When Is A Bicycle "Irrelevant"?

I was intrigued by the headline:  Woman Flees Police On Irrelevant Bicycle.

It got me to wondering:  What, exactly, is an irrelevant bicycle?  Is it one that can't be ridden anymore?  Or is "Irrelevant" a brand?  (Now that would be terrible marketing!)

Turns out, said velocipede matched the description of one that was stolen in Hilo, Hawaii.  That is why cops pursued its rider--29-year-old Maria Duquette.  I probably would have believed, as they did, that she stole the bike, which she used to lead the gendarmes in a wild chase through Hilo Town to the Hilo Bay Front.  There, she ditched the wheels and jumped into the water.  

She swam, and cops lost sight of her.  A helicopter and boat search didn't yield any sign of her.  Later, though, someone saw her on Coconut Island.  She tried, again, to swim away, but officers pursued her into the ocean and took her into custody.  She was charged with traffic violations related to the chase and disobeying an officer's direction.

So they got their perp.  But, as it turned out, the bicycle wasn't the one that was reported stolen.  I guess that's what the headline writer meant by "irrelevant"--to the investigation.

As some of you might know, newspaper headlines are almost never written by the person who wrote the article.  I am sure that such was the case for the story and title I've linked.  I feel sorry for whoever wrote the article:  When I wrote for a newspaper, a few of my articles bore titles (not written by me, of course!) that were silly or even irrelevant.

We Love Our Bikes--But Not The Way She Loves Hers

If you read this blog regularly, you probably "love" your bicycle(s).

I use the word "love" in quotations because, although most of us would say that our bikes make our lives better in any number of ways, what we mean by "love" can be very different.  

For me, my bicycles have meant that I can commute without having to deal with traffic jams, crowded subway or bus stations and the costs of gasoline, tolls and parking, among other things.  My bikes have also given me many hours of pleasure, whether I've pedaled the back streets of the Bronx or Belleville, a path through Cambodian rice fields or jungles or a seaside ramble. Oh, and I've even moved my possessions from one apartment to another on my bike.

In short, I have a difficult time imagining my life without bikes or bicycling.  Others could say the same thing, though for very different reasons.  

Esther Deaver is one such person.  Known as "The Bicycle Lady" to residents of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, she not only depends on her bike; she lives on or with (depending on your point of view) it.  She doesn't own much else in this world, and most of her meals consist of what she finds or  local residents and merchants give her. 

As you have probably realized, she lives on the streets.  There are a number of stories about how she got there, but the most verifiable accounts say that she went to Winston-Salem with a church group and lost touch with her family.  Not surprisingly, mental health issues seem to have played a role.

She has never tried to harm anyone, and attempts to place her in institutions have been unsuccessful.  So some people keep an eye out for her and try to help her in whatever ways they can.

Other people, though, are not so benevolent.  One took her bike recently.  An anonymous benefactor left her a new one.  The gift has everything she likes except for a banana seat and sissy bar.  But the owner of a local bike shop says he can remedy that for her.

Even with that anonymous gift, she still feels sad about losing her old bike.  It may have been the sort of machine at which many of us would have turned up our noses.  But she loved that bike in ways most of us could never understand.

If You Need A Wheel....

Yesterday's post got me to thinking about my own experiences with bike theft.

I have lost a few bikes, and even more parts, to thieves.  As for the latter:  Saddles (including a Brooks), pedals and wheels have disappeared while my bikes were parked on the street.

So what do you do if someone takes your front wheel?

How Safely Is Your Bike Parked?

What's the difference between true love and an STD?

Only one of them is forever!

Not many things in life are "forever". (On a purely semantic level, nothing is, because, well, none of us is forever!) One thing that that doesn't last for eternity is security, at least the kind provided by bike locks.  Sooner or later, someone figures out how to pick, break or hack even the best security device.

That is what happened with the Ottolock.  Given that it's a light, flexible band, I am not surprised.  I imagine that there isn't much consternation among Ottolock's creators, either:  The Portland (where else?) company acknowledges that it's not a primary theft deterrent.  It should be used only for short durations in low-theft areas, or in conjunction with a stronger U-lock, according to company representatives.

