oh. my. god.


ok, so today one of the weirdest and coolest things ever happened to me.

as you know, my bike got nicked last week. i was a devastated and changed person and faced the idea of looking for a replacement with dread and a touch of adolescent sulk.

well, tonight, on my way back from the pool (yes, that’s right kids, carlton baths are open again. lauren has a season pass and she’s not afraid to use it), i stopped off in rathdowne village to get catfood and toy with the idea of getting a nocciola gelato, when i spied a bike that looked like mine, tied to a bike rack. i looked again, and it was the same make, it had crappy handle covers, chewing gum on the brake casing and two types of locks.

yes, kids, it was my bike!!

i asked the people dining al fresco if it was their bike, no one owned it. i could have stuck around to see who put it there, but i had a sneaky suspicion that i wasn’t going to find them – they’d tied the bike up with my lock and left it. for me to find.


while i have my cynical moments, i still genuinely believe in the goodness of human beings and this whole thing reiterated it to me. i can imagine our little pissed thief woke up with a rogue bike in his yard, wondered where the fuck he nicked it from, couldn’t remember and decided to return it to the main street closest to where he imagined nicking it from*. i think this is what is called comeuppence. i’m sure that our petite thief is carrying around enough guilt, which i hope will be part of a lesson learned. and i’m sure that, once he sees the bike is gone, he’ll feel a whole lot better. i might go back and leave a sticker note, just to let him know:

dear lovely bike thief,
you really upset me by nicking my bike,
but thank you for returning it as best you could.
i hope you get the help you need.


* i say ‘he’ because my flatmate’s boyfriend remembered hearing some dudes hangin’ outside the house hella early in the morning, thinking nothing of it, until my bike disappeared.

thanks for subscribing to she sees red by lauren brown. xx