I'd just moved to a new apartment in Chicago, one with a big wooden deck that I was very excited about. I was looking forward to biking around all summer, coming home, and sitting outside drinking a beer. It was also sheltered enough that I could lock my bike to the thick slats in the deck and not have it exposed to the elements, so I didn't have to cart it inside and get mud all over the carpet. The day after moving in, I drove to work. When I got home, part of the deck had been kicked in and my bike was gone. When I called to file a police report, the lady told me that "there's pretty much no way we'll ever find it." I don't think they even pretend to try... The incident just gets typed up and stuck into an endless row of filing cabinets, I'm sure. Bike thief wins again.
-Sarah
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Steal my bike once, shame on you. Steal my bike twice, what the F&%$K?
I will never forget this bike, not just because it was the coolest bike around, or because it was a Mongoose way before Walmart was pedaling them for discount prices, or because it had cranks and a sprocket from a 10 speed so I could pedal half as much as my friends and cover twice the distance... but because my older brother paid for each piece and built this bike from parts...and gave it to me on my 12th birthday.
Until this day my brother and I really never had the income to trade more than a comic book or mix tape made off of the radio for birthday gifts so this present meant the world to me. I kept this bike pristine and enjoyed not only riding it and jumping homemade ramps with it but I even enjoyed cleaning it and polishing it. I mean this thing was a Cadillac in a neighborhood of Pintos. That was our first problem. It stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone wanted to ride it, especially the neighborhood hoods who'll remain nameless.(and Steve G. if you're out there I have a feeling I grew way beyond your 5'5" bully of a frame, so look me up if you're not in prison).
Fast Forward, it's nearing the end of the summer and we're all looking forward to starting 7th grade. New school, new girls, new people to impress with the power and glory of the Mongoose. It's any given summer weekday and two friends and myself decide to spend it at Showbiz Pizza. Yes, we were probably a little old for this place but it was the only arcade around.
By the time we get there we're all starving and rush to get inside, not thinking to properly lock up our bikes. Again, fast forward two hours and we're leaving. We step outside into the sun, momentarily blindness set in while my eyes adjust and I swear my bike is right where I left it. Wrong, my bike is the only bike, NOT where it was originally left two hours prior. I immediately scream in a fit of rage and curse my own existence while the fear of the beating my brother is going to bestow upon me starts to come to realization. I am in sooooo much trouble right now.
I make it home through two towns riding on the pegs of another bike. The neighborhood pro skater is out in front of my house and I tell him about my bike. He assures me he knows who stole it and we devise a plan. Now, my brother is a relatively large person at 6'4" 220lb and suposedly has intimidated the entire group of bullies without actually having any sort of confrontation or contact with them. Dave places a phone call to the supposed culprit and lets him know whose bike he stole. He doesn't believe Dave. My brother then gets on the phone and politely asks to have the bike returned, all while trying to hold back laughter seeing that he had no idea of his reputation as a tough guy.
The next morning I leave the house to find my prize Mongoose sitting on my patio in as good of a condition as I had last seen it the day before. No tears were spent, no blood was drawn, not a single person got hurt and a valuable lesson was learned- always lock up your bike when you're out riding. Nobody ever mentioned to lock it up on my own patio though. Less than a month later, the Mongoose was gone again. This time my brother let me deal with it by myself, without the help of his ferocious reputation of punishing bicycle thieves and the bike has yet to be found.
- Sean
Until this day my brother and I really never had the income to trade more than a comic book or mix tape made off of the radio for birthday gifts so this present meant the world to me. I kept this bike pristine and enjoyed not only riding it and jumping homemade ramps with it but I even enjoyed cleaning it and polishing it. I mean this thing was a Cadillac in a neighborhood of Pintos. That was our first problem. It stuck out like a sore thumb and everyone wanted to ride it, especially the neighborhood hoods who'll remain nameless.(and Steve G. if you're out there I have a feeling I grew way beyond your 5'5" bully of a frame, so look me up if you're not in prison).
Fast Forward, it's nearing the end of the summer and we're all looking forward to starting 7th grade. New school, new girls, new people to impress with the power and glory of the Mongoose. It's any given summer weekday and two friends and myself decide to spend it at Showbiz Pizza. Yes, we were probably a little old for this place but it was the only arcade around.
By the time we get there we're all starving and rush to get inside, not thinking to properly lock up our bikes. Again, fast forward two hours and we're leaving. We step outside into the sun, momentarily blindness set in while my eyes adjust and I swear my bike is right where I left it. Wrong, my bike is the only bike, NOT where it was originally left two hours prior. I immediately scream in a fit of rage and curse my own existence while the fear of the beating my brother is going to bestow upon me starts to come to realization. I am in sooooo much trouble right now.
I make it home through two towns riding on the pegs of another bike. The neighborhood pro skater is out in front of my house and I tell him about my bike. He assures me he knows who stole it and we devise a plan. Now, my brother is a relatively large person at 6'4" 220lb and suposedly has intimidated the entire group of bullies without actually having any sort of confrontation or contact with them. Dave places a phone call to the supposed culprit and lets him know whose bike he stole. He doesn't believe Dave. My brother then gets on the phone and politely asks to have the bike returned, all while trying to hold back laughter seeing that he had no idea of his reputation as a tough guy.
The next morning I leave the house to find my prize Mongoose sitting on my patio in as good of a condition as I had last seen it the day before. No tears were spent, no blood was drawn, not a single person got hurt and a valuable lesson was learned- always lock up your bike when you're out riding. Nobody ever mentioned to lock it up on my own patio though. Less than a month later, the Mongoose was gone again. This time my brother let me deal with it by myself, without the help of his ferocious reputation of punishing bicycle thieves and the bike has yet to be found.
- Sean
Dreams of Retribution
The most expensive bike I've ever owned (Cannondale Bad Boy Ultra) was stolen from inside my apartment back in 2007. Oddly, they didn't take anything else. I had dreams about seeing someone on my bike, running them off the road, and getting my bike back. Sad.
- Jeffrey
- Jeffrey
Trust No-one!
I had a Schwinn Badlands (limited edition, mind you, which had an amazing front shock) stolen FROM INSIDE MY HOUSE when I was going to IU in Bloomington. We had lots of house parties so we left our doors unlocked most of the time (like idiots). I still make sure to look extra closely when I see photos of my friends on their bikes.
Trust No-one!
- Dustin
- Dustin
My Story is Super Boring
They broke the wooden rack in my apartment basement and I had to walk to class the rest of the fall.
- Cam
- Cam
You and Your Cronies Can Go Fly a Kite With a Hole in It, You Jerks.
I was out on a leisurely bike ride through a park when I saw you and your dudes roll up. I shoulda been suspicious of the two guys on one bike. It was like you took off from your thieving hideout with the specific intention to ruin an 8th grade boy’s life. I don't blame you for WANTING my bike. In fact it was a pretty dope Schwinn ten-speed and it even had a sweet U-lock mounted to it, and back in those days, you either had a wussy wire lock or you fucked off. You see, my bike had integrity. I spent many many MANY brutal hours selling gross chocolate bars to hapless suckers outside of every two-bit bingo joint, grocery store, and bowling alley just to WIN this grand prize from my school.
I bet you could tell. I bet the image of my shocked face as my name was read over the loudspeaker during social studies probably flashed through your twisted minds as you concocted your plan of attack. I didn't see it coming but then it happened. You pushed me. You pushed me right off of my prize-winning bike as I was riding it, in front of my little brother, no less (now scarred for life, mind you). And then you had the cojones to ask me if I had the key for my U-Lock.
"How dare you!" I exclaimed. "How dare you knock me off of my chocolate-bar-fueled prize-ride, causing me to muss up my Levi's in front of my brother (did I mention the scarring?)? So give me back my bike before I go bitchcakes on you and your buddies!" Do you remember me saying that? Probably not, because I didn't. I just lay there, shocked and shaking my head, "Uh no, I don't have the key." And then you took off.
And I walked home in tears.
I realize this was 20 years ago, but I believe my bike is still out there, riding proud and strong, all sugared up on some new disgusting chocolate candy of the times. Help me find it. I'm not exactly sure how it looked or what color it was so just to be safe, knock every single person off of every single bike you see for me and ask, "Is this Bob's?"
xxoo
bob
I bet you could tell. I bet the image of my shocked face as my name was read over the loudspeaker during social studies probably flashed through your twisted minds as you concocted your plan of attack. I didn't see it coming but then it happened. You pushed me. You pushed me right off of my prize-winning bike as I was riding it, in front of my little brother, no less (now scarred for life, mind you). And then you had the cojones to ask me if I had the key for my U-Lock.
"How dare you!" I exclaimed. "How dare you knock me off of my chocolate-bar-fueled prize-ride, causing me to muss up my Levi's in front of my brother (did I mention the scarring?)? So give me back my bike before I go bitchcakes on you and your buddies!" Do you remember me saying that? Probably not, because I didn't. I just lay there, shocked and shaking my head, "Uh no, I don't have the key." And then you took off.
And I walked home in tears.
I realize this was 20 years ago, but I believe my bike is still out there, riding proud and strong, all sugared up on some new disgusting chocolate candy of the times. Help me find it. I'm not exactly sure how it looked or what color it was so just to be safe, knock every single person off of every single bike you see for me and ask, "Is this Bob's?"
xxoo
bob
I Consider Throwing Rocks At Their Windows
My bike stealing story is a bit of a tear-jerker. So grab the tissues before it's too late.
As a child I had a glorious pink and purple plastic bike. I would ride it every day. Then one day around clean-up* time I left my bike under our seat on our veranda, very far away from the edge of the road (where people leave their junk piles). And someone IN MY STREET took the bike. I know they took it, because I saw my bike, sans wheels sitting on their pile for clean-up. I cried when I saw it on their pile. I was about 4 years old. That bike was my world.
The people still live in my street, 17 years later, and sometimes I consider throwing rocks at their windows when I'm walking by.
*I don't know if you guys have clean-up (C & C note: the author is from down under). It's when you get to put all your crap that you don’t regularly throw out cos it's too big (like chairs, or sofas, or broken TVs, or whatever shit around your house that you don't want really), and you put it in a pile on the side of the road at the front of your house, and the government picks it up for free. :)
Each suburb has a designated few days when it occurs, about a week before people start putting all their stuff out in a pile. People will often go around an area that has a clean-up occurring and go through the junk, sometimes if someone is moving they will put out perfectly good stuff. And as the saying goes, one man’s trash is another man's treasure!
Unfortunately someone took something from my house that was not on the pile, it was nowhere near the pile. It was in off the street by like 50 metres, at least.
- Jebbie
As a child I had a glorious pink and purple plastic bike. I would ride it every day. Then one day around clean-up* time I left my bike under our seat on our veranda, very far away from the edge of the road (where people leave their junk piles). And someone IN MY STREET took the bike. I know they took it, because I saw my bike, sans wheels sitting on their pile for clean-up. I cried when I saw it on their pile. I was about 4 years old. That bike was my world.
The people still live in my street, 17 years later, and sometimes I consider throwing rocks at their windows when I'm walking by.
*I don't know if you guys have clean-up (C & C note: the author is from down under). It's when you get to put all your crap that you don’t regularly throw out cos it's too big (like chairs, or sofas, or broken TVs, or whatever shit around your house that you don't want really), and you put it in a pile on the side of the road at the front of your house, and the government picks it up for free. :)
Each suburb has a designated few days when it occurs, about a week before people start putting all their stuff out in a pile. People will often go around an area that has a clean-up occurring and go through the junk, sometimes if someone is moving they will put out perfectly good stuff. And as the saying goes, one man’s trash is another man's treasure!
Unfortunately someone took something from my house that was not on the pile, it was nowhere near the pile. It was in off the street by like 50 metres, at least.
- Jebbie
Thursday, August 27, 2009
"YOU STOLE MY BIKE TWO YEARS AGO!!!!"
When I was 14 I went to a party at my friend Paul's house. I rode my bike over there and ditched it in the bushes outside his front door where it could hide from street view. The night went on and when it was time for me to leave, my bike was GONE! There were so many people there I didn't know what had happened to it and was severely bummed out that it got stolen. I thought maybe someone took it thinking it was Paul's as a joke. I walked home broken hearted.