Still, I can see the egg on their faces when "Lock Picking Lawyer" posted this video showing how easily he cut the band:

If He Flies, It Won't Be A High For Him

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, in the mid-1970s, I eagerly awaited my monthly copy of Bicycling! magazine.  Among the reviews and ads for bikes and equipment I couldn't afford, there was John Rakowski's serialized account of his ride around the world.

To this day, it's one of the most impressive feats I've ever read or heard about. Riding a bicycle around the world!    Over three years, he pedaled through every continent except Antarctica.  

It's such an impressive feat that I simply could not, imagine doing it more than once--until yesterday.  While surfing the web over supper (not a "best practice," I know!) I came across a story about Armando Basile, who hails from Germany.  

He's completed six velocipedic circumnavigations of the globe.  Yes, six.  And he was on his seventh such sojourn (Yes, I plagiarized the Moody Blues!) in Crescent City, California, the other day when the only thing that could have stopped him happened.

Surveillance video reportedly shows suspect with Basile's bike.

His Tout Terrain bicycle was stolen.  He called the Crescent City Police Department to say that his mount was taken at the Chevron South on Highway 101 at Elk Valley Road.

"The way it looks, the tour is finished," Basile posted to his Facebook page.  That is, unless someone calls 707-464-2133 with information that could lead to the wheels' whereabouts.

Otherwise, he'll be going from San Francisco to Frankfurt tomorrow--on a plane.  I don't think the best in-flight amenities could make him feel good under such circumstances!

  

A Lock--And A Blockchain?

Until a few days ago, I thought a blockchain had something to do with construction machinery or power tools.  Turns out, it's very high tech. In fact, it is a core component of the Bitcoin.

As I understand it, the "block" is a growing list of digital records linked by using cryptography.  Each block contains a cryptographic hash of the previous block, a timestamp and transaction data.  By its design, the cryptographic hash is a one-way function, meaning that it is impossible to invert, i.e., alter.  

Each of the blocks is linked using cryptography.  The blocks can originate from any number of sources and can be transmitted to others.  As an example, a block can be sent from the owner of an object to the police and an insurance company.

You can see where this is going, right?

IBM is working on a system that will allow a bike's owner to register his or her machine via an app.  That information would also be stored on a "smart" lock that would provide the location of the bike when it's parked--and allow transmission of that data to the concerned parties (owner, police and insurer) if the bike is stolen.

Currently, reporting a stolen bike is a cumbersome process in the US and Europe, as Louis de Bruin explains.  "Many interactions are required to exchange information that all these parties do not have at hand," said the IBM Blockchain Lead for Europe.  The blockchain "simplifies the process," he said, because "all information about the stolen bicycle and owner are recorded on the blockchain and available for all parties to access at the right moment."

That IBM is trying this system first in the Netherlands, via IBM Benelux, is not surprising.  After all, there are more bicycles than people in the low-lying nation, and theft is a problem, particularly in Amsterdam.  But IBM sees the potential, not only for individual bike owners, but for owners of rental or bike-share fleets.  In some cities, such as Rome, bike-share programs were halted because of theft and vandalism.

Of course, such a system could also be used to aid in recovering other stolen items, and in detecting counterfeit items.  But it's fascinating to see that, if such a system works, cyclists might be its early adopters.

Together, They Are Better Than Nothing

In October, Anchorage (Alaska) Assembly member Christopher Constant introduced an ordinance that would have required the city's bicycle owners to register their bikes on a free online database, or face fines.  

I've never been to Alaska, so perhaps my perception of its people is a stereotype:  If nothing else, they are rugged individualists.  Somehow I don't think people end up there by following the crowd.

Whatever the truth about them may be, the citizens of The Last Frontier's largest city lived up to my perception when their outcry over the fines forced Constant to withdraw his proposal.

