Theft sucks
Back in March, I had a great opportunity to buy a mountain bike at REI. f_4_t's preferred mode of cycling is that involving lots of whoopdy-dos and dirt. And since for the first few months of our relationship, she'd been a sport and kept up with me on her mountain bike while we were on the Greenway or road-riding, I figured I'd give true off-road riding a shot.
It came that my REI dividend, the member discount and a great price combined to get me a K2 for cheap. We hadn't taken the bikes out a lot, but some and I was really liking mtn. biking, looking forward to getting down to Harris Lake for rides. A friend was telling us about a great trail up near Roxboro that sounded nice.
Unfortunately, I currently can't pursue those rides since we noticed last Thursday that we'd had a break-in either the previous night or early in the morning. Seems someone saw fit to break into the storage shed attached to the house and purloin my bike.
We called the police and they were there in minutes, walking through our less than spotless living room, asking who the animal lover is.
"Uh, we both are," I reply.
The two officers, one uniformed, another in a polo shirt and jeans with badge on lanyard, interviewed me on the back deck.
Yes, I'd touched the door knob.
No, I really can't say for sure when the bike was stolen.
Yes, it could have been anytime after Sunday, when we last went for a ride.
These details and more went into a notebook. The officers said they'd keep an eye out. I described some odd activity and call me if they turned up anything about the bike. I don't know if they were just trying to make me feel better, but I said something along the lines of, "I'm not seriously expecting to see the bike again."
I suppose my thinking is reminded by The Big Lebowski and no, I shouldn't expect the police to work in shifts.
But then, Saturday, something unexpected happened.
A Raleigh sergeant detective called and asked for more description of the bike. Turns out, they think they saw a guy riding the bike over on Atlantic Ave, a big block west of our place, looking into cars Wednesday evening.
"I tried looking under K2, Zed...," he told me, explaining that they'd tried to find some record of this bike being stolen when they stopped the guy.
"I think I can get your bike back," he said, explaining they had a description, a name and an address.
Nothing came of it over the weekend, but I was told it might be a few days. Still, I'm not feeling like it's a complete last cause. I'm not expecting it back, but I'm gratified that there seems to be some effort to catch a petty crook.
The hardest part is keeping an eye on things around the house, paying attention to how the dog is barking. We're checking more on what happens outside, wondering if someone else wandering through is going to get a bright idea. Several of our neighbors have been in contact with the cops, too, recently and they're certainly aware of the neighborhood. I'll feel a little better, though, if there's an arrest.
We should drop flyers off at the pawn shops. We dropped in on a second-hand store and described the bike. We could probably spend more time going around and checking those, or time checking Dumpters in the immediate area. It partly feels worth it, partly not. I keep hoping the SPD pedals on the bike come up and whack the shins of the guy who stole the bike. That makes me feel a bit better.