Two years later TWO YEARS! I was in the car with my sister and I saw a man riding my bike. I did not know this man, he looked like a bum. I knew it was my bike from the messed up upside-down handle bars I had broken, and the stickers I had placed along its frame. But most importantly I knew it in my heart. I rolled down the window and yelled out "YOU STOLE MY BIKE TWO YEARS AGO!!!!" and the man just waved, he waved! What kind of bike stealing hobo does that.
To this day I will never forget that bike stealing hobo. I've told this story to friends and have even brought up the memory of the incident with my friend Paul. Once night I made up a song bout my stolen bike that I like to sing from time to time.
-Mallory
Two years later TWO YEARS! I was in the car with my sister and I saw a man riding my bike. I did not know this man, he looked like a bum. I knew it was my bike from the messed up upside-down handle bars I had broken, and the stickers I had placed along its frame. But most importantly I knew it in my heart. I rolled down the window and yelled out "YOU STOLE MY BIKE TWO YEARS AGO!!!!" and the man just waved, he waved! What kind of bike stealing hobo does that.
To this day I will never forget that bike stealing hobo. I've told this story to friends and have even brought up the memory of the incident with my friend Paul. Once night I made up a song bout my stolen bike that I like to sing from time to time.
-Mallory
I Hate You, Bike Thief!!!
Hey Internet, this is Charlie and Colleen. We work at Threadless. A few weeks ago, a ridiculously amazing design came across our computer machines. “Missing!!!” by Julian Glander not only made us all giggle like a bunch of stoners, it also inspired this here blog. Just admire it for a sec:
Julian based this tee shirt design on a real-life story. In his words: "'MISSING' started out as an actual flyer that I put up around my dorm when my bike was “stolen” earlier this year... Later, I found out it had been towed because I chained it to a fence with a "no bikes" sign on it. Whoops!"
Here's the original flyer:
Even though Julian got hoodwinked by some crazy sign-posting people and not a bike thief, we think his anger still raged on inside him. I mean, why else would he make his flyer into a tee design?
Send Us Your Stories!!!
Given the unfortunate attitude of certain disgraceful people in this world, namely BIKE THIEVES AND THEIR THEIVEIRR-YING WAYS, we’re starting a GLOBAL PHENOMENON OF ILL WILL.
Join us in our campaign against these criminal fools and send us your stories in any form - video, pictures, or just your own words - at ihateyoubikethief@gmail.com. We'll post your story here. And if you get really inspired, create your very own poster against these two-wheelin’ villains and send it our way.
JOIN I HATE YOU BIKE THIEF DOT YOU SHOULD BE PUT IN JAIL SO YOUR SHIFTY LIMBS ROT DOT BY THE WAY YOUR MOM IS UGLY DOT COM!
So uhh just to reiterate, send pics, stories, and videos our way to ihateyoubikethief@gmail.com
Join us in our campaign against these criminal fools and send us your stories in any form - video, pictures, or just your own words - at ihateyoubikethief@gmail.com. We'll post your story here. And if you get really inspired, create your very own poster against these two-wheelin’ villains and send it our way.
JOIN I HATE YOU BIKE THIEF DOT YOU SHOULD BE PUT IN JAIL SO YOUR SHIFTY LIMBS ROT DOT BY THE WAY YOUR MOM IS UGLY DOT COM!
So uhh just to reiterate, send pics, stories, and videos our way to ihateyoubikethief@gmail.com
Missing!!! Locations
Here's some "MISSING!!!" postings from around the globe. Our GLOBAL PHENOMENON OF ILL WILL has begun! We’re giving you a chance to turn that dark hate into something fluffy and nice. Ask us nicely and we’ll send you poster versions of Julian’s amazing design so you can put them up around your town/city/burg and get wonderous StreetTeam points towards new Threadless stuff. Request "MISSING!!!" fliers to ihateyoubikethief@gmail.com
West Palm Beach
Portland
London
Chicago
Brooklyn
Philly
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