Yesterday, while watering the plants and cleaning the outside of the boat, I glanced out to the disarray of bikes that line the street and realised with a heavy heart that mine was no longer among them. For the first time since moving to Amsterdam almost 3 years ago, my bike has been stolen. Last night I was frantically trying to remember the very last moments I had with my two-wheeled friend, it seemed vital that I recall these very last moments - I wanted to make sure we parted on good terms.
Even though I always knew our time together would probably be limited since having your bike stolen is just a part of life in Amsterdam, I'm still sad. For Amsterdammers, our bikes are like best friends - they go everywhere with us, they are there at scary moments, and there at happy moments. They take us to new exciting places we never knew existed. They wait for us, carry things for us, ride through snow & rain, and get us around the myriad of biking tourists.
My dear bicycle was beautiful to me - old and rusty, but full of spark. And it was only Friday, after getting lost with it through the back streets of a new-to-me area of the city that I thought about how truly lucky I have been to have such a fab bike.
Now, I will always be looking out for it, hoping that it has embarked on another exciting adventure, albeit in the hands of another. Of course if I do happen to see it again, I won't hesitate to take it right back. And yes, I am a bit pissed about it, but no one - especially me - knows why humans do what they do.
Goodbye my dear two-wheeled friend, I miss you.
update: guys you are not going to BELIEVE this! French Boy just went for a walk and came back with my bike!!!!!! I am beyond ecstatic. He found it hiding behind an electrical box at the end of the road/canal. It seems someone stole it but decided it wasn't worth it! Woohooooo!!! I love my bike even more now, what a true treasure! This is a serious cause for celebration. Thank you for all your commiserations, but let us be sad no more!