Another Reason Your Favorite Shop Doesn't Have What You Want Or Need

During the 1980s and early 1990s, some bike shop owners and employees, it seemed, regarded robberies as a rite of passage.  I knew, and was known in, most Manhattan and Brooklyn shops and I don't think a single one escaped having expensive bikes, parts or money stolen.  Some even prepared themselves for what seemed an inevitability:  One employee was able to free herself, two fellow employees and the shop's owner after a perp tied them up and fled with cash and merchandise.

Later in the 1990s, as overall crime dropped, such events became less common.  Theft in bike shops, by that time, was more likely to be a matter of  some sticky-fingered opportunist absconding with a bike computer or expensive accessory or part--or low-paid employees taking "samples" of stuff they couldn't afford on their salaries.  

If you live long enough (as someone with a blog called "Midlife Cycling" has), you realize that almost no condition, good or bad, lasts forever--and that the good usually has at least one bad consequence,and vice versa.

Case in point:  the COVID 19-induced Bike Boom.  Anyone selling or repairing bikes, or anything related to them, was doing more business than they've done in years, or ever.  Then, lockdowns and workforce attrition throughout supply chains--from factories in the Far East to docks on the East and West coasts--led to scarcity that caused the prosperity that burned so brightly to consume the very shops that enjoyed it, however briefly.  

Those shortages--and the overall increase in crime--led to something that now seems all but inevitable:  an increase in theft, of bikes parked on streets, stored in warehouses or displayed on showroom floors, and of parts and accessories.  So, the number of bike shops incurring theft--whether of small items or bikes with five-figure price tags--has risen for the first time in decades.  

Worse, bike shop robberies and other crimes have been "taken to another level," in the words Gillian Forsyth.  She owns BFF Bikes in Chicago, which was hit when "people were going to work and cars about" on a weekday morning.  The robbers "crashed through one of my windows" and "targeted five very high-end bikes," she said.  "They just kind of rushed in, grabbed the bikes and left very quickly."

Although she has security footage of the incident, Forsyth says that identifying the perps will be difficult because they were masked--an ironic consequence of a measure taken to deal with the COVID pandemic.

In an ideal world, everyone will have a good bike and will ride it without worrying about their safety while riding or the bike's safety when parked.  In the meantime, we'll have to settle for part of the utopia, I guess:  More people are riding bikes.

How Not To Sell A Stolen Bike

When I wrote for a newspaper, I talked with a man who was (or at least claimed to have been) a "professional thief."  In other words, he said, stealing--jewels, mainly-- was his metier. And, as such, he and others like him had a set of guidelines--a code of professional conduct, if you will.  They included such gems as "Never kill unless there is no other alternative" and "Never steal from anyone poorer than yourself."

One thing that separates professionals, like the one he claimed to be, and others is that he stole strictly to "get paid," he said.  "You steal, you sell, you spend," he explained, unlike amateurs who might, say, steal out of poverty and desperation or to support a drug habit.

By implication, that meant "you shouldn't steal to support your stealing"  and "you shouldn't use something stolen to steal." In other words, a professional thief never  should do what two men in Oregon seem to have done.

A bicycle was stolen in Eugene, the state's capital.  The victim found it for sale on Facebook Marketplace and arranged to meet the sellers at the Walmart in nearby Springfield.  He apprised the cops of what he was doing.

Just before the gendarmes arrived, one of the sellers, who drove the car used to transport the bike, went into the store.  The officers, seeing the bike in the back seat, took the passenger--35-year-old Guy Devault--into custody on a warrant.  Shortly afterward, they caught the driver--Juan Sanchez, also 35 years old--in the store.

An investigation concluded that Devault was responsible for the stolen bike. But, as it turned out, the car was also stolen.  So, in addition to his outstanding warrant on for kidnapping, Sanchez now also faces a charge of being in possession of a stolen vehicle:  the car used to transport the bike.

The fellow I talked to when I was writing for a newspaper would have known better than that.

