Someone Stole My Bicycle


Someone Stole 

My Bicycle

At the Skytrain Station (Surrey Central)





Someone Stole My Bicycle 

At the Skytrain Station (Surrey Central)

Surrey Central Skytrain Station
I've lost my faith in my fellow man.
Not that I wasn't warned.
Everyone said I was stupid.
"Don't leave your bike at any Skytrain Station 
it could get stolen!"
The bike rack out in the open, in plain view 
At night no wonder no bikes are parked there.
Well,

My Bike
If I ever, ever, 
see someone riding my $800 used bike
I feel sorry for them.

If it's a man, I'll push him off the bike.
(I don't know what I would do if it were a woman.)
I'll push him to the ground, 
and grind his face in the pavement.
I'll kick him until he's unrecognizable.
Then, I'd stomp on his wretched body 
till there's no life left.
Then I'd spit on him.
Then I'd ride off into the sunset, 
happily to have found my bike.
Finally, getting it back.

Does that sound a little too severe?
Well, that's how I felt yesterday.
I've calmed down since.

Okay maybe I won't spit on him (or her).
The whole problem arose...

Let me start from the beginning.
Two days ago.

I usually ride my bike to the Skytrain Station. 
The Gateway or the Surrey Central Station.
Today it was Surrey Central.
Making sure the thick wire goes also through the seat, back wheel, and the frame of the bike.  
I lock it up to the bike rack. Out in public view.
Test the lock, as I normally do.
 I re-check it again. 
Then again.
Perfect.  
I go up the escalator.

I take the Skytrain downtown.
I go about my business.
I take the Skytrain back, like I usually do.
I'm gone a total of an hour and a half.
I'm back.

I'm walking down the stairs.  
I look down at the bike rack.
MY BIKE!  I SCREAMED.
A few people looked at me, oddly.
I didn't care.
I rush, pushing people out of my way.
"Sorry," I say to a little old Chinese lady 
who almost falls down the stairs, 
My bike. It's gone!
I LOOK AROUND.
Gone.
I walk to the corner.
I walk back.
I walk to the corner
I walk back.
Nothing.
I see a Transit Cop Car parked across the street.
It's empty, I look around for him.
I go back up the escalator.
I can't find him.
No one, not even a security or a cleaning person.
Not one, not one Translink employee.
Someone with a microphone, anyone. 
Anyone wearing blue!
No one.
I took the escalator back down to the bike rack.
Nothing.
I walked from Surrey Central to Gateway.
Through skid row, scary if walking. 
(not recommended)

They gawked at me, 
they knew what I was looking for. 
Spare change, hey buddy, got a smoke?
I gawked back. "I don't smoke" I grumbled.
"Get out of my way I'm on a mission."
Checking each bicyclist on the way, ready to pounce.
Breathing hard.

Got to Gateway.
Stopped and asked a cop in a ghost car, what I should do.
"Do you know the serial number?" he said, eyeing me suspiciously.
I said, "No" then added "It's red."
Thinking that might help.

"File a police report!" That's all they could do.  
If they found one 
similar to the description I gave them. 
Red. Two wheels.
They would call.

I'm home, now.
No serial number, No police report. 
It's two days later.

I've learnt my lesson.

Don't think just because you've locked your bike, 
out in the open surrounded by dozens of people, 
workers standing nearby, and a police presence, (usually) 
that it will be there when you get back.

These are desperate times.
I've lost my trust in my fellow human beings.

Which raises the question????

If Translink wants people to take the Skytrain, 
why not supply a safe place at each station 
where people take there bikes, 
lock them up and use the system, 
without having to worry 
that it will be there when they return.

I walked all the way home that day.  
My feet were killing me.
I'm sixty-two and two miles is a long way.
God help the poor soul that needed to steal my bike.

Now, I'll give him the benefit of doubt.
Maybe he needed it to sell, to feed his family.

Then, I thought of all garbage I passed,
all the makeshift tents, the blankets, 
the shopping carts.
The dark eyes, the hopelessness, their situation.
 The tweekers, the schizoids, the tattooed teens.

Yes, hopefully my bike has done some good.
At least I'm hoping.

Dog Brindle



No comments: