The Constables' Response Boiled Someone's Bacon

 In January, I wrote about a British judge who, in sentencing two thieves, took into account that each of the bicycles they swiped costs more than many automobiles.  His thinking on this matter is more advanced than that of just about any of his counterparts in the US, or almost any American law enforcement officer.

In that post, I also expressed the hope that his insight also includes other effects of bicycle theft on the people who lose their machines.  While I empathise with the shop owner who loses multiple bikes with five-figure price tags, like the one who was victimized by the perps the judge sentenced, similar incidents probably don't comprise the vast majority of bike thefts.  More often, I imagine, those episodes include the nurse, teacher, store employee, student or someone else who locks their bike to a street sign outside their place of work or study in the morning and returns to find said sign sans velo at the end of the day.  Those incidents also include folks whose garages, sheds or homes are broken into and who may also lose other items or cash along with their bikes.

The latter scenario unfolded in Windsor.  As in the Duke Of.  The unfortunate property owner lost a Trek Madone with a graphite-colored Land Rover and other high-monetary value items.  In response, Thames Valley police tweeted an appeal for help in finding the bike.  Their message included a description, taken from surveillance videos, of the thieves and their getaway vehicle:  a white Audi A3 with plate number GN64 XMM.  

That message "boiled my bacon," in the words of one respondent.  For one thing, that person complained about the constables heading the tweet with the title "high value burglary" so that "some resident who is very very well off for a bob or three can pull strings!"

That respondent has a point, and amplified it with this, "Yet a local fella in Caversham has his electric bike stolen while in Reading and he can ill-afford to replace it until he's saved up enough earnings, and Thames Valley Police weren't interested."

That person has a great point.  While some ride electric bikes for pleasure or to commute to school or well-paying jobs, if the situation in England is anything like it is here in New York, I imagine that the majority of electric bikes are used by delivery workers.  Most of them are immigrants who speak English not well or at all and have few, if any, marketable skills or credentials recognized in their adopted country.  Therefore, as the person who reacted to the bobbies' tweet pointed out, they either save for their machines or buy them on credit or an installment plan, whether payment arrangements are made with their employer or bike dealer.

And the student or worker who parks and loses a battered old ten- or three-speed is losing his or her means of transportation and, possibly recreation or fitness.  Such things are often more important, especially where mass transportation is spotty or unreliable and for people who may not have the spare funds to join a gym or for other recreational activities.

I think the judge I mentioned in my earlier post and whoever reacted to Thames Valley Police tweet should get together and preside over a court for bike theft!

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!

What You Can Carry Isn't Necessarily What You Can Stash

Many of us ride with cute little "bike purses" tucked under, or between, the rails of our saddles.  In them, we might carry a spare inner tube, patches, a small multi-tool and, depending on the size of the "purse", a mini-pump and/or cell phone and/or wallet. 

There are larger versions of such "purses", including "banana" bags of the kind popularized by Gilles Berthoud and others, and small versions of boxier saddle bags, like the X-Small Saddle Sack from Rivendell.

And, of course there are larger saddle bags like those from Carradice made in sizes to carry what you need for a day or weekend trip, or even camping gear. Carradice's Camper Longflap almost seems to have been an exercise in carrying as much as possible without using panniers and an expedition-style rack.

Of course, when some people ponder the question of "how much" they can carry under their saddles, they are not talking about volume in liters or cubic inches or whatever.  Instead, they are talking about "street value."

At least, that seemed to be the case for  37-year-old  Mohamed Mohmoud Charara, who lived with his parents in  Windsor, Ontario, Canada.  He kept his bike in a common stairwell area where other residents of his building kept their bikes.  It seems, though, that he wasn't using his wheels to get around the city just across the river from Detroit.  He wasn't even using it to conduct business. Instead, he serviced his clients from a black Escalade SUV parked outside the building. The bike was just for storage.

And what did he keep under the seat?  Well, when he was busted, city constables found 24.7 grams of crack cocaine and 13.2 grams of powder cocaine. Together, they had a street value of almost $3800.

The cops also seized a few things Charara couldn't keep under his bike seat, like a digital scale, other drug paraphenalia, an iPhone (well, with the right bag, he could have kept it on his bike) and $1695 cash.

What if he'd tried to use that bike as a getaway vehicle?  Would he have ended up like this guy?

How Not To Burgle

There are all sorts of things you can do on a bicycle, and I encourage most of them.  

Not included on that list is burglary.  Now, I don't recommend stealing in any circumstance, but if you must go to other people's homes and businesses and take their stuff, I don't recommend that you do it on a bicycle.

For one thing, it makes the rest of us in the cycling community look bad.

For another, in most places--at least in the US--you would be easy to identify and track down.  Bicycles are not, as yet, the preferred "getaway" vehicle for criminals.  So you would stand out as much as if you were as tall as an NBA player or wide as an NFL player.

