A TRUE STORY THAT WILL BLOW YOUR FUCKING MINDS. (for any and all that have had their bicycles stolen)

it started, as many great stories do, at the bookstore.
i had been in there for 2 1/2 hours.
surprising? no.
excessive. Of course.
i had finally decided to spend my christmas gift certificate, walked out with books in my bag, spring in my step, glee in my future, and.... MY BICYCLE WAS GONE.
FUCKING GONE.
i stood in front of the empty bike rack for at least 4 minutes in (yes, i know more than a few of you have been there) UTTER DESPAIR.

i was off to meet jp for hot chocolate, and there was nothing to be done. i walked along richmond, up some little street past spadina towards queen, called jamie to arrange getting my old gary fisher back which i had loaned him, Burst into Tears, and then kept walking.

queen and bathurst. i'm about 20 steps from the lights and someone rides by me.

ON MY FUCKING BICYCLE.

i'm SO not kidding.
but i'm also, at this point, in shock, in tears, and not all that positive about anything.

i run up behind him...all i can think is be quiet and don't move fast. i reach his side, the light turns green, he puts his foot on the pedal, and i put my hand on his arm.
s: "excuse me..."
sob (that's Son Of a fucking Bitch to the uninitiated):"WHAT?" he says.
i grasp his arm firmer, swing around to the front of the bike, see the skull sticker.
s: "HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK YOU ARE ON MY BICYCLE." he starts biking, sort of, not really, but my hand is on his arm and i'm not letting go.
"You're on my bicycle GET OFF my bicycle"
sob: "what do ya mean, man, i just bought this bike off someone up the street for 40 bucks"
s: "i don't give a shit man, this is my bicycle and i'm not letting go of you, i'm going to call the cops, it's registered, i have the serial number, and IT'S MMMMYYY BICYCLE".
we're standing in the middle of bathurst street and the light has turned red again but he won't get off.
sob: "I WANT MY MONEY BACK I PAID 40 BUCKS FOR THIS BIKE" he howls.
s: "we're gonna walk across this street so we don't get run over, and you're gonna get Off my bicycle or i'm gonna call the cops!"
we cross, he's still on it, we stand for another two minutes or so and finally he says "Fine, take the fucking bike, can i at least have my light back?"

s: "i don't care WHAT you do with your light and if you want your 40 bucks i can probably cough it up, AFTER you get off my bike."

so he's off, i'm holding my bike now, i'm holding his arm, and i say (truthfully) "i don't know if i even have 40 bucks" (i confess i was in such Utter shock that i was ready to fork it over...i mean, Really. MY bike or 40$? i know what my priorities are)
to which he looked at me for a minute and said "forget it, i'm gonna go get my money back from that guy" and runs off down the street.

(chuckle) "that guy" yeah Right. "that guy."
SON of a BITCH.

and as i bike off i realize that, tho' the s.o.b took the fenders off it in some lame attempt to make it inconspicuous, he left his rear flasher on before booking.
so.

i would think, sitting here now, that i dreamt it all in my mind of constant chaos and delusion, but, i now have my bike (hovering quite snugly behind me) a new rear light, no more fenders, and a conspicuous absence of lock.

friends, citizens, bike lovers amongst you THIS REALLY HAPPENED.

for those of you who've lost a bike in this city, this is for you all.
just know that there is Some justice.

for those of you who had the privilege in days gone by of seeing (or filming :) ) "teef", in which i played a character enacting the very same trauma, here it is. (albeit without the tighty whities and the goggles.)
art IMITATES life? HAH.

a caveat to you all, the moral of my story even, before i bid you fond adieu: NEVER leave your bike at richmond and john for any length of time unless you have a small team of mafia bodyguards to watch it.

later, all.
stef