While bike registration isn't a deterrent against theft and certainly doesn't guarantee that a stolen bike will be reunited with its owner, it does make it easier to get the bike back to whoever bought, rides and loves it.  And registering the bike, and keeping a record of the bike's serial number in your own records will make it easier to prove that a bike is yours--especially if it's a common model--if it is recovered.

All of that, of course, assumes that the serial number is still on the bike.  As often as not, if the bike ends up in a "chop shop", the serial number is removed.  The same thing often happens to other stolen items that are re-sold. In Alaska, those items include propane tanks.

Constant--the same assembly member who introduced the failed bike-registration mandate--has just introduced another law that would make it a misdemeanor to remove a serial number from a bicycle or any other merchandise.  It passed unanimously on Tuesday night.

I concur with Austin Quinn-Davidson, another Anchorage Assembly member, who said that this measure won't, by itself, do much to combat theft.  She believes thieves will simply find ways to do their work without tampering with serial numbers.  While the new law is a "first step," the city needs to "come in and get registration up," she said.

She is right, but even the combination of registration and a ban on removing serial numbers will only put a dent in the city's bicycle theft epidemic, just as similar measures in other places would help, if only somewhat.

Citibikes Are Nice, But We Need More Bike Racks

In New York City, my hometown, 460,000 daily trips were made by bicycle.  That is up from 270,000 trips in 2011--a 70 percent increase.

Some of that, of course, has to do with the Citibike share program, which launched in 2013.  The operative word here is "some":  Many more cyclists are riding to work on their own bicycles.

During the past four fiscal years, the city has set up an average of 1633 new racks.  Now, what do you think the average was during the previous four years?

2808.  In other words, 42 percent fewer racks have been installed during the past four years, which have fallen squarely in Bill de Blasio's administration, than in the previous four, which were mainly under Mike Bloomberg's administration.

What that means is that the city lacks "essential infrastructure" needed if bicycling is truly to become a transportation option, according to Bike New York spokesman Jon Orcutt.  "Everybody's talking about Citibikes and scooters, but it's the humble rack that needs more attention," added Orcutt, who served as the city's Department of Transportation policy director under Bloomberg.

Citibikes are fine for commuting if there's a bike port near your home and another near your workplace--that is, if there are available bikes when you leave for work and if there's an available space in the dock when you get to your job.  

You can ride your own bike, but there might not be a dedicated bike rack or other safe facility at your destination. Or, if there is such a facility, there might not be any space available when you arrive--or it might simply be unusable for whatever reason.

So, you look for a signpost, lamppost or other seemingly immovable object--which aren't as impervious to bike thieves as they seem.  And they might be full, too. Then, you lock to fencing, scaffolding or even a waste basket.  I've even seen a bike locked to the chain that holds the cap to a fire hydrant.

Those things, of course, are easy work for a thief who has the time you spend in your workplace or classroom.  Rose Uscianowski, an organizer for Transportation Alternatives, learned that the hard way when she locked her bike to scaffolding in front of a building on John Street, in the city's financial district.  "I came out of my office and found a bar of scaffolding on the floor and my bike missing," she lamented.  "The only reason I locked up to scaffolding is that there are only a few racks on John Street, and they're always taken up."

Even scarcer are racks by subway stations or other public transportation facilities.  For people who live in areas that are a mile or more from the nearest subway or bus station--which is the case for people in the outlying areas of Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx, and for nearly everybody in Staten Island--truly having the option of riding to transit and feeling more or less certain that your bike will be there when you return might do as much, or more than, congestion pricing or other proposed methods to reduce traffic.

Plus, I think that making bike-parking facilities available at public transportation stations will help the public to see that cycling is a transportation alternative for people from all walks (pardon the pun) of life rather than the plaything of the young and privileged, and tourists.

From The Water To The Port

Three years ago, the Canal St. Martin was drained.  The City of Paris does that about every ten or fifteen years.

