The Bicycle Thief

My bicycle was stolen on Sunday evening. Its not a super-awesome bike or anything, but dammit, its mine! Covered in white-and-pink flowers, with a basket, chrome fenders, and a big, squishy white leather seat. I mean, come on! What punk criminal wants a bike like that?! And of course, when we go in to report the theft, the RI cops could only say, "Well, are you sure you didn't just put it somewhere else?"

Fortunately, my darling husband and his eagle eyes spotted the missing velo this morning, chained to an old beater in the alley between some apartment buildings. The ever-vigilant Roosevelt Island Public Safety officers (who bear much more resemblance to Paul Blart, Mall Cop than to anything like the NYPD) showed up and sliced the lock, freeing my pretty peddler in time for me to ride to work. Yay for being reunited with my 40-pound beach cruiser! Think I'll rent The Bicycle Thief in celebration...