post-traumatic bike disorder.

it's two days later and i still can't believe my own stolen bike experience.
i have to say,
dear reader(s), my account of it sounds Much more heroic than it
was....i was completely uneloquent, to be frank: holding the guy's arm
with one hand and my bike handlebars with another, and just repeating
"this is my bicycle GET OFF my bicycle" over and over again. i think
the only reason he didn't just kick me and ride off is we were both in
COMPLETE shock and he was a bit of a dishevelled ratbag, who obviously
just got lucky when he managed to break the lock in the first place.

but it happened. i have my bicycle still, when at 8pm sunday night it
was but a fond memory.

what a Weird thing. suddenly "stuff" (in this case, a red bike light)
takes on so much significance, 'coz it's the only proof i have that
anything at all happened. that and my missing fenders, but, they
could well have been removed and the bike left untouched.
material nostalgia is suddenly a very real thing to me.

if a tree fell in the forest and then disappeared, was there ever
really a tree?

i was up 'til 4 am sunday night shaking with disbelief.

of course now i'm touting around Both my u-locks which weigh more than
the bicycle itself. (grrr)