In dredgings past (sounds like a series of old therapy sessions!), the "treasures" at the bottom of the Canal included home furnishings, street signs, gold coins(!), World War I shells and even a car.  But the most recent drainage served as a sort of geological record of changes in the neighborhood around the canal--mostly the 10th Arrondissement--and in the City of Light itself.

The streets around the waterway have become the sites of bars, restaurants and clubs.  (The Bataclan, site of a mass shooting during a November 2015 concert, stands literally steps from the canal.)  The area is home to "Bobos"--a term combining "bohemian" and "bourgeois".  They are probably the Parisian equivalent of hipsters. At any rate, they share many of the same tastes with their Brooklyn counterparts.  

They include a thirst for craft beers (French as well as American) and wines.  Empty bottles and cans bearing those labels littered the bottom of the canal when it was dredged. So did another passion of that evanescent group:  bicycles--specifically, those from Velib, the city's bike-share service.

As far as I know, neither of the city's two canals--the Harlem River Ship Canal and the Gowanus Canal--has ever been drained.  Interestingly, the Gowanus--one of the most toxic waterways in the United States--flows, like the St. Martin, through a hipsterizing (Think of it as the hipster equivalent of gentrifying.) neighborhood.  According to an urban legend, the Mafia used to dump their "hits" in the Gowanus because the bodies would dissolve.  

Which brings me to this question:  Could a Citibike survive a dive into a city canal?

Somehow I doubt it would be even as intact as the bike in the photo.  That Citibike, missing since September 2017, showed up in the bike-share service's port at 73rd Street and Riverside Drive, where filmmaker Ted Geoghegan found it.  Its coating of barnacles and mud indicates that it spent time in the Hudson River--which, at that point, is actually an estuary.  

No one, it seems, can explain how it got from the river (or wherever it was) to the bike dock?  Did a thief take it, dump it, feel guilty and dive into the water to fetch it?  That seems unlikely because, well, that's not what thieves usually do, but also because if the thief did indeed dump the bike in the river, he or she wouldn't have found it in the same spot, or anywhere nearby.  The more likely scenario is that some boater or fisher found it and, not knowing what else to do, quietly brought it to the bike port.

That bike is more than likely beyond repair.  Spending almost any amount of time in the water would have destroyed the bike's electronics, and the growth on the rest of the bike indicates that the brackish water has corroded the rest of the bike so that it's structurally unsound, and its moving parts are probably irreparable. 

(Interesting aside:  The Gowanus and Harlem Ship are the only two canals in New York City today. In the 17th Century, however, lower Manhattan was laced with canals. That's not surprising when you realize the area was then called Nieuw Amsterdam, and the Dutch settlers were following a model of urban planning for which their capital is famous.)

How Not To Go To Court

A guy has a court hearing.  He rides a bike to it.

This could mean he doesn't have a car or can't drive.  Or, perhaps, it's the easiest and most convenient way to get there.  Another possibility is that he's trying to turn his life around by getting sober and exercising.

That last possibility seems plausible given that one of the charges against him is drug possession.  

But he arrives late.   All right, maybe he got lost or got a flat along the way.  Or there might be some other reason.  Perhaps it might have to do with the stolen property he's was charged with receiving.

Turns out, that stolen property included a chainsaw, an iPhone and groceries--in addition to an adult tricycle and two bicycles.

Oh, and those two bikes aren't the only stolen wheels he's had in his possession.  When he arrived at the courthouse in Laconia, New Hampshire, police detained upon the request of police in nearby Gilford.

Two nights previous, there'd been a break-in at Piche's Ski & Sport Shop on Gilford Avenue.  Guess what was taken during that burglary.  

Jeffrey T. Wyatt, a local transient, admitted knowing that the bike he rode to the courthouse--valued at $1800--was stolen.  He denied, however, any involvement in the burglary.

In addition to the thefts, receiving stolen property and drug possession, he also has charges of threatening with a deadly weapon, criminal trespass and willful concealment pending against him before he was arrested at the court house--for arriving on a stolen bicycle.

Not What Vittorio De Sica Had In Mind...

