Missing: One Blissful, Shiny-Blue Girl Bike
“How do donuts sound?” I whispered to Madeleine this morning as we snuggled in bed, just our faces showing over the covers. “Great!” she whispered back, eyes shining. I tried to entice her to come with me to the store, but she smiled her decline. “Why don’t I just stay here in bed until you get back?”
I pull on yesterday’s jeans, Dave’s yummy gray sweater and stumble down the stairs and out the back door to my bike. Only my bike isn’t there. I’m in the habit of locking it up since things get stolen in my neighborhood all the time, but I must have forgotten the night I rode back from Addis Ababa with our takeout dinner. Damn. I feel like someone cut my right arm off and then took a little piece of my heart while they were at it. I ride my bike like some people practice religion–every day, with all my heart.
I walked into Takoma Bikes on a lovely Saturday last spring, thinking I would just look at bikes. I had my first big paycheck from a writing job and I wanted to spend it ceremoniously. I was thinking I might buy a cheap mountain bike for a $150 bucks and send the rest to bills. One glance around the bike shop and I realized that I clearly had no idea what a good bike costs. I was about to walk out when this beauty caught my eye. Shiny, sparkly blue, big squishy tires. It was the girliest bike I had ever laid eyes on. I felt pangs of old age and immediate guilt about leaving the potential fitness of my former mountain bike days behind, but I asked the cool biker sales guy about it anyway, feeling all shy.
“I don’t know what it is. Chicks just dig that bike. I can’t keep ‘em in the store.” It was the best thing he could have said. I wasn’t old, no sirree. I was just one of the chicks who thought this bike was the best thing ever.
After an hour long walk around Takoma, speed-dialing various sisters in hopes of finding someone to help me justify such a decadent purchase, I took the first money I ever made as writer and became the proud owner of the K2:Nine Breeze. I’ve never been so happy in my life.
My joy must have been apparent to the entire universe because when I rode my shiny new bike up and down the streets of Silver Spring that Saturday afternoon, it seemed to me that all the drivers yielded the right-of-way with good humor usually reserved for puppies and pre-schoolers. I thought it must just be me, projecting my happiness on everyone I met, but then on the way back home up the hill, an older African gentleman stopped working in his yard to smile and admire. “So you got a new bike!” he said in a dignified French accent, waving me on my way. I positively sparkled.
From that day on, I used every excuse imaginable to ride my bike. I’d go up and down my street, sometimes a couple of times a day, running every kind of errand, waving to neighbors along the way. I was so happy. To make the whole thing more miraculous, almost everytime I rode my bike, the guys out and about in my neighborhood would see me coming and nod their approval. The first time it happened, I didn’t know what to do. I was sitting on my bike, waiting for the light to turn. “Looking good!” some cute hip hop looking guy in a car called out with a nod. “Who, me?” my face asked as I looked all around. “Yeah, you, baby–on the bike!” he said laughing. I was so thankful in my severe housewifery state to still be noticed by random men on the street, I could have kissed him. And someone said something almost everyday! Like the adorable man with the perfect dreads who said, “I’m sorry, baby” when I almost ran into him or the tall skinny kid who called out smiling, “Girl! I LIKE your BIKE!” as I went zooming past. Even the women my age looked at me in a kind of wonder. “Could I do that?” their eyes asked, taking in my childlike delight.
I decided the bike was magic. Whole sentences came to me on that bike. It was the equivalent of five good soaks in the tub, a dinner at a fine restaurant and lying perfectly still in tall grass looking at a clear blue sky. Riding that bike felt like perfect poetry.
“Why don’t you go to the police station?” Dave says gently, knowing how terrible I feel about forgetting to lock it up. “You shouldn’t have to lock something on your own patio, babe. Just go. Maybe they can help.”
I drive the streets for awhile first, wondering who could have taken it and why. Usually when something gets stolen, I think of it as some kind of forced sharing. Like you needed something really bad, and that if I just knew the reason I would have given it to you myself first. Who would have I have given my bike to? I ask myself, as I wander up and down our alleys, looking for any sign of my shiny blue happiness.
Maybe I would be willing to give it to someone who needed to remember what life was like in sixth grade before everything fell apart. Or someone with a kid who hasn’t smiled in forever. Or maybe someone who saw me riding my bike and who got attached to the idea that everything would work out–if only they could ride my bike just one time and feel for one second that happy, that free.
October 22nd, 2006 at 2:34 pm
well, that just sucks.
October 22nd, 2006 at 2:55 pm
Hi Jen,
I’m a reader of Faith@Work-a new reader. I really enjoy your insights and figured that anyone who is a doula, artist and writer for a faith magazine had to have a blog. lol So, into google went your name and here you are.
I’m so sorry to hear about your bike. I hope it is somehow magically returned to you.
Your blog is lots of fun and I look forward to a good look around.
I recently attended a retreat with Marjory Bankson and it has helped restore a spiritual questioning in me that I thought was gone forever. As long as I am questioning, I’m a happy camper. Perhaps it is my call to question.
It’s very nice to find your site here. I hope it doesn’t feel like an intrusion. Good luck finding your bike.
Lisa
October 22nd, 2006 at 2:58 pm
Oh booo! This is so awful! I hope someone sees how much that bike needs you and returns it this same day. How awful!
October 22nd, 2006 at 2:59 pm
How sad. I hope your bike reappears just as magically as it came into your life in the first place.
