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Stolen Bikes Suck – A Story of Recovery!

Stolen Bikes Make People Sad.

In 2008, or 2009 I lost a bike. That is not true. It became one of the stolen bikes. I parked it in a bank parking lot of Gunnison Colorado and I caught a ride up to work in Crested Butte. When I returned, the bike was gone.

Generally when stolen bikes in Gunnison cruise they can be found. I searched all the ‘hot spots.’ I cruised by Cebolla Lodge, the 600 North Colorado Complex, Western’s Campus, and others. I found nothing. My bike, I declared one week later, was one of many stolen bikes.

As this was right around graduation for Western State Colorado University, I gave up thinking this bike was taken out of our valley.

This story is pretty deep for Race Townie. Let me explain the bike. It was a 1990’s Schwinn Frontier. Nothing really exciting until I place a seat on it that had flames, grips with skulls and red eyes on ‘em, and steel pegs. I tricked it out and it was the first bike that I completed 100 laps with in Bridges of the Butte. In other words, this bike was the first evolution of the ‘Race Townie.’

Once this bike become one of the stolen bikes, I came up with a new theory.

I would create an even cooler bike. If I built up a race townie that was so cool, and I put my name on it, then no one will steal it.

So far the theory holds true. And, now the first ever race townie bike comes back. It again had to be one of the many stolen bikes.

As stolen bikes go, it was great to reunite. However, it is no longer about the bike. It is the principle of the matter. I wish to meet the person who rode this bike last and learn at least a part of this race townie’s story.

Stolen bikes make people sad. Our bikes are an extension of our personality. I know this stolen bike never became someone else’s because it is exactly the same as I left it…more than four years ago in the bank parking lot–with the only exception of some ridiculous tape hiding much of the frame. The pegs are still there, the skull grips, and the seat with flames on it. It is still mine.

My sister is quick to point out that this bike was originally hers. So, if she wants it back, she can have it–I just get to keep the seat.

The moral of the story? Make your bike so damn cool, put your name on it, and ride it fast – because you never know when it will become one of the stolen bikes.

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