Friday, July 18, 2008

An Open Letter To Whomever Stole My Bike

Dear sir (or madame),

You have cut me to the quick; you have harmed me badly; you have struck me where it hurts most in this time of high gas prices: you have taken my only form of transportation to and from work.

Not only have I, a lowly college graduate with a pitifully useless degree in philosophy, been deprived by your actions of my only mode of transport, but I have been brought lower than what I thought was the lowest social level I could possibly sink to.

You see, previously, I drove a 2004 Honda Civic to work. Small, economical, fuel efficient, and a nice stereo. However, tragedy struck and my car was totalled. After that, I elected to ride my wife's bicycle to work rather than take on new debt. That's right; my WIFE's bike. I didn't even have my own; that's humiliating.

However, I proudly rode that girl's bicycle to work, day after day. Okay, not proudly. I was badly ashamed, but I rode with outward pride - my chin stuck out farther than Jay Leno's and higher than someone from New England meeting a Texan. I looked proud in the face of humiliation.

But this morning, upon realizing that my humiliating bicycle had been stolen by you out of MY garage, I went a step lower. I was forced to walk to work. Walk. Like a common BARBARIAN! Like a New Yorker! And while I was walking to work, I knew that you were out there somewhere, feeling guilty but also enjoying the wind in your hair, and a light burning in your legs from the effort of riding.

(A sidenote: you should be careful with fourth gear. It doesn't work at all. You really just have to skip from third to fifth gear, because it's a little touchy. And I just aired up the tires last night, so you should be good for awhile on that end of things.)

So there you were, riding freely, hair waving like Fabio (or possibly like someone with short hair) while I walked like a troglodytic neanderthal.

So what should I do about this situation? Well, I have a plan. And it's been hatching in my little mind since about five minutes ago when I realized this blog post would need an adequate conclusion: I can choose to forgive you for stealing my bike (unless Josh Walker's understanding of biblical forgiveness is correct, in which case I don't have to) or I can activate the Lojack I just happened to have installed three days before you decided to nick my ride.

I could also decide to call upon the outraged citizens of McPherson, KS to rise up and look for my bicycle in the form of an angry posse. If you have seen it, it is a purple and silver girl's bike with a bright orange bicycle chain on it. If you see it, call me, and we can form an alliance to set things right.

And by the way, sir (or madame): I am offering a reward of $5.00 to anyone who catches you. And so, in appropriate form, I end with a perfect (slightly modified) quote from Mel Gibson's wonderful film Ransom:

This is your ransom. [Five] dollars in unmarked bills, just like you wanted. But this is as close as you'll ever get to it. You'll never see one dollar of this money, because no ransom will ever be paid for my [bike]. Not one dime, not one penny. Instead, I'm offering this money as a reward on your head. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter. So congratulations, you've just become a [five] dollar lottery ticket... except the odds are much, much better. Do you know anyone that wouldn't turn you in for [five] dollars? I don't think you do. I doubt it. So wherever you go and whatever you do, this money will be tracking you down for all time... But... and this is your last chance... you return my [bike], alive, uninjured, I'll withdraw the bounty. With any luck you can simply disappear. Understand... you will never see this money. Not one dollar. So you still have a chance to do the right thing. If you don't, well, then, God be with you, because nobody else on this Earth will be.

"Give me back my bike!"

[Just in case anyone thinks this is a joke, well... everything I just wrote above is true. My bike really was stolen this morning, and I am FUMING!]

Silver Lining:

Check out the AWESOME shirt my wife had made for me! My bike may have been stolen while I slept, but the thieves will have to RIP this one from my body as I sleep!

I'm smoking an American Spirit, and drinking Stella Artois.


  1. Brother,
    I have to tell you, quite honestly, that I don't know who stole your bike. But if I did, I'd hunt him down and make him read this. He would laugh till he cried, much like I did, and then he would probably keep the bike because I am not really that threatening and neither are your words. They're funny but, let's be honest, you don't really smoke that cigarette like a mad man who'd like to rip a bike-theif limb from limb. You're right though, he'd feel a twinge of guilt but it wouldn't go much further beyond that because he probably felt that guilt and was able to get past it once he stepped into your garage.

    But, perhaps your downstairs neighbor took it for the day. I've met him, a pleasant sort of gentleman. Probably. Peddling around McPherson and ignorant to your anger.
    Have another Stella, this pain will probably linger for a while.

  2. Hilarious! :) I do hope you get your bike back. Drink the beer... lose the smoke. ;)

  3. It's usually a Djarum clove (Kretek) cigarette, but I was trying to branch out and give the all natural no-additive American Spirits a try. I probably won't stick with them, because they dry my throat out, and I don't like that.

  4. I stole your bike Adam. And then I took it apart and threw all the parts into a furnace and laughed maniacally. Cause I refuse to ride a girl's bike. And also because I love the smell of molten metal.


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