October 22nd, 2006 at 3:36 pm
Oh man, I’m sorry to hear that. I’m with Anna… let’s hope and pray that it reappears magically.
October 22nd, 2006 at 7:46 pm
Oh, that is HORRIBLE! I would be devastated if I lost my beautiful silver and green bike, so I know how you feel.
October 22nd, 2006 at 7:56 pm
I’m so sorry Jen, I know how much it meant to you. I was going to give ze some candy… but i’d rather give it to you for a new bike. ze can wait
October 22nd, 2006 at 9:13 pm
thanks, jorgie! you are too sweet. i know ze would have great compassion on me if he knew the situation. maybe he can help find my bike like he found ray!
thanks to everyone for all the kind words.
October 23rd, 2006 at 1:49 am
Oh, that’s awful. So sad. You should tell the police. Kim McMechan had her bike stolen recently too and they found it for her. I’m going to light a candle that your blue bike of joy finds its way back to you.
October 23rd, 2006 at 3:35 am
this is so wrong, jen! i have a shiny blue bike, a few hills, and a river here if you want to come ride…
October 23rd, 2006 at 5:50 am
*tears* for you this morning jen. i felt the wind in my hair as you spoke of the ride. i’m so sorry you were forced to share that which was so special to you.
October 23rd, 2006 at 9:02 am
so sorry jen… maybe we can start a shiny blue bike fund…
also, i know it’s nuts - but call your insurance company - it probably will not effect your premium at all (because it will be under what that would be) and they might just send you a check. sometimes it’s worth asking.
October 23rd, 2006 at 9:30 am
I didn’t know how much I loved your blue bike until it was gone…
October 23rd, 2006 at 11:07 am
Ahhh, Jen! What sad news! I admire your compassion for whoever may have “borrowed” it… and hope the magic finds its way back to you.
October 23rd, 2006 at 5:05 pm
thanks for all the kind words. i’ve wandered the streets looking for this dear friend, but no luck.
but your well wishes mean a lot. who knew i could get so attached to a bike?
October 23rd, 2006 at 5:51 pm
*Crosses fingers that your beautiful wayward (or waylaid) bicycle finds its way home!!!*
October 24th, 2006 at 9:22 pm
Oh dear..what a terible loss…I always wonder what a thief is thinking..usually when it happens to me, like the time I left my sneakers at the station and someone took them, I just prayed the shoes would carry them to good places but this time I am just thinking what a big JERK!! Sorry Jen…
October 25th, 2006 at 1:01 am
Your shiny blue happiness…it just radiates across the country and through my screen. They can take your bike, but you are shiny blue to the bone, woman!
October 25th, 2006 at 10:51 am
[…] Happy Wednesday to you all…I’m off to do some art at my “office” and make a little visit to a pawn shop about my bike. […]
October 26th, 2006 at 12:02 pm
Oh honey, I’m so sorry! Something very similar happened to me: - the bike was red (cheeepo from Target),
the check was art money (the last payment for a bunch of murals),
and it was outside my brother’s opthamologist in Baltimore.
I had lent him the bike because his had been stolen a week earlier, and he used his to commute (I just got it to zip around the neighborhood and feel the wind in my…helmet.)
My relatively happy ending - he got me a far better-quality bike, very gently used. It’s neon yellow. I haven’t ridden it yet.
November 14th, 2006 at 7:33 pm
wow…
this is beautiful…
and potent…
i love your philosophy about giving your bike to someone who needed it… the energy moving on as it needed to..
i hope you find a bike that is your second dream…
December 16th, 2006 at 11:03 am
[…] I wish someone would show up with my shiny blue bike and say they just knew this bike would not be the same until it was reunited with its owner. […]
March 14th, 2007 at 7:15 pm
Hi,
I have a website about bikes and biking. I read this story about your stolen bike and I really want it to appear on http://www.ForBikesSake.com If that interests you, please let me know. With the story, I can link back to your website and post a bio.
For more information about me, also check http://www.dalianmitmita.com Thank you. I hope you will allow the story to appear on my website. I look forward to hearing from you.
Yemi
April 23rd, 2007 at 12:57 pm
[…] This is a little glamour shot of my brand new bike. I used to have a shiny blue girl bike named Bliss, but she disappeared from my back patio last fall, and I’ve never quite gotten over it. I fully expected this dear friend to return to me, until three weeks passed and Dave took me by the hand and gently said, “You know that bike is gone, right? It’s never coming back.” Honestly, until that moment I had no idea. […]
April 17th, 2008 at 7:41 am
[…] Happy Wednesday to you all…I’m off to do some art at my “office” and make a little visit to a pawn shop about my bike. united loans kingdom mortgage 2ndcollege loans consolidate 3loan link 33 paydayloan equity 4 com home refinancingpersonal 5 with bankruptcy 000 loanloan 7 5 york payday8 loan payday online 20,1212 today loan online 8 paydaypayday loan payday 11 8 cheappersonal loan loan 9 payday […]
October 4th, 2008 at 11:52 pm
[…] mode 8. tissues with lotion in them 9. pastelitos and cafe con leche 10. being skinny 11. my shiny blue bike 12. time to paint and make art 13. sunflowers, the kind with the yellow centers 14. being in New […]
December 9th, 2008 at 11:47 am
So sorry to hear about your lost bike maybe it will show up at a pawn shop or something.