Some asshole stole my fucking bike.
Now, in Toronto, this is not such an uncommon thing; most people have a few bikes stolen in their cycling careers. The thing that makes this different? They stole it from INSIDE MY GARAGE, in a suburban neighbourhood with quite a quiet street.
The garage is a double, but with two separate doors, of which only one was open. In front of the garage are two minivans, parked a bit close to together (can’t ride down between them). The bike was at the back of the garage wedged in behind a stack of chairs with additional stuff piled on. There is lots of other stuff in the garage which was not touched.
Just my bike.
I accidentally left the garage open after coming home from gardening today; I opened it to put stuff in, then had to take some stuff around to the front door and went inside the house that way, forgetting to close the garage – I’m usually very very good about closing it (as in, I can’t remember ever forgetting). I remembered and closed the garage door a few hours later without noticing anything. As I was tidying up to get ready for bed, I opened the door to the garage (from inside the house) to check it, and looked down the stairs to think…huh. Something’s wrong here. Went down and looked around….my bike was gone. Nothing else.
It wasn’t a very expensive or fancy bike, but I really liked it. And it was barely used, really – I got it last summer.
At least I got a good 30k ride out of it on Friday.
Fuck. I don’t get people.
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