Shake Your Fist!

Nothing like walking into something that should be entirely familiar and sensing quickly that something is amiss. I did some vehicle shuffling yesterday evening to clear out a little space in the garage to get a few things done. The good news is that the time share pickup truck started right up and made it all the way around the block to its parking spot on the street!

I the truck around front, stopped to pluck a few dandelions from the grass in the front yard. After a few minutes, I made my way back through the house to grab a few small items from the garage. I immediately noticed looking through the windows on the house side that the garage door was open . . . not the state it was in when I drove away because I always watch to make sure the door closes fully before driving off! I ran to the man door (yes, the small door is called a man door) and the dirty thieves locked the deadbolt from the inside, let the fist shaking begin!

The dramatic conclusion of the encounter was me running through the garage in time to see the perp driving off down the alley with my new bicycle tossed in the back of their truck. I dialed 911 to report it hoping that perhaps Denver's finest would be in the vicinity, shook my fist some more, called in the insurance claim and carried on with my evening plans.

I like to think that I maintain a pretty steady sense of calm in situations where others tend to freak out. There is very little I can do that will make my bike come back at this point. It is only carbon fiber/metal/plastic bits and nobody suffered physical harm, unlike "the incident" . . . let us never speak of it again . . . I will find out just how well my insurance works. With any luck, I will be on the replacement bike in short order. It is supposed to rain today anyways.