good fences

brooklyn, ny

rites of passage signify experience, though not necessarily all are of the pleasant variety. somewhere between the hours of 1 and 8 am saturday morning, my bicycle either adopted a sense of free will and embarked upon a harrowing adventure complete with soaring cliffs and plunging rapids and perhaps even a love interest with another inanimate object, overcoming obstacles great and small on their way to a whimsical quest set to an uplifting soundtrack. that, or else some asshole with a bolt cutter was walking down 58th street and saw something he liked. worse things have happened to better men, but platitudes only console so much as the heartless word suggests. it kinda stings. it really sucks.

each time i'm invited to prospect park, i now have to take the n. each time i want to meet friends in williamsburg or greenpoint, i have to stand on the stank platform of the g. each time i wake up with a monday free of work obligations and i ask myself, 'self, what do you want to do today?' i have to make a decision. before, i would just put my book, sunglasses, and music in my backpack and set out to see where my wheels would take me. now, i need a destination, which is the antithesis of my preferred motivation for travel. for this intermittent period sans roues, i am left with my metrocard. debilitating? not really. disappointing? extremely.

i will be buying another bike within the next couple weeks and can say that the experience does feel invasive, but is not one that i will allow to get the better of me. that is to say, i will not let this experience sour my experience in this great city. the easy thing to do is rush to some societal judgment about missing values and the inevitable plight of modern man. this does not mean that values have not been sliding and that we are not on a one way track to a self-inflicted cataclysm. based on global warming and the lunacy that is this country, that is the smart bet. still, one poor guy's stolen bicycle is no teleological litmus test for the world beyond. it simply reinforces that i need to haul that thing up those flights of stairs, even if i am working early the next morning.

so, dearest brooklyn, i attribute you no blemish. come and go as you please, your place in my heart is secure. i never assumed you to be flawless and, frankly, don't think i would have much interest in you if you were. i can only suggest that if you'd like to steal something, steal a car. people who drive those have money and insurance. some of us are just happy to have a few gears and a hooded sweatshirt, can't you give us a break?