Last week my bike was stolen. So was my co-worker鈥檚. So was my friend鈥檚. It sucks and I鈥檝e had a lot of feels about it.
When I first noticed it missing, I was in shock. Did I lock my bike up in another location and forget? (Amnesia runs in my family.) Was I dreaming? Nope. I was livid. How did they break through my brand new $70 Kryptonite U-lock? Oh look, they didn鈥檛. They broke the wooden banister of the stair railing I had locked my bike to, and took my bike 鈥� lock and all.
At first I berated myself for having not locked my bike in a more or to a sturdier post. I made my bike an easy target. However, I rather quickly realized that was victim-blaming. In fact, it鈥檚 not my fault my bike was stolen. I deserve better. I deserve to be able to lock my bike up (thus signalling it鈥檚 not free for the taking) and not have it stolen.
That morning, I was late to work at Westender, where I write this very cycling column. I documented my tragedy on Twitter, got off the bus and stomped over to the office. It was a cold morning, and along the way I noticed two people huddled together and sleeping in an alcove. My heart sun and I breathed a sigh of resignation. My problems are small, I thought. I can afford to replace my bike, and I have a home to return to at the end of day.
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This is my waiting-for-the-bus face
鈥� Tessa Vikander (@TessaVikander)
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This is my bus face.
鈥� Tessa Vikander (@TessaVikander)
And so, I counted my blessings. At least I tried to. I told everyone at the office about my misfortune. I mentioned to a colleague that I was just grateful for everything I do have, and he kindly replied 鈥淵eah, but aren鈥檛 you at least still angry that your bike was stolen?鈥�
Bless his heart, for reminding me that even when you鈥檙e privileged, it鈥檚 still OK to feel angry when someone steals your bike.
I filed a police report and marked my bike as 鈥楳issing鈥� on the online bike registration program.
On a systemic level, I understand property theft as someone鈥檚 way of surviving capitalism. I understand what survival crimes are, and I鈥檓 going to hazard a guess that the person living off of the resale of my bike isn鈥檛 rolling in dough. Bike theft, however, has to be one of the shittiest ways of surviving capitalism. I鈥檇 rather have my phone, camera or jewelry stolen. When you steal someone鈥檚 bike you鈥檙e taking away that person鈥檚 mobility and freedom. Plus, I know many cyclists who bike because it鈥檚 cheaper than busing, and who can鈥檛 afford to replace a stolen bicycle.
A few days later a friend (a single parent who bikes their four-year-old around the city) contacted me to say their bike had also been stolen. 鈥淒o you want to go to Main and Hastings with me, to see if anyone is selling our bikes on the street?" they asked. "My friends have had some luck buying their bikes back.鈥�
Authorities recommend you not buy your bike back, or try to retrieve it on your own. But if I was already offering a $100 reward for the return of my bike, why not just pay that amount to whomever I saw with it on the street? The alternative would be to call the cops on the person I see selling my bike. But then what? The person is arrested, charged, and some day thrown in jail for their mounting petty crimes. Then, they鈥檙e discharged, unable to find work with a criminal record, and return to crime.
If I call the cops on them, I鈥檓 participating in the prison industrial complex. If I buy my bike back, I鈥檓 perpetuating the stolen bike 鈥渋ndustry.鈥�
It鈥檚 a losing situation either way, and, regardless, I didn鈥檛 find my bike.
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Has your bike been stolen? Did you get it back? Follow on Twitter, email [email protected], or use #viciouscycleyvr to share your biking woes.
