And just like that, ten years of happiness was wheeled out the door.

There’s no easy way to say this, but after many happy years and I-don’t-know-how-many thousand kilometres of riding, my beloved and well-used bike has been stolen.  Man, that bike and I had been places, from the start to the end of the very first Tour de France, the cobbles of Paris Roubaix, to the heights of the French Alps. And a LOT of commuting around Wellington Harbour.   It’s not worth much to anyone else, but it was worth a lot to me and so it’s really sad to see it being wheeled away at the hands of a bolt-cutter wielding bike thief and his high-heeled accomplice.

It was locked up in the “secure” parking garage in the building where I work. It has two levels – one at street level which is pretty well used, and another up a ramp. There are bike racks on each, but the upper level is mostly deserted and hardly ever used and so I thought ’d tried to be clever and lock mine up where it’s a bit more out of the way to reduce the chance of it being nicked by some opportunist on the prowl. That did not work, and at 9:20 one sunny Friday morning a couple of thieves tailgated someone in through the swipe-card activated security doors and heading straight up the ramp, whipped out some bolt cutters and making off with my bike. Ouch. They then proceeded to head to the downstairs rack and take someone else’s pride and joy.

The building owner has some very clear CCTV footage which they’ve shared with the Police. They were happy enough to send me a bit of it and for me it’s a painful watch. I set it to jaunty music to try and lessen the pain, but that really hasn’t worked and it’s so annoying that I now just watch it muted.

It’s pretty painful to see it being wheeled away like that. But once I watched it a few times, those painful short 23 seconds of heartache have started to raise some deeper questions. Like, where’s the after-market for stolen 10-year-old race bikes? This guy clearly didn’t know how to ride it, as he just about goes over the bars thanks to the awesome stopping power of the ancient and outmoded rim brakes, so who is he going to be selling it to? Is that evil smirk because he is an evil arsehole (probably), or because he’s just realised what a sweet ride he’s swiped, and he’s looking forward to dancing on the pedals up some of the short punchy climbs that Wellington is known for? (probably not). How did he know that there was a sweet race bike with some fancy-looking aftermarket wheels tucked away in a dark corner of the upper level carpark? Had he cased the joint before hand? Or had he watched me riding in that morning and decided he liked what he saw?

But the biggest one is WHAT’S UP THE ACCOMPLICE?! She has to be about the least likely bike thief you could imagine. Those high-heeled strappy shoes look like they’re making it difficult to walk down the ramp, let alone preparing her for a speedy get away. And she couldn’t look less interested in what’s going on if she tried. You can’t see it in the video above, but after about a minute of waiting outside for her fella, she heads back in (with an slightly annoyed look on her face) to see what’s taking him so long. I can’t imagine what conversation over breakfast led to this being their morning. He was clearly ready for thievery (Hoody on? Check. Bolt cutters in backpack? Check. Location and target scouted? Seems so.). But her? Not so much. Did they meet on the way to work? Travel together? And who’s in charge? Looking at the body language I think it’s pretty obvious. (It’s her, I think). They don’t seem to be rushing either, and their casual thievery is on the one hand impressive – that sort of casual confidence would be great, if only it was used for good instead of evil – and on the other hand totally galling. Bike theft can often be a faceless crime. But this time it totally isn’t, because thanks to the CCTV system we actually get a pretty good look at both of them.

(*UPDATE*. A previous version of this post had very clear photos of the pair, as well as a link to the video. I shared the pictures to a local Stolen Bikes Facebook page and people very quickly suggested a couple of names. I’ve passed those on to the Police, and it turns out that one of them was convicted for a violent manslaughter (sure, there were mitigating circumstance, but they shot and killed a guy) and the possibly has links to a violent gang. I am not messing with that s—, so I passed the photos on and then took them out of this post. Better safe than sorry.)

So despite having reported it to the Police, notifying every second hand and pawn shop in town, and sharing details with every Facebook group and bike shop I can think of, I’m coming to the realisation that my bike is gone for good. Sure, there’s still a chance that I’ll find it, so I’m not giving up hope. But I’m not too optimistic.

Luckily for most of us, most of the time, petty theft like this is uncommon.  And there are for sure ways of making it less common still, like getting a REALLY good lock.  Mine was good, but not good enough.  I’d once tried to cut through something similar with bolt cutters, and couldn’t do it so I’d assumed it would be OK.  But then I’m a weedy-armed cyclist with no real bolt-cutting experience, and so the thief was able to make quick work of it.

So yeah.  I’m coming to terms with the fact that it’s gone for good.  I’m looking for silver linings though.  One is definitely that there’s a caring community of cyclists out there and, judging by the various comments that my Facebook posts have sparked, people care when someone else’s bike gets nicked. Mostly the comments are from total strangers, but other times they’re from people you didn’t know had a common interested in used bike parts.  It eases the pain to know that other people care. Does the fact that Tom Scully, World Tour pro, commented on my “Stolen Bike – Leads welcome!” post with an angry face emoji make it a little bit better?  Yes.  Yes it does.

As the days have gone by I’m getting a bit more philosophical about it.  As one of the guys in the bike shop said “well, at 10 years old you’ve gotten a lot of value out of it” and I guess that’s true. And it’s been a good time of scrolling back through the picture on my phone, from the earliest days on the Champs Elysees…

…riding (some of) the route of the very first Tour de France…

…and sometimes on cobblestones in the rain…

…and definitely epic rides in the French Alps…

…which all led to bike maintenance in the bathroom because apartment life means no garage…

…or those times just riding around French villages…

…or jumping in for a swim here at home on the way back from a sweet summer ride.

The insurance isn’t going to be worth claiming on, as it’s value on the normal-person market is less than the cost of claiming for it. It clearly has some residual value though, as some douchebag was prepared to break the law to get his hands on it. At some point I’ll be able to feel good about getting a new bike, but I’m not quite there yet. And that’s only partly because bikes have gotten WAAAYYY more expensive in the last 10 years and “saving for a new bike” was not at the top of our financial plan. So I live in hope that it’ll find its way back to me, but I’m realistic that it probably won’t. Farewell, my trusty steed. We had a great ride.