Nancy Drew Gina Grace and the Missing Green Road Bike

Chapter 1: Channeling my inner Nancy Drew.

I’ve always been a card carrying member of the Red Headed Brigade (an imaginary undground network developed and maintained for and by the red-headed community…) but every once in a while I really see the strength of my titian hair surface in my day-to-day life. Yesterday was one such day.

This Saturday morning, I woke up on the early side (for me at least, would have been sleeping in from the perspective of some people. Kelly.) to have breakfast and make it to the 10:30AM spinning class at the YMCA in Dupont Circle. It’s walking distance from our apartment, but much quicker to bike. So I rode my bike the 7 or 8 blocks and parked it on the bike rack in front of the building. It was a bright and sunny day and I was feeling proud of myself for actually getting out of the house before I could get sucked into the home improvement show marathon that would surely be starting up on TLC.

After a grueling 45 minute class, I grabbed my bike helmet and pack from my locker and headed for home.

But my ride was nowhere to be found. Gone. And another bike already in its place, locked securely to the same fixture to which I had so recently locked my bike.

>insert fiery red-head scene of anger and frustration here<

Being at this point, a seasoned veteran of theft victimization, I methodically initiated the usual routine. Call the police. Call the insurance company. Look through the filing cabinet to find the originally sales receipt, invoice, owner’s manual and other documents that can help to prove ownership. Call the police back with the serial number and explain the whole story to the new person on the phone. Be angry. Grieve.

Cut to Monday morning. I was up and getting ready for work and while brushing my teeth, remembered that I wanted to check Craigslist to see if my bike was for sale. I knew the odds were slim, I mean, what kind of idiot would steal a bike, them post photos of it for sale the next day, in the same city? But I suppose it was part of my grieving process. I needed to try. I wasn’t ready to let go.

I was already running late, but I fired up my laptop while waiting for the iron to heat up and typed “cannondale” into the DC “wanted/for sale” search box.

On top of the list there was a heading of “Cannondale R500”… No way…. Click.

There was my bike!

So I called the police non-emergency number and they sent over an officer to help me figure out what to do. An hour later an officer showed up and I told her that my stolen bike was listed for sale on Craigslist.

“Where is that store?” she asked.

“It’s an online classified service. It’s only online.” I explain.

Blank look

“It’s kind of like eBay.” My clever husband ingeniously chimes in.

After explaining the concept of the World Wide Web to this officer (leaving out Al Gore’s significant role as inventor for the sake of brevity), she called a detective at the station for advice.

After an annoyingly long three way conversation, characterized with copious miscommunication between all parties I had my verdict: because we couldn’t see the serial numbers in the photos, there was no way to prove that the bike was mine (never mind the fact that it had my air pump, my pedals, my saddle…). She advised me that my only option would be to contact the seller and arrange a time to look at the bike. Once I saw it and could identify the serial number, I could call 911 and explain that I was witnessing my stolen property, then wait with the seller/thief for the police to arrive.

>insert eye roll here<

I went to work and could think of little other than my bike and how exactly I was to get it back. Not wanting the bike to be sold from under me, I e-mailed and called the seller, leaving him a message of how interested I was in the bike, and that I really wanted to try it out ASAP.

*By the way, his voice mail greeting was “You know who it is. Drop it after the beep.” Clearly an avid cyclist*

I churned ideas around with some friends at work, everyone eager to help solve the crime. I called the insurance company to see if they had any ideas- after all, they have a vested interest in this bike too. The claims person also had no idea what craigslist was, but barely understood the comparison to Ebay. . In other words, he wasn’t much help and didn’t offer any advice other than “I’ll refer this to a Senior Claims agent, she’ll get in touch with you within a few days.”

Am I alone in thinking that police and insurance adjusters should really get ON this apparently untapped clearinghouse for stolen goods??

Humph. No help from the police or the insurance company. And because the previously ingenious husband was going out of town that afternoon for two days for some conference or meeting-type thingy, I’m flying solo on this bike recovery mission….

Stay tuned for the next chapter of Nancy Drew Gina Grace and the Missing Green Road Bike…. (because I don’t have time to finish it right now…. Sorry!)