Tall tales
LBS vs OS debate |
| Posted by Badmin (badmin) on Feb 15 2009 |
| Tall tales >> Random Drivel |
LBS VS O/S debate? Another one? Maybe…
She looked better than she did two years ago and dare I say it, better than she looked in that poster on my wall as a teenager…
Many moons ago, when I first got struck by the crazy ‘Mountain-Bicycle’ fad that was sure to come and go ( just like wide skateboards, Bob Marley/Nirvana t-shirts and loose clothing with key chains dangling…oh hang on). Anyway, quite some time ago I picked up my first MTB. Instantly, this was my sport, my gig. I got sucked in and discovered the ‘specialist’ side of the sport and the bikes that came with it – Stumpjumpers, Fat Chances, Yeti’s, Kleins, Marins etc and …Pace; a bike caught my eye and interest instantly.One came into a Bikeshop I worked at, adorned with top o’ the line Mag 21’s, and that was that, I had to have one, one day. But being not of rich parents and on the equivalent of a whopping $3 per hour, that day would have to be far away. So for many years, a poster of such mythical bike had to suffice, lined up on the bedroom wall with the Ferrari and girly posters.
Through the years and through many reasonably priced bikes, the desire was still there, but the belief waned. Other ‘important’ items such as cars, beer, food, beer and meeting the rent took their toll on the proposed Pace fund.
Years, and a few countries later, the MTB bug had hit new heights, and during the daily surf of one of those intarwebs forums (that only losers who like to talk, but never actually ride visit)…I stumbled across a for-sale ad. Some maniac was selling a hardly used Pace RC300 frame. If there is a record for fastest timestamp between opening a thread and PMing someone, I reckon I’m a contender. A few days later, I had in my possession a real Pace frame.
Over a very short period, I built it up and turned it into an XC race weapon, latex tubes and all (a pivotal decision, for the strangest reason).
I raced it, it went like sh1t off a shovel, it was awesome. I rode it heaps, looked after it really well...the type of well that upsets girlfriends.
So, life is sweet and with a night race coming up, I carried out the usual routine of taking the bike to work in the car then heading straight from work to the race.
Mid afternoon, whilst working hard for my employer (READ:cruising MTB forums), a colleague pops his head into the office and asks if I knew that one of my car windows was smashed…My face went white and I rushed down to the underground carpark. True enough a smashed window, broken lock and…no bike. Some scumbag had swiped my pride and joy! A secure swipecard work carpark, locked canopy on the ute and a cable lock around the bike inside – he wanted it, that’s for sure. A small area of blood near the smashed window gave me some satisfaction.
Step 1 – Get a text and an email out to everyone I know in the city and surrounds. Bikeshops, riding mates, mates partners, bike couriers and mates who worked in the CBD all got the message with expletives. I had an angry mob in under a minute flat.
Step 2 – Call cops and go through usuals, including “No, no, its not just any bike, don’t you understand?! Wheres the national guard? Send Grisham!
Step 3 –. Calculate a radius based on questionable data of time and speed, hit the streets, clotheslining everyone on a silver bike.
Step 4. Get back into work to read messages of condolence and imaginative threats to bike thieves. Ring Insurance company to get the expected “no way, get f***ed, f*** off”response.
But, it wasn’t about the money, it was about the bike.
I was livid. (that night I still raced, and set my lap record, on my DH bike. I was an angry man)
Time passed, perhaps six months went by, Crime converters got sick of my regular call cycle, stolen bike flyers yellowed in shop windows and then…a phone call from an unusual source.
Whilst on a business trip interstate I got a call from Ferg, a local DH lad who worked in an Adelaide bike shop, he had gotten my number from someone else “Mate, I’ve seem that bike of yours, some big dude brought it into the shop!” “What, really?, is it still in one piece, not the bottom of the torrens?" “Nah, it seems ok, needed tyres pumped up”. “Is he still there?" etc, etc. The helplessness of being interstate was infuriating
"Nah, left, but told him to come back and we’ll put a tube in it". I wont go through all the details, but the next 2 weeks involved this bloke coming into the shop to get the tyres pumped up (cos he couldn’t afford a tube), the bike shop ringing me and the cops on the sly and trying to stall him, but every time the cops took their sweet time and he was gone. Slowly we were closing in on this guy, random bikers followed him, multiple sightings, calls to cops etc, until another informant saw him go into a house. From there ensued the ‘stake outs’ me plus 3 other mates (thanks lads) sitting in a car at night in the hotspots, waiting to catch a glimpse, but everytime, there was no sign. Then one day, positive information from a member of the MTB community out walking his dog early one morning “Mate, I am staring at your bike, its behind some gates at X address, get round here” By this time I had a direct line into the local cops, rang them and got a legal posse. Within 45 mins, three cop cars, three officers, two detectives, one warrant and me were parked up the road from the house. Five mins later they entered , ransack the place and find…no bike. The bastard had got wind and moved on before we got there! Frustration. It was discovered the house was the thieves mate's, he didn’t live there. It did however belong to a father and 2 sons ‘of interest’ to the cops and they found a rather stocked growing room to bust them for! Take that mates of scumbag! But still no bike and oh so close.
It was at this point I thought for sure that after the bust the game would be up and the bike would be dumped and lost forever. I thanked the cops and everyone from the local MTB community that had a hand in getting us so close to retrieval and I moved on…
Over a year later, strangely during another business trip away, I had a call from the owner of the bike shop that Ferg used to work at. “Your bike has been in again” he said calmly. “what?, err, Bike?” “The Pace thingo, that meathead came in again with it” I was stunned and again helpless, thousands of kms away. “I’ve called the cops, they have security camera footage from next door, they know who it is, they have the file, they are off to see him”. My contribution to this conversation from what I can remember was a lot of thank you’s and blabbering, The next day, I had a call from an SA police officer, Kate. After confirming my details she said “Well sir, I can inform you that we have recovered your bicycle, it is waiting for you to verify and collect at X”. At this stage I was a little overwhelmed, again my recollection of my contribution is hazy but it contained thank you’s, more thank you’s, "did you bash him?" "is the bike ok?" and "how can I ever repay you?" type stuff.
Officer Kate told me this guy is a know Crim and the bike pursuit led to multiple stolen property convictions (more serious according to Officer Kate, but cmon, what’s more serious than my bike?), the dude will be going to jail (which is where he is now I believe). I let Kate know I would be back in Aus in a few days and would fly to Adelaide asap once back (as I now lived in Sydney) and then I’m sure I thanked her again.
Touchdown in Adelaide. I had arranged a day trip for the sole purpose of retrieving the bike, no time to catch up with mates no chance of a Parmi and Pint. I collected my empty bike bag from the conveyer and got a cab.
I must admit to being a little apprehensive standing outside that large steel riveted door pressing the intercom to be let in. Is it really my bike they recovered? What condition will it be in? Will she remember me? Will I embarrass myself in front of cops by hugging it? I had the answers to these questions very soon after. She looked better than she did two years ago and dare I say it, better than she looked in that poster on my wall as a teenager.
Paperwork completed, I walked out of the stolen goods depot, head high, a smile on my face and my rightful property back by my side, in not too bad a nick, just over 2 and a half years later.
Latex tubes, a local MTB community with passion, and persistence all came together to undo bike thieving scum. Another reason why we cant do without Local Bike Shops.
Huge thanks need to go to the local MTB community for their support and involvement, of special mention is Ferg and Angus. Ferg, I’ll buy you a beer when you are old enough to handle it. In addition, I cant go past the support of the cops, even if they thought I was a loony cos after all it is only a bike…
Last changed: Oct 05 2010 at 1:39 PM
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