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You ever had something stolen from you that just makes you question humanity? Yeah, well, my bike got swiped the other day. I mean, who steals a bike? It's like the thief had this moment of inspiration, thinking, "You know what my life is missing? A two-wheeled adventure!" I like to think that somewhere out there, there's a thief pedaling away, struggling with the gears, thinking, "Man, biking is way harder than I thought. Maybe I should've stolen a scooter."
But seriously, when did bikes become the hot commodity for thieves? Are there underground bike trading markets? Do they have bike thieves' anonymous meetings where they discuss the thrill of a successful heist? "Hi, my name is Dave, and I stole three bikes this week." It's like a support group for two-wheeled criminals.
And you know what's worse? The audacity of the thief. They don't just take your bike; they take a piece of your soul. I imagine the thief looking at my bike and saying, "I'm not just stealing a mode of transportation; I'm stealing someone's dreams of getting in shape without going to the gym.
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So after my bike got stolen, I decided to invest in some serious bike security. I got the strongest lock money could buy. I'm talking about a lock that could probably withstand a nuclear blast. I was feeling pretty confident until I saw a YouTube video titled, "Breaking the World's Strongest Bike Locks with a Toothpick." I mean, come on! I spent more on that lock than I did on the bike itself, and now I find out it can be defeated with a toothpick? That's like investing in a high-tech security system for your house and finding out the burglars have a secret handshake to disarm it.
I even considered getting a bike alarm. You know, one of those ear-piercing sirens that goes off if someone so much as breathes on your bike. But then I thought about it – I'd probably be the one setting it off accidentally every time I tried to unlock it. Picture me, desperately trying to silence the alarm while everyone on the street stares at the guy who can't even manage his own bike security system.
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I decided to play detective after my bike disappeared. I mean, I watch enough crime shows to know the drill. I started dusting for fingerprints on the lamppost where my bike used to be, imagining the police arriving with their little kits, saying, "We found the culprit. Turns out it was Mrs. Johnson from apartment 3B – she had a sudden urge to go mountain biking." But let me tell you, finding your stolen bike is like searching for a needle in a haystack. And not just any haystack, one that's been scattered across the city. I half-expected a dramatic montage with intense music playing while I followed a trail of discarded bike parts, only to discover my bike had been transformed into modern art by a guerrilla street artist.
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They say karma is a thing, right? Well, after my bike got stolen, I started to wonder what I did to deserve this cosmic joke. Did I accidentally step on a crack in the sidewalk and break my mother's back, leading to this chain of events? Maybe I didn't forward that chain email in 2007 promising good luck if I did. I can imagine the universe looking down on me, saying, "You thought you could escape unscathed, didn't you? Here's a lesson in impermanence – your bike is now in the possession of a part-time philosopher who's using it as a metaphor for life's fleeting moments."
And you know what's the real kicker? If karma is a thing, my bike thief probably just upgraded their mode of transportation and is enjoying a smooth ride while I'm stuck here making jokes about it. Well played, universe, well played.
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