remember my beloved bike neptune/petunia (she/he had a gender complex)?
well, this is what is left of her.
yup, a bunch of no-good ragamuffins stole my dusty-pink and turquoise steed late on friday night. i stepped out my apartment early saturday, and confusedly looked towards my usual parking spot with concern. i don’t wear my glasses like i should and found it really odd that there was only one wheel attached to my usual locking pole. i passed it off as bad eye sight that needed to be checked and got my keys out to unlock what i hoped was the rest of my bike.
nope. just the remnants of a bike, my now ironic forty dollar bike lock, a sinking feeling in my stomach, and a deep need to get new glasses.
i never thought i would be the type of person who would get so attached to an inanimate object. i also never thought i’d be the type of person who would openly sob on the subway on the way to work, feeling more than a little defeated over a stolen bike. there’s a first thing for everything i suppose.
i had grown attached to my 7:30 am strolls past m.i.t. feeling like you’re swimming through the air is something i always looked forward each morning.
it was liberating. it was cold as eff most of the time. i became a mackenz-sicle most days. and it involved me being close to being run over more than a few times. but i loved it. i loved the yelling of words a lady really shouldn’t yell at people who didn’t know how to use turn signals. i loved feeling cute and pretty badass every time i saddled up on my ridiculously multicolored bike. i loved knowing that i didn’t have to spend hours each week trying not to stare at people on the subway.
so, to the ruffian who stole my bike. i hope your street cred grows exponentially, as i’m sure only a bright pink bike with turquoise handlebars can do. and i hope you ride the rest of my bike into a reallydeep, dark ditch filled with jagged bike wheels.
because i’m all about irony.