The tobacco shop huddled darkly next to the glaring red stoplight set off the bright white t-shirt of the teenager pedaling a very familiar bicycle. It still has those $70 saddlebags I bought four years ago. With sudden recognition I averted my face as the light changed green and the whole intersection got an immediate earful of angry v-twin. It's been half a year and it still pisses me off. I don't have information to prove the machine is mine, so even if I WERE to go all ape and confrontational and shit there would be no way to follow through. I should have filed a police report. I should have cared. This is how I protect my stuff, this is how I defend myself....by convincing myself that at the time that it didn't matter, it's only a 400-dollar bicycle and I'm way to busy to worry about something I hardly ever used....
...only a 400-dollar bicycle....
....so what will it be next, coward? what will it be next? Your mailbox? Your wallet? Your motorcycle? Your girlfriend?
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