In Cambodia and Laos, I didn't have to worry about the bikes I was riding.  Nobody tried to steal them:  not the people, nor the macaques (who will steal just about anything else, if it's edible) nor the elephants or other creatures.

I never heard anything about the sun bears, which are endangered.  Now, black bears--which don't live in that part of the world--are another story.

Here in the States, you just don't know who you can trust!

(Somehow I don't think this is what Vittorio de Sica had in mind!)

Enrigester--ou Laissez-Faire?

Woonsocket, Rhode Island claims it's "la ville plus francaise aux Etats-Unis": the most French city in the United States. In one sense, that's true:  An estimated 46 percent  of its residents  are of French or French-Canadian heritage. It's believed that proportion is higher in Woonsocket (Don't you just love saying that name?) than in any other US municipality.  Moreover, the city is home to the American-French Genealogical Society.

But of all cities in the States, the one with the most French influence is undoubtedly New Orleans.  You can see it in the food, architecture, street names and the pace of life:  Gallic joie de vivre combined with Southern languor.  And while other US states are divided into counties, Louisiana, where New Orleans is located, consists of parishes:  a remnant of the region's French Catholic colonial past.  For that matter, the city's and state's codes bear more semblance to France's (or Quebec's) Civil Codes than to the Common Law-derived jurisprudence found in the rest of America.

Interestingly, it seems that the former colony and the former coloniser could go in opposite directions, at least in one area of bicycle policy.

Yesterday, "N'awlins" (All right, I'm a New Yorker but I don't say "Noo Yawk".  So this is the last time I'll pronounce New Orleans as a contraction!) announced that bicycle registration is no longer mandatory--except for rental bicycles.  The city will still offer registration; however, it will be voluntary and the fee will rise from $3 to $5 on New Year's Day.

What spurred the change, according to local advocates, is the $1000 in fines levied against musician Kevin Louis when he rode his "raggedy old" bike to buy a pack of cigarettes in the wee hours of morning.  Others have suggested, though, that the process for registering too often proved to be cumbersome, especially for those who couldn't provide a sales receipt or other proof of purchase for their wheels.  Examples include bikes purchased at yard sales or passed down between family members or friends--or, say, a bike someone gave away when he or she was moving.

But I believe there are also other reasons for the repeal.  One is the laissez-faire Southern attitude.  Remember, the city and state are deep in a part of the nation where the Second Amendment (or, at least a particular interpretation of it) is as sacred a document as the Gospels or the book of Leviticus.  People there really don't like governments telling them what to do; for them, having to register anything reeks of "Big Brother."

A more legitimate argument, however, was raised by other people.  Whenever any jurisdiction implements bike registration, a stated purpose is invariably to combat bike theft.  Registration supposedly deters at least some thieves, and makes it more likely that stolen bikes will be returned to their owners.

While there is no way to verify the first claim, one would expect that registration might deter casual thieves or "crimes of opportunity".  On the other hand, while some bikes in New Orleans and other places have been returned as a result of registration, the chances that you will ever see your bike again if it's nicked is depressingly small.

Yet, another jurisdiction--a nation, in fact--is making the arguments about theft deterrence and returning stolen bikes as it proposes a bike registration program.  It's part of a Plan Velo that, if implemented, would take effect in France in 2020.  Each frame would be marked with a number registered in a national database, much as motor vehicles are.

Other parts of the plan include installing secure bicycle parking facilities at SNCF (the French national rail system) stations, creating more widespread networks of bicycle lanes, offering employer-disbursed incentives for employees who ride their bikes to work.  (Similar subsidies are offered for those who use mass transit.)  It also would provide for bicycle classes in elementary schools.

While few doubt that building infrastructure and offering financial incentives could entice some commuters out of their cars and onto bikes, it's legitimate to question whether bicycle registration will actually help, as its proponents claim, to curb bicycle theft.  In fairness, some people, especially in cities, might be more willing to pedal to work if they felt confident they would still have their bikes at the end of the work day.

