Cardiff - the home of stolen bikes
You’ll never guess. My bike’s been stolen. From inside the communal garage. Again. This is the fifth bike to have disappeared from my hands since I first arrived in Cardiff 32 months ago.
This last bike I bought (second-hand) after my last bike also disappeared from the locked garage. I’d put a new saddle, new brakes, and paniers for it.
Tonight, I went down to check it out and some thieving Goldie Looking Chain fan had obviously seen fit to spend time stepping into the communal garage, and methodically take out the back wheel and saddle. They’d have stolen the whole thing, I imagine, but the front wheel was locked to a pole.
Why?! What on earth is some thieving chav going to do with a saddle and a back wheel? Mono-cycle to their next fences market?
Plus, I presume they got into the communal garage because my stupid Alzheimer-ridden elderly neighbours forgot to close the garage door behind them after driving their Porsches and Mercedes to the local benefit office to draw their bloody pension.
My fourth bike also disappeared from the garage, but I hadn’t locked it to anything under the erroneous assumption that a closed and lockd garage door is protection enough. My third bike disappeared on New Years Eve.
My second bike disappeared from the communal hallway while I was on holiday. But I’d stupidly assumed that people would close the door behind them. My first Cardiff bike - woah, there’s a story in itself. Involving cheeky thieves, lamposts, a hacksaw, and the local pub.
Why, cardiff? Why? Doesn’t Cardiff have enough bad press for crime and thieving as it is? I’d be safer in sodding Brixton or Toxteth.
Originally published at almost witty. You can comment here or there.