They Got A McCoy, But Not The Real Burglar

I'm almost never an "early adopter" when it comes to technology.  Two years after getting an iPhone, I'm still adapting to--and sometimes resisting--it.  Some features are nice, but there are some functions I rarely, if ever use.  In fact, I keep some of them turned off.

One of those features is the tracking device.  Sometimes I'll use it to help me find directions and, I suppose, if I were lost or in some sort of emergency, it might help me to find my way or for someone to find me.  But I think it's just creepy that my whereabouts could be known at all times.

Actually, it's more than creepy.  It can be disruptive, even dangerous.  That's something Zachary McCoy of Gainesville, Florida learned the hard way.

Zachary McCoy

He'd been using RunKeeper to track his cycling as Google location services were activated on his Android phone.  During one ride nearly a year ago, he passed by the same house three times in the space of an hour.

It just happened that the house was the scene of a burglary.

Google shared this location data.  It wasn't enough for law enforcement officials to identify him personally, at least not immediately.  

But he would later receive an e-mail from Google's legal investigation team, notifying him that local police made a request for information from his account.  The company explained that it would release the data unless he went to court to block it--and that he had seven days to do so.  "I didn't know what it was about, but I knew the police wanted to get something from me," McCoy recalled in a recent interview. "I was afraid I was going to get charged with something, I don't know what."  

He had no previous record, and there police had no reason--other than the data from Google--to suspect him.  His lawyer, Caleb Kenyon, criticized the police for making their decision based on a hunch rather than traditional policing techniques. "This geoforce warrant effectively casts a blind net backwards in time, hoping to ensnare a burglar," Kenyon said.  "This concept is akin to the plotline in many a science fiction film featuring a dystopian, facist government."

Later, the police in Florida withdrew the original location request, claiming that new details emerged that led them to believe that McCoy was not the real culprit.  They would not, however, share what those details were.  

In any event, this incident shows us how far some law enforcement officials will go, and what methods--however flawed--they will use to track down a suspect, even if he or she is potentially innocent. It also begs the question of how things might have turned out for a guy who was riding his bike and minding his own business if he couldn't afford a lawyer and defend himself in court.

Oh, and it reaffirms my commitment to cycling without electronic devices.

 

Leaving A Trail--And A Mystery--Where The Buffalo Roam

Here is something neither I, nor anyone else who lives in my part of the world, has had to do this year:  explain tire tracks in the snow.

We've had very little of the white stuff this winter.  The only real storm, if you can call it that, left us with about two inches--which disappeared within a couple of days--in the middle of January.  There have been a couple of other minor snowfalls; as a result, this season's total has been a mere 4.8 inches, according to the National Weather Service.  That's more than a foot below average, and it means this winter has been the least snowy in 13 years.

While much of Wyoming has received less-than-normal snowfall this winter, the difference between this season and a typical one hasn't been as great, in most parts of the Buffalo State, as it has been in New York.  That is why one man found himself stranded in Sheridan--almost.

He'd gone to visit a rancher friend.  He phoned his wife to say they were going to Sheridan to "pick up a few parts" for his old pickup truck.  Apparently, the store didn't close until 2 am.  His wife was not pleased.

The next morning, a snowstorm raged.  He realized that he'd left his truck downtown, after riding back with his friend.  He pondered asking his wife for a ride, but thought better of it when he realized he could take his bicycle down from the hooks in the ceiling and pump up the tires in no time.  

He left a trail of weaving tracks on the road--and his co-workers wondering why he was covered  with snow and his pants and shoes were so wet.

"No big deal," Rick mumbled on his way to his office.
 

He Was Sitting On Quite The Collection

Some thieves are professionals.  You might say stealing is their job, or even their career.   They might end up in that line of work out of circumstance, for a lack of other options.  Or they may have a compulsion or proclivity.  

(Is someone born to be a thief?  Has anyone ever taken a Myers-Briggs test and learned that he or she is best suited to a life of taking other people's stuff?)

Then there are those who steal to support themselves or others, or habits or hobbies.   That type of crook sometimes changes his or her ways, whether from  a change in life circumstances or getting busted.

Finally, there are the ones whose pilferage is focused on a particular item or category of goods.  They may start off by taking something for their own use or to sell but, for whatever reasons, stealing that specific thing becomes an obsession.

That last category of thieves includes 57-year-old Hiroaki Suda.  A security video showed him taking two seats at a train station and parking lot for bicycles in Higashiosaka, just east of Osaka, Japan.  That led to his arrest on 13 February.  

While admitting to the charges, he told police he'd been stealing bicycle seats for "about 25 years" to "relieve stress at work."  "Gradually," he said, "collecting them turned out to be fun."

How many did he collect? 5800.  At least, that's how many Osaka prefecture police seized from a storage facility Suda rented. 

I'd like to know what's in that collection.  Are there any long-since-discontinued Brooks or special-edition Ideale saddles?  Perhaps there's something from a Japanese maker whose wares were never exported.  Or something made from an exotic material. 

As for his motivation:  Somehow I don't think any therapist has recommended stealing bike seats as a way to relieve work-related stress.

Cheap Jeep?

I recall seeing a Jeep full-suspension mountain bike about fifteen years ago.  It sold for $300.  I thought the price was about $299 too high:  It looked like a lot of cheap Chinese-made bikes sold in big-box stores.

Now, I have no experience with actual Jeeps.  I am sure, however, that the company had nothing to do with manufacturing the bikes and little, if anything, to do with designing it.  It seemed that lending its name to a line of crappy bikes was a cynical ploy to cash in on customers' loyalty to the brand.  

To be fair, Jeep isn't the first company to do such a thing.  Nor will it be the first auto-maker to try to  cash in on the latest trend in cycling:  e-bikes.

The company debuted its first electric bicycle yesterday.  Micah Toll reviewed it for Electrek.  Having no experience with e-bikes, I can't comment on his comparisons with other companies' models.  What I found amusing, however, is his umbrage at the price:  $5899.

That is a lot more expensive than some other e-bikes on the market.  But it's actually a good bit less expensive than, not only other e-bikes, but some non-electric, non-motorized bikes offered by some other companies that also peddle (pun intended) eBikes.  I am talking about Specialized and Santa Cruz, two of the best-known names in the mountain bike world.  Their eBikes cost a good bit more than Jeep's--but less than their top-of-the line mountain bikes, and less yet than Specialized's high-end road bikes.

Don't Worry: You Look Fine!

I once knew a woman who wouldn't ride a bike because she was afraid that it would "mess up" her hair.

I don't know where she got that idea.