Wouldn’t Be Dead For Quids

There was a spate of bicycles being stolen here in Lennox. Unfortunately ours was suddenly one of them or more specifically, Dave’s was.

His new $1000 mountain bike was lifted. The cycle being taken was particularly tragic to me because I’d lived through his initial idea of this life changing purchase, then the sourcing, the delivery, the ‘look at me on my mountain bike’ phase, then the theft.

This came about as a direct result of a moonlight escape from our home to a friend’s place by one of my sons. He’d borrowed the new two wheeler leaving it leaning against a garden hedge as you do when you’re sneaking off somewhere forgetting the bike lock and trusting the world.

More bikes were targeted over the next few days and weeks with distressed FB posts popping up almost daily asking ‘have you seen my bike’ usually with a picture of it and the owner in happier days.

But there was one bike story which stood out more than others. We were talking to a good friend whose first name starts with the 20th letter of the alphabet and he told us his story.

He’d ridden his bike to the Lenno Pub, had a particularly great night there and headed home later. Next day he wandered back there to get his bike but it was gone. Stolen. He remembered he’d parked it near the security cameras out the back and contacted the pub manager. Together they carefully studied the camera footage for hours in the office. Suddenly he said, ‘Wait, go back, there he is, there’s the mongrel who stole my bike!’

They rewound the footage, leant towards the screen and could just make out a man in the semi darkness wearing a white t-shirt and thongs looking extremely pleased with himself and not giving a toss about blatantly taking the bike in front of the CCTV.

Our friend said, ‘Hang on, I think I know him.’ The manager said, ‘You recognise him?’ Our friend said, ‘Yeah…it’s me’.

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