Some people say you can't officially call yourself a Vancouverite until you've had your bike stolen.
Well guess who's officially a Vancouverite now?!?!
Yesterday, I had my bike stolen from inside my apartment building. Now, I'm left feeling that yucky mixture of anger, sadness and frustration.

That bike was a gift from the lovely people at Giant Bicycles. I still remember the day Andrew (from Giant) rolled that bike into the radio station for me. I was so happy, I almost cried. Over the years, that bike became one of my most prized possessions. I ended up adding a rear carrier to it so that my aging pup could join me while I pedaled around the city. Seeing Maslow with his tongue hanging out while I rode by always made people smile. Both Maz and I genuinely loved that bike.

So here's the deal.
I have to accept that it's gone. It sucks, but that's just the way it is.
Here's what I hope for:

I hope the person who ends up with my bike is someone who sincerely needed a bike.
I hope that if the person who ends up with my bike is struggling financially, they end up getting the bike for next to nothing.
I hope that bike goes to someone who may have been having a bad day/week/month/year and that it brings them a tiny bit of joy.

I hope the person who stole my bike is someone who may have really needed the money for something good or important.
I hope the thief ends up selling/giving the bike to someone who might be 'down on their luck'.
I know it may sound ridiculous or naive, but I hope the person who stole my bike decides that my bike will be the last bike they ever steal.
If none of the above happens, I hope that the person/people who stole my bike end up with some sort of flesh eating disease and genital warts.

Goodbye bike. You were awesome and you'll be truly missed.

Besos,

CC.
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