  

A Path For Stolen Bikes

Between 2005 and 2010, a number of European cities, mainly in the north and west, initiated bike-share programs.  Paris and Rome were among them.  Both ran into similar problems, among them vandalism and theft.  In both the City of Light and the Eternal City, bikes ended up at the bottom of bodies of water:  the Canal Saint Martin in Paris and the Tiber in Rome.  Also, a number of bikes went to--and a few were recovered in North Africa and Eastern Europe, particularly Romania.

The fact that so many bikes were not returned led Rome to pull the plug on its program, and for two companies to abandon the city.  The Velib program nearly met the same fate before a Spanish company, Smovengo, took it over and rebranded it as Velib Metropole in 2018.

Over the years, I have heard from friends and acquaintances in France and elsewhere that Romania is a common destination for goods, including everything from watches and designer clothing to priceless artwork, stolen in other parts of Europe. The reasons I've heard and read include everything from the relative poverty of the country to the corruption or inefficacy of police and government officials.  

Whatever the reasons, it seems that high-profile sports teams--including those in cycling--are not immune to the problem.  About a month ago, the Italian national team competed--and won seven medals--in this year's World track championships, held in Roubaix, Belgium (the end-point of the Paris-Roubaix race, a.k.a. "L'enfer du nord.).  The team stayed in a hotel just over the border in Lille, France that was selected specifically for its safety.

Well, we all know that stuff happens even in the safest places and structures.  The team was getting ready for its return home when 22 of its Pinarellos--including four with a distinctive gold--were stolen from a team van.  In total, those bikes were valued at around 400,000 Euros (about 451,790 USD).

Italian team members Simone Consonni, Filippo Ganna, Francesco Lamon and Jonathan Milan on the track bikes that were stolen.

 

The good news is that police recovered the bikes after they caught some criminals in the act of trying to sell  them.  Searches also turned up--surprise, surprise--other stolen goods, including eight televisions, ten mobile phones and drugs, in addition to 2800 Euros in cash.  

On Monday, team mechanics travelled to Romania to pick up the bikes and bring them back in Italy. 

Disabled Man's Bike Stolen

In yesterday's post, I talked about the importance of bicycles, sometimes modified, for people with disabilities.  Some people, like a man I mentioned, can't get drivers' licenses because of their disabilities, but they can still pedal a two- or three-wheeler.  That can allow disabled folks to get to jobs or classes, or exercise, they might not have otherwise.  Being able to study, make a living and get exercise--or simply enjoy some of the other things normally-abled people take for granted--brings about a sense of independence and some semblance of control over their lives.  

For some disabled people, such as Randy Bowling, simply getting a bike is an accomplishment.  The 50-year-old Hamilton, Ohio resident suffered a traumatic brain injury at age 16.  A few months ago, he spent $157 on a bike he rode four miles, each way, to and from his job at a Wal-Mart.  "It was the first bike I ever bought myself," he said.

Now that bike is gone.  On Saturday night, Bowling rode to the door of a nearby store.  He stepped inside and, less than a minute later, a man rode up on another bike, grabbed Bowling's ride, and took off.  The theft was captured on the store's video camera.

Although he needs the job and says he's prepared to walk to work if he must, Bowling says he doesn't feel angry toward the guy who took his bike.  "I'd rather talk to him and help him get a job," he expains.

He Lost His Key, Not His BIke

The pandemic has brought both out the altruism and avariciousness of people.  It's also revealed their creativity and hideboundedness, as well as their brilliance and sheer stupidity.

Examples of the latter include the woman who got busted for using a fake vaccine card.  Her forgery was detected because the name of the vaccine she didn't receive was spelled "Maderna."

As if there isn't enough boneheadedness to go around, a probably-soon-to-be-former San Jose Sharks forward Evander Kane got himself suspended for a quarter of the season because he violated the National Hockey League's COVID-19 protocol.  His offense?  He submitted a fake vaccine card.

