Looks like we are on a campus of thieves.
I can name at least five people who have had their bikes stolen on campus in the past two months, including me.
It’d be one thing if I left my bike outside somewhere with no lock, free for anyone to take. That’s like leaving your car unlocked in a parking lot with the keys in it.
But my bike was locked with a code only I know.
My best friend’s bike was also taken from the Campus Habitat apartment building’s bike rack and hasn’t been seen again, along with my roommate’s boyfriend, who thankfully found his a couple weeks later and retrieved it. Not to mention, that same roommate also had two of her bikes stolen.
Maybe we are just popular victims to have our bikes stolen, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence.
Thankfully, I have a car to drive to campus from my apartment building, but what if I didn’t?
Stealing a bike is stealing someone’s transportation.
My bike also meant more to me than some metal with wheels. I’ve had that bike for years, and it has never failed me.
I brought it up to school three weeks prior to it being stolen, and riding it was something I really enjoyed.
We had a lot of good times riding into the sunset while the wind blew my hair and the breaks screeched every time I had to stop. It was my stress reliever, my go-to activity to conquer laziness and, basically, my friend.
Have you ever had a pet that you talk to, even though you know it can’t talk back? That was my bike.
And now it’s gone.
I don’t know how people can feel comfortable taking something that isn’t theirs.
After being on the search for my “green monster” all semester, I have yet to find it.
But when I do find it, I have a drill, and my best friend/stolen bike victim is ready for it.
I will text two words to her: “Bolt cutters.”