It's always interesting to see what happens when nations and their former colonies forge very different solutions to a problem.  Could 64 million French people really not be wrong?  Or do 393,292  folks in The Big Easy have the right idea?

What would they do in Woonsocket?

(Almost) Empty Box Dog Bikes

There was a time when a robbery or burglary seemed to be a rite of passage for an urban bike shop in the US.  

I can say, without being hyperbolic, that every New York shop in which I worked or bought anything from the late '70's to the early '90's was victimized by crooks.  Sometimes the perp walked in and demanded whatever cash was on hand, and whoever happened to be at the counter would hand it over.  Other times, a thief would flee with a bike or two or whatever parts or accessories he or she could carry.  

In one of the shops in which I worked, the robbers actually tied up the owner and employees in the basement and made off with expensive bikes and parts. (Fortunately for me, I wasn't working that day!)  Other shops experienced similar crimes. More than one such incident ended tragically:  In particular, I recall that a robbery in Frenchie's Cycle World, a favorite of Brooklyn cyclists, ended in a gunfight that left a robber and a police officer dead.

(The robber killed in Frenchie's was a 30-year-old man.  He persuaded his two teenage nephews and teenage friend to help him.  They were captured thanks to a ruse by one of the shop's employees.)

And then there were burglaries like the ones  that finally drove Tom Avenia out of New York City. From what I heard--whether from Tom himself or others, I forget--his windows, doors and gates were all broken or ripped out so that someone could have unpaid access to his Frejus, Legnano and other Italian bikes, as well as Campagnolo equipment.  Then, one night--again, this is an account I've heard--some thief or thieves actually cut a hole in the roof of his store and helped themselves to much of his merchandise.

I was reminded of Tom, Frenchie's and the other thefts I've mentioned when I heard about what happened in San Francisco the other night.

Box Dog Bikes is a worker-owned shop in the city's Mission district.  In the wee hours of yesterday morning, Geoffrey Colburn, one of the owners, got a call from the police department after they were called by a neighbor.  

What he and the cops found were a hole--just big enough to squeeze bikes through--in the metal gate, and a shattered tempered-glass window behind it.  Inside: empty bike racks.

In all, 21 bikes--most of the shop's inventory--were taken.  They were all listed on the shop's Instagram account.  Included is a plea to call 911 for anyone who sees the bikes, along with an admonition not to fight anyone who has the bikes.  "Most of these bikes don't have pedals, so it's gonna be hard to ride them."

If that doesn't stop the thieves, I hope something else will.

How Much Will It Cost?

How much is that bike-ee in the window?

You've heard the saying, "If you have to ask what it costs, you can't afford it."  Well, somehow I don't think someone in San Diego asked "how much?" about the Moots in the Adams Avenue Bicycles window.  Maybe he already knew its price--or had an idea of what it was worth.  

That probably explains why he pried the bars off the window and smashed the glass.

By the way, the price tag on that bike was $8639.99.  The thief left it behind--along with the image on the store's surveillance camera.

I'd be interested to see what it costs him--if and when he's caught.

Off The Island With Them!

Yesterday I wrote about cops who break the law--specifically, one that forbids cycling on the sidewalks of Denver.  I also mentioned that those same officers routinely overlook violations of said statute.

Now, to balance things out, I'm going to write about two constables who broke a law pertaining to cycling--with less reason than their peers in the Mile High City--and were arrested for it.

Actually, the law isn't about bicycles specifically.  But, given its locale, it has special resonance for cyclists and makes the policemen's offence all the more egregious.

Lt. Andrew Longuski and Detective Sgt. Derrick Jordan work in the Polygraph Section of of the Michigan State Police's Biometrics and Identification Division.  Now, if any two officers know about your chances of getting busted if you commit a crime, I would expect them to be the ones.

They were attending a training conference on the Great Lake State's Upper Peninsula when they decided to go for a joyride on Mackinac Island.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, motorized vehicles are not allowed on the island, so people usually get around on foot or by bicycle.  And some of those bikes are tandems.  Thus, two guys on a bike built for one would--and, in their case, did--attract attention.