And, to prove that idiocy knows no boundaries, there's Singapore Police Station inspector Ong Chee Seng.  On 26 May, the 50-year-old rode his foldable bicycle to a shopping mall so he could buy lunch. When he returned to his bike, he couldn't find his key.  He tried to borrow a cutter from the mall's security personnel, but they wouldn't help him because they couldn't verify that the bike was his.

Later that day, he sent a message on his WhatsApp group chat, asking whether he could borrow a cutter.  One friend jokingly suggested that he call the police and claim he'd found his stolen bicycle.  The constables, this friend jested, could then perform a "free service" for him.

The rest of this story illustrates something else we've learned during this pandemic:  There's no counsel so bad that nobody will follow it. (Think of the folks who followed Trump's advice and injected themselves with cleaning products.) So, Ong called the Punggol Neighborhood Police Center and told the officer who answered, "I found my stolen bicycle here at the bicycle bay of Waterway Point.  I need police assistance."

Google Street View image

He led officers dispatched to the scene to another nearby location, claiming it was stolen when he locked it there.  When one of the officers said he'd check the CCTV cameras, Ong confessed to his lie. He was then charged with providing false information to police that led to an investigation.

On 3 September, he was suspended from the Singapore Police Force and the other day, he was fined $3000.  The SPF has also initiated "internal action" against him. If stupidity were a crime, his sentence surely would have been greater.

Because That's Where The Bikes Are

Because that's where the money is.

So responded Willie Sutton to the question of why he robbed banks.  I got to thinking about him when I wrote yesterday's post and a story that came my way afterward.

One reason why some people don't include cycling in their daily commute is their all-too-justifiable concern that when they park their bikes at the train or bus station in the morning, it won't be there when they return in the evening.  Bike thieves know that transportation hubs are mother lodes for bikes that can be quickly sold or parted out.

Another rich vein for velocipedic gold, if you will, is college campuses.  Students at California Polytechnic State University (Cal Poly) in San Luis Obispo have discovered this the hard way.  

While some students lost their bike through carelessness--  they thought they could leave their bikes "for a minute" or used their big, strong U-Locks only on the front wheel--others who were careful and diligent nonetheless have lost machines they depend on for transportation as well as recreation.

Students who lost their bikes echo a common refrain of victims in other venues:  The cops don't care.  Their complaint is valid:  The percentage of stolen bikes that are reunited with their owners is abysmally low.  That, even though, "At bike shops in town, it's not uncommon to see stolen bikes come in," according to Sam Coyle, a Cambria Bicycle Outfitters Employee.

And the the thieves went to where the bikes are.

Not The Best Getaway Vehicle

 Call me sexist (a transgender woman!), but I reserve some of my greatest contempt for healthy young males who prey, in any way on anyone, especially females, who are smaller, weaker or in any way more vulnerable.  Perhaps it has something to do with my old-school blue-collar upbringing in Brooklyn and New Jersey.

But I also couldn’t resist the impulse toward derision when I heard about the perp who, just seven kilometers and a few neighborhoods due  east of my apartment, knocked a ten-year-old girl off her bike.  He then took her bike and cell phone and took off on her bike.

I feel terrible for the girl, but I couldn’t help but to chuckle when I saw the bike.  It’s the sort of thing little girls ride all over the world:  a small drop-bar frame, painted pink, with butterflies on it.

When was the last time you heard of a thief using something like that for a getaway vehicle?

I hope the girl is OK and that she gets the help she’ll need. (Contrary to what we’ve been told, kids aren’t always resilient.  And why should we expect them to be?)  

I also wouldn’t want to be the pero when he ends up in Rikers! For one thing, there’s no one other inmates—even the most incorrigible criminals—hate more than a human-shaped male being (I refuse to call such a creature a “man”) who commits violence against women or children.  Oh, and he tried to get away on a little pink butterflies on it.  They’ll never let him live that down!

Disrupting Mass Transit--With A Citibike

For me, it was the kind of story that I couldn't believe when I first heard it, three nights ago.  But once it "sank in," I wasn't surprised.

