to deal with, and rarely does.

In other words, if crime happens to you, then here are some things you might want to bear in mind.

Cut for length.

FUCK.

You would think that if you kept your bike chained to a post inside a locked garage beneath your townhouse complex, it would be well-enough secured that you don’t have to worry about it being stolen.

You’d be wrong.