At the opening of the deYoung
I parked my beloved ibis mojo in front of the deYoung Museum for a day of professional development today, only to find nothing left but the krypto-lock cable cut clean and lying on the floor.
As if reeling from a dream, I first spoke to the security guards, whose reaction was “Damn, I have a lock just like that! I need to get me a new one!” They suggested I go directly to the police station. As it was 5 blocks away, I resolved to walk back home and drive back to the Richmond side, which was the nearest station in the area. It was getting dark fast, and my heart started to accept the reality of the situation. The officer was nice enough, but from his routine response, I doubt my bike will show up again.
I am going to be hurting for some time. I can’t even think of replacing my only mountain bike. For those of you who ride, especially who have a favorite trail ride, you’ll understand what I’m feeling. I always made sure I spent some miles on it every so often even when I was doing training for century rides. A mountain bike is a soul-mate for those endless climbs, a guide through the hairiest descents.
I’ll try remembering the good times we had. They’ve stolen my bike, but they haven’t taken the heart that still aches to get back on these beautiful trails!