After all, bikes from share programs have ended up in exotic faraway places, at the bottoms of rivers and canals or in "chop shops."  Theft and vandalism killed the bike share program in Rome and nearly did so in other cities.

But the way a Citibike in my home town met its demise--and disrupted transit service in my neighborhood--took aggression against public bike programs to a new level.

At the Steinway Street station--which is the second-closest subway stop to my apartment--someone tossed one of the blue share bikes onto the tracks.

It just happened that two trains, traveling in opposite directions, entered the station.  Whether or not it was the vandal's intention, the bike landed in just the right spot for both trains to hit it, or parts of it.    

Here's the result:

Was the vandal's intention to "blow up" Citibike--or the subway system?   

Rust Belt Reverse Robin Hood

It’s  bad enough when a bike shop is robbed.  I feel for the owners and employees who are trying to make a living while providing valuable services.

A robbery is all the more galling when its target is a non-profit shop committed to making bicycles to everyone who can ride.  It’s worse still when such a shoo is located in an area where the need is great.

The scenario described in the previous paragraph took place on Sunday night, around 9:30. A surveillance video shows someone smashing a cash register in the parking lot.  According to reports, the amount of cash the perp took was not great, but it surely matters to a shop like Toledo Bikes.  

So did the bike he took from the showroom floor—and another bike taken yesterday morning by someone who entered through the door broken by whoever filched the first bike.

A man has been arrested in relation to yesterday‘s theft. Police haven’t yet confirmed whether he, or someone else, is responsible for the first robbery.

A local glass repair company, no doubt cognizant of Toledo Bikes’ value to the community (and its probably-minuscule budget) has offered to replace the broken glass door.

A Masked Slash And Grab

The good news about the COVID-19 epidemic (Did I actually write that?) is that more people are riding bikes.

The bad news is that more bikes are being stolen.  What's worse is that not all of the thieves are taking unattended bikes or breaking locks on parked machines. Perps know they're harder to identify when they're wearing masks, so some have become more brazen about how they part riders from their wheels.

Such was the case a month ago, just a few miles from my apartment.  Sometimes, during rides to or from Fort Totten or Nassau County, I'll stop in Flushing--the Chinatown of Queens--for dumplings or other tasty treats.  A young man who stopped in front of a restaurant near Main Street--may have had the same idea.

Whatever his intention, another young man started to talk to him.  The distraction allowed another young man to approach him from behind--and slash him in the face.

He dropped his phone and bike.  The guy who started the conversation scooped them up and took off.  The slasher ran into a subway station a few doors away.

Everything was captured on video.  I just hope someone can recognize the perps and call the NYPD hotline (1-800-577-8477 for English, 1-800-577-4782 for Spanish).

Pedal Power Loses Its Fleet

 Whatever you believe, or don't believe in, you probably agree that it's not OK to take other people's stuff without their permission.

Taking someone's bike is, therefore, a pretty low deed, as its owner almost always loves and/or depends on it.  For some, it might be the difference between having a relatively healthy childhood and becoming another statistic.

Susan Tuck and Mark Trumper understood as much.  That is what led them to start Pedal Power eight years ago in Minneapolis. Part of the mission in starting Pedal Power, according to Trumper, is to "bring the outdoors to children of color." As the organization's "About" page tells us, Tuck and Trumper were motivated by the "abrupt realization that a whole lotta kids never learn to ride a bike." I agree with their assessment:  "that's a problem--one that's worth tackling." 

As teachers, their motto could hardly be more fitting:  "Learn to bike.  Bike to learn." The thing is, to do either, you need a bike--and to know how to ride it.  So, with the help of small grants and donations, they assembled a fleet for the kids at Pillsbury Elementary School, where Trumper and Tuck teach-- and half of the kids are African-American and more than a quarter are Hispanic and 84 percent receive free or discounted lunches.  And realizing that some of them had never been on a bike, they taught kids how to ride.

Knowing what Trumper's and Tuck's efforts, and the bikes themselves, mean to the kids, it's was especially galling to lose, not just one bike, but all 30 in the fleet, along with pumps, reflective vests and cable locks.  

They were stored in an unmarked trailer on school grounds. Late last Thursday night, someone called the police to report someone trying to break in.  When Trumper drove by the following morning, the trailer and its contents were gone.  

Trumper summed up his, Tuck's and the kids' mood: "We're devastated."  They do, however, hope to ride again. To that end, Pedal Power is accepting donations.

Thief Stopped, Too Late

 During my dim, dark past, I did a few good deeds.  One of them, some three decades later, fills me with pride and glee:  I stopped a would-be bike thief.  

After watching a film--My Left Foot--I left the old Paris Theatre, just across 58th Street from the Plaza Hotel.  A burly guy hunched over a Motobecane locked to a sign post.  Normally, I wouldn't have given someone like him any more notice, but my glance lasted just long enough to see him twist that bike.  

He was trying to pop the lock.  I'd heard that it was an M.O. of bike thieves, but that was the first time I'd seen it in action.  My rage rose; I could have shouted but I crept behind him--and tapped him on the shoulder.

Then, I was still a guy named Nick.  I rode, literally, everywhere and every time possible--including, of course, to the Paris Theatre.  In those days, I was also lifting weights, so I was solidly muscled throughout my body.  And I wore a full beard.

Now, the guy was built like me though, perhaps, he wasn't doing as much to keep in shape as I was.  But he must have believed that whatever he saw in my face, or the way I stood--or, perhaps, the rage that radiated from me--was a more powerful force. Or, maybe, it was just scarier.

He took off faster on his feet than most people could have on any set of wheels.  Good thing for him that just past the Plaza is Central Park!

The pride I felt was in knowing I saved some fellow cyclist, whom I've most likely never met, from losing his or her means of transportation, fitness or simply pleasure.  The glee came later, when I recalled the expression on the perp's face after I tapped him and he turned around.

But, given that I confronted that guy in a New York of record-high crime rates (think of Fort Apache, The Bronx or Hill Street Blues), things could have ended differently.  I could have met the fate of Brent Cannady.  

On the night of 5 August 2019, he and his friend left his  apartment in Bakersfield, California.   There, 29-year-old Marvinesha Johnson wheeled a bike-- one belonging to Cannady's friend.  

They grabbed it and headed back to the apartment. Ms. Johnson followed, threatened to kill 37-year-old Cannady and pulled a gun from her bag.

She fired four shots.  All of them hit Cannady.  He died the next day.

Marvinesha Johnson

The other day, she was found guilty of second-degree murder and resisting a peace officer. At her sentencing hearing, scheduled for 10 December, she faces 40 years to life in prison.

Fortunately for me and the owner of a Motobecane, my confrontation of a would-be thief ended with someone keeping his or her bike and a perp with his tail between his legs, if only for a moment.  I can only wish that things could have ended as well for Brent Cannady and his friend.

  

More Riders+ Not Enough Bikes=Theft

 For as long as there have been bicycles, there have been bike thieves.  That's my guess, anyway.

I also reckon that bicycle thefts increase along with the popularity of cycling.  As I've mentioned in other posts, I became a dedicated cyclist as a teenager, late in the North American Bike Boom of the 1970s.  Until that time, there didn't seem to be much bike theft and the loss of a bicycle was seen like losing a toy, mainly because almost all bikes at that time were ridden by kids.

During the "boom", for the first time in about half a century, significant numbers of American adults were riding bicycles.  While most pedaled for recreation or fitness, a few rode to work.  That, I believe, the reason why bike theft was taken more seriously.

That is, by everyone except the police.  If you were to report your stolen bike, you'd be told, explicitly or implicitly, that you wouldn't see it again.  They had bigger fish to fry; never mind that the person might have been using the bike to put food on his or her table.