That, and the fact that the bike had a pink seat.  Longuski pulled up to Jordan and offered to let him ride with him to a watering hole. 

Now, even though a couple of cops on a bike built for one raised a few eyebrows, it probably wouldn't have gotten them in trouble had the bike not belonged to either Longuski or Jordan.  


Apparently, the cops-turned-perps didn't realize that the offenses for which officers of the law cannot be indicted do not include taking a bike that is not one's own--especially in a place like Mackinac Island.  Oh, and immunity doesn't extend to Disorderly Conduct, a charge that most likely stemmed from their heated exchange between them and the Island's law enforcement officers.  

Both officers pleaded "not guilty" at their arraignments on 30 May and were released on bond.  They are due back in court in July and face up to 93 days in jail in addition to fines.

Hmm...This is an interesting "not guilty" plea from a couple of polygraph experts.  Perhaps the truth is subjective, after all.

A New Low In Bike Theft?

Adding insult to injury

Stealing from the grave

No honor among thieves

Any one of those dreary cliches applies, at least somewhat, to what I'm about to report.

In Fullerton, California a 65-year-old woman was walking her bicycle across Brookhurst Street, just south of Valencia Drive (one of the area's main corridors), the other morning.  A 2015 black Mazda sedan was traveling southbound on Brookhurst and had just crossed Valencia when it smacked into the woman.



To her credit, the driver--a 26-year-old woman--has cooperated with investigators.  She did not appear to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol.  And, in her defense, looking at a map and street view lead me to believe eyewitness and police accounts that say the woman with the bicycle wasn't in a crosswalk when she tried to get to the other side of Brookhurst from the Fullerton Armory.

Here is where the story gets considerably murkier:  When police and paramedics arrived, the bicycle was missing.  According to police Sergeant John Radus, it was stolen.  He says that his department wants it for evidence.

Of course, being the skeptical New Yorker that I am, I have to ask:  When, exactly, was it stolen?  Did the driver--who remained at the scene--see the theft or, more to the point, the thief?  

Since it seems unlikely, to say the least, that the bike simply vanished, I would believe that it was stolen by somebody.  

That woman with the bicycle was was crossing just after 6 am:  when residents of the Armory, which is a homeless shelter, are required to leave.  If that woman was homeless--as seems likely--she may not have had much else besides that bike.  

Could this be a new low in bike theft?

Girl Wins Bike As Mother Loses Hers

It'll cost $1000 to replace her mother's bike.  I just hope she doesn't have to spend that much, or more, for therapy.

On Wendnesday, seven-year-old Nayaraq Alvarez was returning home with her father, Carlos--and her new bicycle.  It was a prize for a poster she made as part of an anti-bullying campaign sponsored by the Miami Beach Police Department. 

When they arrived, they saw a suspicious-looking man running from their apartment building.  They then discovered that thieves had broken in and stolen her mother's Cannondale Quick 4 bicycle.  "It's a shame because we have lots of good memories with it," Carlos said.  Though he plans to help her "look for a new one", he hopes "someone can find it for us."



Surveillance footage provided clear footage of a man with a backpack entering and leaving the building several times.  During one of those trips, he is seen wheeling the bike out.  

That Cannondale, like the bikes of many other residents in that building, had been in a storage room.  Since then, other residents have moved their bikes into their apartments.  Not surprisingly, Nayaraq's new bike is in her family's living quarters.  

Several other Miami Beach residents have reported their bikes stolen during the past couple of weeks.  Although the thief who took Nayraq's mother's bike may have been involved in one or more of those thefts, no one is saying that it's definitely the case.  But Mr. Alvarez is not only concerned with bike theft.  "He's carrying a big backpack, so what else does he have in there?" he wondered.  "[I]t could be a potentially dangerous situation for everybody," he says.

Hopefully, young Nayaraq won't have nearly as  much baggage from the incident.

