Our bikes were there. Innocently.

When we returned, I breathed a sigh of relief. Our bikes were still there. Frame. Two wheels.

I always have trepidation about riding my bike downtown and locking it up, especially during the evening…when it seemed that the thieves appear from the woodwork.

As I was locking my bike earlier, I thought about racial profiling re: bike theives. And I thought about how I would look if I walked around with a bolt cutter. Would anybody stop me or would they come over and help?

But when did we return, I struggled with my lock because I somehow had it twisted between our bikes. A friend just happened to walk by and I joked, “I thought that you were going to stop us from stealing bikes.”

As she walked away, we noticed that something was amiss. Our brakes were extremely misaligned. The wheel lock for Chris’ rear wheel was lifted.

Someone was doing something. But whatever happened, they decided not to complete.

Was it because I had made a mess with the locks and had jammed it sideways? Was it because my bike had really awkward fenders? Was it because Chris had put two locks on his bike? And why didn’t they steal my rear wheel which was not locked? Was it because the locks made it a human puzzle to get anything out?

Whatever the case, it’s not the traffic of San Francisco, it’s not the dangerous MUNI rails…it’s the fact that bikes (and its parts) are stolen so frequently that deters me from riding my bike everywhere. After all, on the street, there are only a few things of value: cash, drugs, and bikes.

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