History repeats itself, plus ca change, or whatever how you want to say it.  Bike sales have surged.  So have bike thefts.  Worse, methods that haven't been seen since the "bad old days" of high crime have made a comeback.  There  are reports of bikes lifted, along with the railings to which they were locked,  from the insides of buildings.  And, in the Bronx, eight men attacked a 15-year-old boy and took the bike he was riding.

Stealing the bike may not have been the ultimate goal in that attack, though the bike was a worthwhile "haul" for the perps.  Some of the other thefts may have been "fenced" for quick cash.  But, according to reports, some of bikes may have been stolen because of the current shortage, caused by a spike in demand combined with a disruption of supply chains.

Isn't Losing Your Bike Bad Enough?

 Having a bike stolen is a bummer.  Stealing a bike makes someone a bum, or worse.

Sometimes I think the authorities don't take bike theft seriously because of a perception that we're all recreational rider; that for an adult, being on a bike doesn't serve a real purpose.

Of course, you know better:  You may be a bicycle commuter.  Your bike might be your primary, or only, vehicle, whether by circumstance or choice.  

Sometimes, it seems, we're not "redeemed", and the thefts of our mounts are not taken seriously, if we're not using our bikes for some "higher" purpose.  That is why I had mixed feelings when I read about Jim Plummer Jr. of West Warwick, Rhode Island. 

Of course I empathised with him in losing his bike, and rejoiced on reading that a Facebook campaign enabled him to buy another.  I had to wonder, though, whether the incident would have been noted at all had he not been riding as part of a benefit for the Children's Cancer Research Fund.

Jim Plummer, Jr.

I don't mean to disparage charity rides or campaigns:  I've done a few, and intend to do more.  But I don't believe we should have to do them in order to justify our riding, or for the thefts of our bikes to be as worthy of attention as other thefts.

A Bike Thief's Luck Runs Out

Yesterday I subjected you, dear readers, to a story about a bike shop break-in and my ruminations about how the COVID-19 epidemic has turned bicycles into scarce and valuable commodities.

Well, today, I'm going to introduce you to a bike thief who seemed not to be motivated by the current bike boom and shortage.  

In Mesquite, Nevada--just over the state line from Utah--police responded to a bicycle theft at the Virgin River Casino. (Am I the only one who thinks "virgin" and "casino" look odd together?) Not long afterward, at a nearby gas station, someone jumped into a car that had been left running and drove it away.

According to Mesquite Police Sergeant Wyatt Oliver, people often leave cars running so that it won't get too hot inside.  The key (pun intended) is to lock it before leaving, he explained.  It seems that most people remember to do that, so Officer Oliver says, such a theft "doesn't happen very often."

The thief did something else that "doesn't happen very often."  When vehicles are stolen in the area, thieves normally make a beeline for the nearby freeway.  Our anti-hero drove to another casino where employees reported someone "acting suspiciously."  Mesquite police officers then showed up and arrested Danielle Derosia of Henderson, Colorado.

Danielle Derosia

So what motivated her?  My guess is that both thefts were "crimes of opportunity."  Finding an unattended car with its engine running after she'd just stolen a bike may have led her to believe that she had luck on her side and she decided to try that luck in the casino.  And, though she had the impulse to steal, she wasn't thinking like a seasoned thief, who would run as far and fast as possible from the scene of the crime.

Whatever her motivations or level of "street smarts," she stole a bike.  That won't win her many fans on this blog!

A Consequence Of The Current Bike Boom

By now, you've heard from me, Retrogrouch, other bloggers and various media outlets about the new "bike boom" spurred by the COVID-19 pandemic.

That "boom" means that bicycles as well as helmets, locks and other related items are scarce, or unavailable, due to disruptions in supply chains.  

About all I remember from my economics course is "supply and demand."  The professor, it seemed, intoned that phrase about three or for times every class.  

When there's more demand than supply, prices go up. Of course, you don't need an economics class to understand that--or that, in such circumstances, when demand continues to outstrip supply, enterprising folks will find ways to appropriate some of the supply.

That last clause is, as you know, a polite way of saying, in such a situation, some will steal--whether for themselves or to supply unmet demand. 

The thing is, victims of theft tend not to  care much about why someone steal from them.  They want their stuff back, or to be remunerated for it.  And, depending on their beliefs and temperament, they want the thief to be penalized. 

While bikes are stolen in "normal" (whatever that means anymore) times, whether from the street or a shop, it seems that, lately, there's been an increase in the number of shop break-ins---and the amount and dollar value of what's taken.

In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, a white pickup truck pulled up by Pearland Bicycles in Houston.  Someone emerged from the vehicle, crowbar in hand.  In prying open the store's glass door, he shattered it.  He and two accomplices ran inside and grabbed whatever they could.  Within minutes, they had about 20 bikes. Pearland owner Darryl Catching says he lost around $40,000 in the burglary.




Some of the bikes were already sold and waiting for customers to pick them up, he said.  So it is even more imperative for him to replace those bikes than if they had simply been standing in the showroom.

Because the thieves struck at 1:30 am, they had time.  How much? "Looks like one of them, he went to the restroom," Catching said.  

Losing Her Child

"Like a mother who lost her child."

I am sure many of you would feel that way if your bicycle went missing.  Whether the bike is a means of everyday transportation or has transported you across a continent, you are probably as protective of it as a parent of his or her progeny.

Patricia McNeil, a stroke survivor who lives in the Florida Panhandle, certainly is feeling such a loss.  Her black Trek took her across the country twice and served as her sole means of transportation.  In Florida, the latter is really saying something and is one reason why she logged over 40,000 miles on it in two years.



She left her machine in the foyer of a local Target. It's not the first time she parked her bike there and whenever she left the store, she retrieved her bike--until last Wednesday, that is.

Security footage confirmed that the bike was indeed stolen--by a local male who "looks like actor Paul Walker" and has a sleeve tatoo on his left arm.  It sounds to me that he knew about McNeil and her bike and the theft was a crime of opportunity.

Anyway, I hope he is apprenhended and Ms. McNeil gets her bike back.  Nobody deserves to lose her child.

Who Can Go Lower?

Stealing someone's bike is one of the lowest things one human being can do to another.

All right, I'll confess:  I'm not the first person to say as much.  Tom Cuthbertson said it in Anybody's Bike Book, warning that bike locks are only but so effective in deterring theft.

Now, one of the lowest things anybody has said, at least in recent history, was uttered by Donald Trump. (Are you surprised?) He claimed that there wasn't really a shortage of masks.  Rather, he claimed, they were going "out the back door."

Although I am not a health-care worker, I took umbrage to that remark because some of my current and former students work in hospitals and nursing homes and a neighbor/friend of mine is a nurse in one of this city's major hospitals.  It's hard not to wonder when--or whether--I'll see or hear from them again.

Trump accusing them of theft is a bit like Lance Armstrong accusing another rider of "juicing."  Or a Kardashian castigating anybody for a lack of restraint.

How much lower can someone go?  


It looks like somebody has plumbed such depths.  I am talking about the lowlife who took Dan Harvey's bike.  

At 2 am GMT, he had just finished his nine-hour shift at Queen's Medical Centre in Nottingham, England.  He'd spent the night as he's spent previous nights:  treating COVID-19 patients in the hospital's intensive care unit.  

Dan Harvey, medic

He went to an area of the hospital where a staff ID is required for entry.  He expected to unlock his bike and "clear his head" as he pedaled home.

Instead, he had to take a taxi:  His bike was gone. And his wasn't the first stolen from that limited-access area.

The ray of light in this darkness came after Harvey shared his loss on social media.  Soon, offers to replace his wheels came in.  

Dan Harvey, cyclist

He's riding to work again.  But it doesn't make stealing a bike from someone who rides it to a job where he puts his life on the line for others any less base of an act.

Bike Thieves Meet The Id

Alert:  I will talk politics and religion in this post.

Donald Trump may well be the first American president to rule entirely by his id.  

