I've got my bike back, now it's time to ride!

Hello everyone! When I got my bike back, I promised myself that I would do a century ride (100 miles) this summer. I've been looking for good rides to train for, and in the process, discovered Team in Training. Long story short, I decided to bite the bullet and not just train for a bike ride, but another triathlon- and this time, Olympic distance! I don't know what's more intimidating- training to Swim 1.5K, then ride 40K, then run 10K (all in one day! In a hurry!) OR raise the $2400 minimum fund raising goal...


I think I've got my work cut out for me! One thing is certain- I need to work out more and get into better shape, and experience has taught me that being accountable to someone or something is my best motivator. And having that something be a fund raiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society is a pretty good "something." Right as I was looking for events to train for, I learned that my best friend from 8th grade's mom just passed away, after what sounded like a pretty intense battle with Leukemia. She was the kind of lady I wish I would have known better. In Jr. High she seemed like one of those moms who was hip and with it, and knew everything cool and current, but also a savvy woman- a real grown-up type mom. Like the best aspects of a lot of different moms all in one person. And that was just totally intimidating to me at the time- because clearly I was an idiot (a state that I am slowly trying to work my way out of... one step at a time). Anyway, it was a reminder that blood cancers are a very real, and that organizations that try to find a cure for them are doing the right thing.

If I can get in triathlon shape, the 100 mile century ride should be easy enough to accomplish a few weeks later. After all, I've got a pretty nice bike.

J and I are doing this together, so keep your eyes peeled for a super-fit new version of us, coming to a neighborhood near you... summer 2007.


So- do you want to donate?? Please? It's easy, tax deductible and you can do it RIGHT NOW!!

Here's the link! www.active.com/donate/tntnca04/Gina

If you'd like to make a significant donation, I'm happy to entertain the idea of a sponsorship. I'll wear a sign that says just about anything if the price is right...

Chapter 2 of Nancy Drew Gina Grace and the Missing Green Road Bike

continued from yesterday's adventure...

When we left off, I had just received no help at all from either the police or my insurance company in providing me back up as I attempted to recover my stolen bike from the thief.

A few hours into the afternoon, I got a call from the seller. I was hoping that he could hear me trembling with fear over the phone line. We figured out that he was coming from Maryland, and that he would be willing to come into DC that evening to show me the bike. At one point, I very nearly forgot that I wasn’t ACTUALLY interested in buying this bike and almost gave him my address, as he was seeming to be a nice enough guy. But my better senses kicked in just in time, and I told him to meet me at an elementary school off of Rhode Island Avenue, around 6:45 or 7PM.

Because my strong and fearless husband was now out of town for the next three days, I called on the support of my friends to serve as beefy back up. “Woody” and “Putty” were my back up guys, and they agreed to meet me at my house at 6:30 PM so we could stake out the meeting place in advance and develop a strategy.

I still had hope that I might be able to get some sort of help from the police, so instead of taking my usual route when walking Daphne that evening, I walked her to the metro station where there seems to permanently be at least on police officer on duty, surveying the scene. Always the ambassador of good will, Daphne helped me to immediately build rapport with the officer there. He was originally from North Carolina, and clearly a dog person. I told him my situation and he was eager to help- though he couldn’t himself leave his existing post. He called for the support of any other officers in the area, and within 15 minutes, I had two new officers to which I had to explain the situation. All were skeptical. I was clearly the only one convinced that this bike for sale was, in fact, the bike that was stolen from me only two days earlier. Never mind the fact that there was already a copy of my bill of sale, (containing the serial number) on file at the station with my initial police report. I didn’t have it in my hand, so it was apparently a moot point. I went home to produce the paperwork, now only 5 minutes from my scheduled meeting time with the shady salesman.

By the time I handed over my paperwork, the officer was finally coming around to believing that this very likely could have been my bike, and I could see cop adrenaline starting to flow at the thought of capturing the bad guy.

I asked him to wait around the corner from the school, while Woody and Putty waited in their car, parked on the street in front of the school. I sat on the front steps of the elementary school. The landscape around me suddenly became a real-life Where’s Waldo scene, where instead of finding a guy in a red striped shirt, I was finding police cars. I was finding them everywhere, in parks, around corners, in parking lots, driving down adjacent streets. And they were all pointing at me. And I waited. And waited. And waited some more. It was now about 7:40, and I was starting to develop a plan of how I was going to get out of this without looking like a complete idiot in the event that he was a no-show. And then he called. He was a little lost and about 4 blocks away. He was going to park his car there since he found a spot, then ride the bike to the school.