And, even if you have a mountain or "fat" bike with studded tires, don't ride your bike in the snow to rob people's homes, stores, offices or warehouses.  Actually, I would say not to do your dirty deeds on a snowy day especially if you have a bike suited to the weather, as that would be--and make you--easier to identify.

I would have given all of the advice I've just listed to a 52-year-old Detroit-area man.  Whether he would have listened is another matter.  Since December, he's ridden his bike to and from a dozen burglaries in Motor City-area stores and gas stations.  He always struck very early in the morning, before those businesses opened for the day, and took cash, candy and cigarettes.

His image was captured on surveillance videos. But the police finally caught him after following tire tracks in the snow to a house--where, as it turned out, he'd stashed some of his booty, and himself.

Justice Pursues And Is Pursued On A Steelman

What do you do when you realize you can't achieve some youthful dream of yours?

Well, if it involved the creative or performing arts, you can teach them and, perhaps, practice them on a smaller scale or stage--say, in local theatre or gallery exhibits.  You can also teach if you wanted to be the Great American Novelist or a poet--or you can do some other kind of writing like, say, blogs (not that this one makes any money!)

Now, if your dream was an athletic pursuit, you might find a career as a coach or in one of the industries that serves the sport to which you'd devoted yourself.  Or you can keep yourself in shape and become a trainer, or go (back) to school and become a nutritionist or some other professional who helps athletes maximize their potential.

Of course, many people who don't realize dreams with long odds enter careers very different and far from the ones they'd envisioned for themselves:  They might become everything from insurance salespeople to social workers to engineers.  If nothing else, those occupations can provide long-term stability that is lacking in  most of the things we envision when we're young.

Then there are those who simply don't get over not having "made it" and drift from one thing into another--or try their hands at metiers that are dangerous, foolish or even criminal.

When he was still pursuing his dream

One would-be Olympic sprinter made a list of occupations that, he hoped, would offer him thrills or at least satisfaction for the instant gratification he got from pumping his pedals on the velodrome.  He compiled that list after--get this--washing out of the French Foreign Legion.  On the list were jobs that were dangerous, foolish (for him) or criminal.  He tried to enter a couple of them before finally settling on the last one--which was dangerous, foolish and criminal.

As for the foolish (for him), he applied to a Catholic seminary. From what I read about him, he's about as religious as I am, but it seemed, as he said, like a "fresh start."  The admissions officer, however, knew better and advised him to do some "soul searching."

As for the dangerous (and possibly foolish), he talked his way into an informational interview with the Drug Enforcement Agency.  The interviewer, like the seminary's admissions officer, quickly sussed him out: "You don't seem like the kind of guy who's going to kick down doors fighting the war on drugs."

Finally, he got involved with something illegal--ironically enough, dealing cocaine.  To finance it, he would embark on a career that was dangerous, foolish and criminal:  bank robbery.

Not surprisingly, to make his heists, he used one of the skills he honed while trying to achieve a dream of his youth.  You guessed it:  He escaped on his bicycle.  Because he could mount and take off with a burst of speed, he could ride just far enough into some alley or parking garage where the cops couldn't follow him and peel off the neat shirt,tie and slacks he'd worn into the bank. Then, in his billboard jersey and spandex shorts, and with is messenger bag slung over his shoulder, he looked like any bike messenger.  

He actually spent three years robbing and dealing before he was finally caught.  And, as was the case with many serial criminals, he was stopped because someone noticed a detail others might not have seen.

That someone was a police officer whom the rider-turned-robber eluded.  And the detail he noticed was the bicycle itself.

Officer Sean Dexter of Walnut Creek, California might not have been a bike aficionado.  But he knew that the bike--which the thief abandoned when he fled across a creek--wasn't some commuter's Schwinn.  "This bike is special to somebody," he observed.  "We gotta find out who."

It's no surprise that an Olympic aspirant and local champion would ride a bike better than the ones sold in Wal-Mart.  But the bike stood out even on the club training rides our rider-turned-robber did to keep himself in shape. It wasn't only the frame's bright orange color, or the matching deep-V rims that distinguished the machine.  It was the frame's pedigree:  custom-built by Brent Steelman.  

The getaway vehicle

Since he only built about 50 frames a year, it was relatively easy to trace the bike--even though the bank robber who was using it as his getaway vehicle bought it second hand. Dexter and other investigators followed a trail from Steelman to the shop that sold the bike to the person who ordered it and ultimately sold it to the pedaling pilferer.

Now, if it isn't ironic enough that someone was pulling bank heists on a bike built by Steel-man, the name of the racer-turned-robber seems like even more of a cosmic joke:  Tom Justice.

Maybe he should have gone to law school.  I imagine that winning a case can be quite a thrill--and lucrative.