On Friday on the way home from work, I rode the bike to the local pub for a beer. That beer became a couple and I ended up leaving with some people after last call. The bike was left behind, chained up, waiting for me to come get it later. The states and Australia both have strict rules against riding bikes after drinking. Drink biking is a dangerous activity. When you step behind the wheels of a bike after a couple of beers, you become a serious risk to stray cats and rabbits. You effectively are driving a semi-lethal weapon along the crowded public streets of Broken Hill. I was just being responsible.
My responsibility was well rewarded. When I returned by cab at six in the morning, I found the owner of the pub standing outside, looking at the trashed bike. A mere ten minutes before my return, a group of young hooligans, yes, hooligans had trashed the bike on their way to McDonald's after their after-prom party. The owner tried scaring them off, but the threatening group of seventeen year-olds would not listen. A police car drove by and he told them what happened and where to find the kids who did it, they didn't care. The owner kindly gave me a ride with the bike so I wouldn't have to carry it the kilometer home. We drove by the McDonald's and saw the culprits, lying in the grass, sipping lattes, basking in the rising sun. We nervously drove on by from the frightening children and headed home: I was too tired to make a big deal about it. I shouldn't have left the bike unattended overnight anyway. (Though the owner had to tell me about all the times bikes get chained up to the same place for days without any problems.)
This now makes bicycle number three to get trashed over the years. In fact, after the second trashed bike, I had all but given up on them. I've never had one stolen, because I always lock them up properly. This unthoughtful act is apparently very disrespectful to potential bike thieves and joy riders, therefore I deserve to have my bikes destroyed. I guess I'll have to learn to be a bit more charitable to the poor drunk teenagers who just wanna have some fun. I'm such a jerk.
My responsibility was well rewarded. When I returned by cab at six in the morning, I found the owner of the pub standing outside, looking at the trashed bike. A mere ten minutes before my return, a group of young hooligans, yes, hooligans had trashed the bike on their way to McDonald's after their after-prom party. The owner tried scaring them off, but the threatening group of seventeen year-olds would not listen. A police car drove by and he told them what happened and where to find the kids who did it, they didn't care. The owner kindly gave me a ride with the bike so I wouldn't have to carry it the kilometer home. We drove by the McDonald's and saw the culprits, lying in the grass, sipping lattes, basking in the rising sun. We nervously drove on by from the frightening children and headed home: I was too tired to make a big deal about it. I shouldn't have left the bike unattended overnight anyway. (Though the owner had to tell me about all the times bikes get chained up to the same place for days without any problems.)
This now makes bicycle number three to get trashed over the years. In fact, after the second trashed bike, I had all but given up on them. I've never had one stolen, because I always lock them up properly. This unthoughtful act is apparently very disrespectful to potential bike thieves and joy riders, therefore I deserve to have my bikes destroyed. I guess I'll have to learn to be a bit more charitable to the poor drunk teenagers who just wanna have some fun. I'm such a jerk.
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