So I kept waiting, trying to get into “character.” I was looking to buy a road bike from an online seller. I was willing to pay the asking price of $600. I was a girl, alone in a school yard, with 6 hypothetical $100 bills in my pocket. And he may have been planning to show up, steal my hypothetical money, then kill me. Before I could imagine what he was going to do with my body, and how horrifying and life-altering it would be for the poor child who discovered my half buried corps in the sand box while on recess, I had my cell phone at the ready and was calling Woody to come wait with me. I mean, he wouldn’t have time to kill us BOTH before the cops got there, right?

Shortly after Woody got out of the car to meet me, the Salesman arrived, wobbling down the sidewalk on my bike. Watching him try to ride it with my clipless peddles, served as some much needed comic relief.

I introduced myself, smiled and shook his hand. I tried to make “normal” small talk and asked him how old the bike was. He thought it was about two years old. Yeah… two years cause he bought it at a garage sale about two years ago. And he paid like, $850 for it at the time.

I refrained from telling him that he was sure lucky to have taken that much cash with him when he went garage-saleing that day.

I took the bike for a “test ride” around the corner, where in full view of the police officer, I turned the bike upside down and inspected the serial number. I gave him the thumbs up, and turned it back upright, and heading back toward him. Before I could turn the peddles twice, the guy was being surrounded by 4 officers. I think I heard a “You! Stay right there! You’re under arrest for…..”

There were zip ties, Miranda rights, questions for me with my answers hastily scribbled on note pads, just like in the movies. Photos taken of the bike in various positions etc.

Lots of smiles and cheers on one side of the street, and surely lots of anger, embarrassment and frustration on the other.

It’s still in pretty good shape, but has some new scratches and bruises. So I’d say its resale value went down. It was probably thrown in the back of a truck/van though, so I’m going to have it checked out to make sure the only damages are cosmetic. He also took off my bumble bee saddle bag, which was one of my favorite parts of the bike. Yes, I bought it off the clearance rack in the kid’s bike section of Target for about 2 dollars, but it had an emotional value…. And also contained a not so cheap bike multi tool and repair kit.

I have to give a nod of thanks to the police officers for having a lot of tact in the whole situation (after they started believing me of course) in that as soon as I got on the bike, I had no further interaction with the guy, and was not even close enough to make eye contact with him. This was a good thing, as if I were close enough I probably would have told him I was really sorry for getting him in so much trouble, and that I was sure he just really needed the money, and that I really just needed my bike back. What the heck is wrong with me?? Still kind of wondering why I feel so bad for getting this guy in trouble. Must be some sort of modified Stockholm Syndrome. But I’m getting over it, and I’m happy to have my bike back. But most of all, I’m happy that I got something back! After having quite a theft prone year, it’s nice to know that the bad guys don’t always win in the end. And I’m glad I tipped off the police about this little thing called the internet, where people can anonymously sell things that may or may not be theirs to sell.

But the best part of the whole ordeal (besides getting my bike back) was toward the end when head police officer guy looked over at me and said, (and I’m not even paraphrasing): “Ma'am" that was some excellent detective work.”

Case closed.

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!)

Presenting... The Most Interesting Thing I've Read All Day:

...from Wikipedia under the listing for "Red Hair:Biochemistry and Genetics":

"There is some indication that the uncommon pheomelanin/eumelanin ratios found in redheads may be correlated with some corresponding variations in the abundance of other hormones and neuropeptides, including epinephrine (adrenaline), dopamine, and oxytocin. Wolves which are bred to be tame have been found to acquire a progressively paler coat of fur as they become tamer and tamer through successive generations. The speculation is that the cell biology which produces epinephrine (adrenaline) needed for the high-energy fight-or-flight response is linked to the cell biology that governs the relative production of pheomelanin and eumelanin. This finding might explain why redheads are often characterized as having a distinct temperament compared to the rest of the population. This finding might also explain why redheads appear to be over-represented in breakthroughs in the cerebral arts. Socrates, Galileo, and Darwin were redheads, as were Vincent Van Gogh, Mark Twain, and JK Rowling. Redheads also appear to be over-represented in comedy, as well. "




For being a completely un-cited source, I found it amazingly insightful.