Well, where do I begin on such an embarrassing anecdote?
From the beginning. Last summer, I was perusing the Marketplace for a bike for my daughter. Hers wasn’t cutting it anymore, and she looked like a bear on a tricycle, and that needed to change. Coming up, one bicycle, but I have standards. It needed to be able to change gears, be at least a 24″ tire, and be in good to great condition. Because I’m not doing this again, nor am I buying a brand new bike for you to ride sporadically, even though you tell me you will ride it ALL THE TIME.
I locked eyes-to-tires on a beaut. It met all my criteria and was pretty too. Now I have to pick it up. It isn’t far away, just into town a couple of miles. The plan, per discussion with the seller, is to pick up the bike and deposit the $15 in the mailbox. No muss, no fuss.
I asked my husband to come along to get it, and that wasn’t going to happen, so I asked my 16-year-old to come with me. She’s always up for an adventure, so we load up. We find the place easy enough, and I can see my new purchase parked right there underneath a tree just waiting for me. You cannot and should not purchase a bike without taking it for a spin. So I did. My daughter caught it on vid. The bike rode great, but the brakes were a little tight. Either way, good to go! We loaded it up, the money was put in the mailbox, and away we went.
See for yourself.
The next day, I get a message from the seller asking when I’m planning on picking up the bike. WAIT, WHAT?! I already picked up the bike! What is she talking about? But she couldn’t be wrong because she is the seller and obviously can see the bike is still at her own dang house. I might have just stolen someone’s bike. Ermergerd. I’m at work during this exchange, and my co-workers are finding this hilarious. Me? My stomach hit my butt, and I was racking my brain on how I was going to remedy this eff-up. Could I just go and deposit the stolen bike back under the tree? Were the police already called? Would my husband come with me this time? I can’t even believe this. I’m wrecked. There goes my pristine record. There goes my nursing degree and my livelihood. It’s all gonna be gone.
Okay, a little dramatic, but now you may understand how I felt in that moment. A grievous misconduct – nevermind, that’s for work-related issues. But something like that! I have never stolen something so large before and in broad daylight! (Disclaimer: as a teenager, I may have taken things that weren’t mine. Shame on me, I know.) What am I going to do!?
Let’s get to the meat of the story. I can’t remember who I told from my family, but they had a big mouth, and when I got home from work that day, my son ran out of the house and yelled, “You stole a bike, Mom?” Well, yes, yes, I did, but not intentionally, and now I have to make it right. It’s pouring rain, by the way, but I can’t wait to remedy this unfortunate mistake. I have to go now – raining cats and dogs or not- time’s a tickin’. My husband refuses to go with me- he doesn’t want to be caught up in the judicial system, but my daughter agrees to go. Honestly, she is just looking for the adrenaline high, I bet, but whatever. I guess I have a friend in all this.
The bike gets loaded (again), and we hit the wet road. The windshield wipers are on high, matching my heartbeat, and the rain is sluicing away like my future. What an idiot I am. What a gosh-darn idiot. And to be honest, how did this all happen? I confirmed the address, and I had a picture of the bike! One really needs to just literally put 2 and 2 together. Clearly, I did not confirm the address nor compare the picture of the bike to the real deal parked so lovingly in the front yard.
We arrive, and before returning the bike to its rightful owners, I feel I need to fess up. So up to the door I go. There is a sign on the door that reminds knockers that a camera is in use. Great, so they saw me steal the bike in the first place. I knock and wait, go back to the car, write a note to stick in the door, and wait; knock again and ring the doorbell, and nothing. So I heave the bike out of the car in the pouring rain, roll it to its rightful place beneath the tree, tuck the note in the screen door, and bust ass outta there. I deserve to be soaking wet right now; it’s my punishment.
The Note
I’m returning the bike I thought I was buying off of Marketplace yesterday!
I went to the wrong house! Sincerely sorry and embarrassed. Keep the $15 for any inconveniences.
Amber
Back in the car, we drive literally 2 blocks, and there it is. The correct bike – parked neatly in the driveway where even someone with 0/0 vision could see it. The owner was making this easy for me. Thank the heavens. It matches the pictures, and the address is correct. I load a bike for the third time and nearly drive away without paying. Good god, this has been a disaster from the start. My daughter cannot even believe what an idiot I am, and frankly, neither can I.
Finally, it is over, and the good news of the debacle is that my daughter loves her bike! I paid double for it, but it was worth it (right?).
Or so I thought. The next day, my co-worker damn near runs to me with a shit-eating grin on her face to show me a post. I read it. OMG. It’s public! This isn’t looking good. I hadn’t heard from the cops nor seen an APB out for me, so perhaps Facebook was as far as the victim was going to take it. One can only hope, ammiright? I had already scanned fb posts and hadn’t seen any reports or requests about a stolen bike, so this was a little unnerving. Turns out, one sister works with the thief, and the other sister works with the victim. Small world.
But life sometimes throws a curveball that brings delight. This is one of those times. The post included a lot of laughing emojis (good sign) but spelled out the bike heist they never saw coming before, during, or after. How did the sister even know about the stolen bike, you may ask? Solid question. Someone had a big mouth and was gossiping with family members, clearly, so she recognized the story being told. Classic.
The victim found the bike heist hilarious, thank the Lord, and not one soul had noticed that said bike was missing. That answers why there was no police report. She wrote on Facebook that it was the funniest shit ever, and even wanted to find me to give me the money back. No, thank you. Meeting in person would be more than mortifying, and there is only so much small talk before it gets weird(er).
The perp and the victim did chat on Messenger, and had a good laugh about it. Apparently, I picked the best person to steal from (and return to). I still can’t believe I just sauntered right up, took the bike, rode it, rated it, and left the money.
Idiot.
Hoss & Weasel 