I’m sad to say that, since yesterday around 6 p.m., I have not.
The worst thing about the fact that Pinkie is gone is that if I had used my bike lock regularly, she’d probably still be here. I store my bike in a secluded area next to my condo, under a stairway that can’t be seen from the parking lot several yards away, and pretty much all winter I had left her there unlocked. Stupid, I know, but since she was not especially stylish, expensive or old enough to be vintage her value was mostly sentimental, and the only people who use this stairway are my neighbors and their friends. Bikes are not exactly hot property around Nashville, and they’d be lucky to get $100 for her at a pawnshop or on craigslist, so why would anyone go to the trouble? Or at least that’s what I would say to people when they expressed shock that I didn’t lock her up every single night, until my aunt made me realize how sad I’d be if Pinkie was stolen, even with the Batavus on the way. With the weather turning warmer, I thought it would be a good idea to start locking her up regularly again.
For the past week, I’d gone back to chaining her to the stair railing, but it hadn’t yet become a habit and last night I was running late to meet friends and forgot to lock her up after our trip to Kroger. When I got home at 1 a.m., she wasn’t under the stairs waiting for me. I have been sick about it ever since.
It’s disturbing to think that someone low enough to steal a bike was prowling around in front of my house sometime Saturday night. But it’s even worse to think that I just gave something I’ve had since I was 10 away to someone like that. Especially given the economy, I suppose $100 would be worth the risk for someone. I am so embarrassed and angry with myself for having been so careless and naive, especially after Dottie’s break in, but I am admitting this mistake so that someone else won’t make the same one. I know I won’t.