Saturday, April 12

The tale of the stolen SE Racing bike

So what if it was propped, not locked, outside his place of business? MAS called me at 10a.m. to share the disturbing news that his bike was stolen.

Feeling sympathetic to the situation, I offered condolences and asked him to double-check on my bikes upon his return home. It seems every six months a wave of bike thefts occur and my (imagination-fed) fear was that a troop of bike bandits had descended upon Bend wreaking havoc and misery with every beloved two-wheeler stolen.

MAS wasn't buying the scenario. He decided to go on the hunt for his missing SE Racing Stout. Certain that an early morning, alley-walking transient must be the culprit, his logic was that the bike could still be found in town.

Slightly concerned with the vigilante emerging from my kind and sensible husband, I made light of his endeavor. I offered that he could" me if you need back-up!"
I suggested he take our 11 year old border collie along on his mission, "just in case." But MAS was not deterred by my jokes, he was on a quest to find the SE STOUT.


He searched the streets riding another bike from his quiver, this one a stripped down fixed gear. Beginning on the west side of town, up and down the quiet Friday avenues, always on the lookout for his gray single speed steed, he rode. After a couple hours searching, MAS felt a rumble in his stomach and ducked into the Deschutes Brewery for lunch.

Though seated at the pub, his thoughts remained with the loss of his bike. Replacing it would cost a few hundies at least. He chose a cost-saving pretzel and washed it down with two pints.

Now he ventured east. Crossing 97 emboldened him. He stopped in the pawn shops. There he found scores of hand guns and shot guns but no SE Stout. Then to the cop shop further east. He filed the Police report despite his sense of the futility of this action.

The day was wearing on and still no bike sighting. MAS returned to the west side. He stopped by a friends house not expecting him to be home at 3 in the afternoon.


MAS shared his tale of woe over another beer. Wii was played, probably tennis, MAS kicked ass due to his wicked serve. Another fellow stopped by and all enjoyed the impromptu dude session. But MAS couldn't forget that time & the opportunity to find his bike were passing.

He left. The canvassing continued though a feeling of dread was spreading within him. With a fading glimmer of hope he continued his search.

Around the five o'clock hour, he returned to the loft where I was wrapping up my work day. Learning of my evening agenda to have cocktails and catch-up with a handful of girlfriends, he weighed his options. With a few drinks and little to eat in his belly, MAS told me that he did not feel up to an evening of girly revelry that would surely ensue. He was headed home, emotionally spent after a day of fruitless searching.

It was nearing 6pm. MAS decided to take a final pass through Drake Park.


Within the walls of the open air amphitheater, the bike was lying next to a man with seven coats, a 40-ouncer wrapped in a paper bag and a transistor radio.

MAS dropped the fixie, yelled "that's my bike" and confidently approached the many coated stranger.

"Why did you take my bike?" MAS demanded.

"I found it in the alley" said the man with seven coats.

"No, you didn't. It was right outside the door of the bike shop." Feeling enraged and
with a fire in his belly MAS continued, "How would you like it if I took something of yours?" Now grabbing for the 40 ouncer, "how would you like it if I took your beer?"

Seven coated man shrunk back, drink cradled close to his chest.

"How would you like it if I took your radio?" MAS considered a dramatic move, such as throwing the radio into Mirror Pond. Choosing words over hasty actions, MAS continued, "You stole my bike. I use that bike for my transportation every day. That is lame."

"You can have it back." said seven coats.

"OH, I AM TAKING IT BACK!" MAS picked up his familiar gray bike, returned to his fixed gear and rode both bikes the 4 blocks to the bike shop from where the SE was stolen not 12 hours before.

True Story. Names have been nicked for minimal anonymity. Feel free to ask MAS for his rendition of this story. It is better live. Plus, he's a really good storyteller.


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