Reunited, Two Years Later

In some earlier posts, I bemoaned the fact that stolen bicycles are almost never returned to their rightful owners.  In most cities, if someone takes your bike, you have less than a two percent chance of ever seeing it again.

Since I don't want this blog to turn into a repository of lamentable statistics and depressing stories, I try to draw attention to the outliers and happy endings, whenever I hear about them.

Trevor Pryor

Two years ago, Trevor Pryor was working for Arizona State University in Tempe.  He propped his machine in a hallway for "only a few seconds" while he said good-bye to some co-workers.

Well, "a few seconds" is all a thief needs.  "I turned around and the bike is gone," Pryor recalls.  He checked online marketplaces like Offerup.com and Letgo.com, but found "no real leads."  

His bike

He despaired of ever seeing his bike--"my first  bike I bought with my own money", he explained--again.  That is, until last week, when a friend noticed the bike on the Facebook page of the Bicycle Recovery Action Team (BRAT:  what an acronym!), a group of vigilantes that keeps an eye out for stolen bikes.  

The friend set up a meeting to look at it .  Pryor, accompanied by an ASU police officer, went to a warehouse full of bikes in Tempe.  There, a man wheeled the bike out and the officer intervened.  "Did you know that bike is stolen?," he asked.

The man's boss claimed he bought the bike at a pawnshop and offered to sell it to Pryor for $100 because he "didn't want to take a loss."
 

Reporters who followed this story went back to that warehouse the other day.  It was full of bikes, but there were no people there.

At least Pryor has his bike back.  Hopefully, other bikes in that warehouse will end up with their rightful owners.

When It's Gone In Tucson: You Have A 3 Percent Chance

I feel like somebody broke my leg.

Tucson, Arizona resident Leif Abrell voiced what many of us felt when a bicycle was stolen from us.  He lost his custom-made mountain bike in the wee hours of 28 September.  Like most bike-theft victims, he didn't see that his trusty steed was gone until it was too late:  A noise woke him and he noticed the door to his carport was open.  He checked to see whether anything valuable was missing, but in his groggy state, it didn't occur to him to look in the dining room of his midtown home.  When he did, he saw that his treasured bike was missing.  And he found a much-inferior bike deserted on the side of the street next to his house.

The rest of his story is also all-too-familiar to those of us who've had our wheels whisked away:  He reported his loss to the police.  While he "didn't have high hopes" for recovering his bike, he clung to "some hopes that something would happen," he recounted.  Alas, "nothing really happened," he said.

I learned of Abrell's ordeal from an article on Tucson.com.  According to that same article, 1200 bike thefts have been reported to police in "The Old Pueblo".  Only about three percent of those cases ended in arrests of suspected thieves and, worse, there's really how many stolen bikes are returned to their rightful owners.  As in most cities, the police don't track that.

Perhaps most disheartening of all, 63 percent of this year's bike theft cases were marked as "cleared", meaning they reached some sort of conclusion. Why is that disheartening?  Well, most of those cases were closed because there wasn't enough evidence to continue an investigation.  

Everything I've mentioned confirms something known to most of us who have had bikes stole:  Once it's gone, you'll probably never see it again.

Chris Hawkins, a Tucson police spokesman, echoed a common refrain in explaining why it's so difficult to track stolen bicycles:  In most places, "bicycles don't need to be registered like vehicles."  And, he says, bicycle owners rarely record serial numbers, which can be entered into databases for access by owners of second-hand shops and other establishments where stolen bikes might end up. 

The lack of such records, Hawkins says, is one reason why, even when bikes are retrieved by cops and find their way to the evidence room, they are seldom re-united with their owners.  

While Hawkins makes good points, the cynic in me (I am a New Yorker, after all) wonders whether some police departments would actively pursue bike a bike theft even if they had serial numbers and other records.  While some officers, like some people in other professions and jobs, simply don't care, others are simply overwhelmed by competing priorities and directives. 

Sometimes I think one has the best hope of getting a stolen bike back if a shop owner or mechanic recognizes it--or if its owner encounters it on the street.