Once again, my outrageous fortune–which swings between good and bad–came into the fore again yesterday when I went out to get one of my bikes for a ride and was greeted by the sight I never expected to see. It was my GS Astuto bike, but one that had been stolen almost four months ago, and now, here it was, lying in the exact same place from where it had been taken!
A few accessories like bags, the tool kit and the massive chain that had locked the bike up were gone.
But otherwise, it was functioning almost perfectly; the sole flaw being that the disc brakes that were crucial to me building the bike were a bit loose. I can’t fix them as arthritic hands have robbed me of any hand strength, so I took them to a local bike shop, simulatenously thanking its proprieter for his help when the bike was stolen and triumphantly reporting its return.
I reported the bike’s return to the cops, my cycling fellowship, neighbors and friends who had helped when the bike got pinched. I was absolutely delighted.
Getting on the treadly this morning, I flew down the road with immense joy, racking up a high average speed as I hit the riverside track. That didn’t last too long, though, as the massive skinfolds I have built up over the past few years with my burgeoning weight and faffing around trying to find a good spot to take photos came into play. But it was extremely joyful, even though I now have to deal with the first-world problem of trying to find space for all my bikes.