That's the part of our psyche that reacts to immediate needs and impulses.  Much of our education and acculturation is, essentially, training in not living by our ids.  Of course, your teachers, parents and other authority figures don't tell you that (unless, perhaps, they're psychologists or psychiatirists).  In my milieu, I don't think anyone had even heard of that two-letter term, just as they never used words like milieu.  I didn't hear such words until I went to college.

Because of such training, most of us will only go so far in response to being wronged.  I don't think any previous president would have assassinated the military leader of another country because, well, the leaders of their country did things we didn't like.  (And he said he was doing it to prevent a war:  Even Rudy Giuliani would have a hard time being more Orwellian!)  Likewise, most sexual abuse victims won't do what a 19-year-old in France did to the priest who sexually abused him and his father:  He rammed a crucifix down the prelate's throat.

I have retaliated with physical violence once in my life, when someone tried to sexually assault me.  I'll admit I've thought about reacting with force, but didn't, on more than a few occasions.  And I have made threatening gestures against potential aggressors--including a would-be bike thief I scared away.

I'll admit that at the moment I confronted the perp, I thought about doing what a couple in Visalia, California did. Corey Curnutt and Savannah Grillot baited would-be bike thieves with a bike planted in their front yard.  When someone tried to steal it, they rushed out and beat, with baseball bats, the person who tried to take it.

According to police, they did this four times between July and November of the past year.  I'm guessing that the vigilante couple would have been caught eventually, but they probably hastened their arrests by posting videos of their deeds on YouTube.

Now I'll confess that if I were on a jury, I really wouldn't want to vote to convict Curnutt or Grillot--or the young man in France.  But one reason why we're taught not to live by our ids is that part of our psyche is incapable of restraint.  Plus, almost every ethical and moral system of which I'm aware condemns retaliatory violence.  

All right, I'll end with one more confession:  I cheered when Thelma shot Harlan.  Then I felt ashamed of myself--just a little.  At least I knew "Don't try this at home."  

A Thief Poses As A Manager

In my time, I've heard of people who impersonated doctors, lawyers and other learned professionals.  Hey, I even recall stories about someone else who posed as a Saudi prince and a guy who managed to pass himself off as a Rockefeller relative.

But a bike shop manager?

Folks who pretend to be doctors, lawyers, princes and Rockefellers managed to bilk people out of lots of money.  But the old joke about the bike industry is that if you can get into it, you can end up with a small fortune.  How?  Start off with a big one.

Also, I have to admit that as long as medical procedures or cases aren't botched, it can be pretty funny to watch an impostor hoist on his or her own petard.  The ersatz Saudi prince did himself in when, at dinner in a fancy restaurant with a would-be investor in one of his schemes, he ordered an appetizer of prosciutto.  The phony Rockefeller's scheme ended when one of his would-be investors wondered why he, if he was a Rockefeller, he spoke with a French accent.

They lived high while their schemes lasted.  But what bike shop manager ever got to date a Playboy model or live in Mickey Rourke's house? 

So why would someone pose as a bike shop manager?  To sell stolen bikes.  

That, according to Colorado State University police, is what 23-year-old Gordon Stone was doing when they arrested him.  He took photos of  bikes parked on the Fort Collins campus and posted them on the "Let's Go" app--with the name of John Lambert, who manages the Recycled Cycles shop near the campus.  

Someone would spot the photo of, say, a GT Transeo, and because Lambert's name and Recycled Bicycles were attached to it, assume it was legitimate.  When that person expressed interest in the bike, Stone would go to the campus, cut the lock and sell the bike for a fraction of what it would cost in the shop.



Lambert found out about the scheme only when a friend texted him to ask whether he was still selling a certain bike--the Transeo--online.  "I responded with, what?" he recalls.  

He says that Stone's actions have hurt the shop's, and his, reputation.  Now that Stone has been arrested, Lambert says he may pursue defamation charges against him.  After all, the reason what do a shop and its manager have besides their reputation?