There are many things that can go wrong in the course of our lives. For the most part, we overcome them and soldier on. Of the many misfortunes transpired within our forgotten pasts, there is one particular pathos that we can never seem to fully erase. We never forget the day we lost our bike. It’s because we lose so much more at that moment than just the steel and rubber. Our bikes to us are often so much greater than the sum of their parts, especially to a kid. I suppose that those of us who have lived it can always feel sympathy when we hear of someone losing their bike, and perhaps a bit of anger at the thought of some heartless thief out there possessing what was supposed to always belong to us. There are two classic films that put all of this into a great visual and emotional perspective, Vittorio De Sica’s 1948 classic “Ladri di Biciclette“, and Tim Burton’s 1985 manic “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure“.
Rarely have I ever encountered anyone who successfully recovered a lost or stolen bike. As a kid, I always imagined that all our lost bikes where somehow spirited overseas somewhere, in a great international stolen bike network. I could almost picture my beloved lime green Schwinn being misused by trained Baboons at some roadside carnival somewhere near Istanbul. So, when I came across these hand written signs around my neighborhood today, It made me smile. That’s one bike that hopefully will go home again. Thanks, Mister. From all of us.