Spider Man Tried to Steal My Bikes

A man tried to steal our bikes. Let me rephrase that. A man tried to steal our bikes from our second floor balcony. I will back up a bit… Typical California sunny Saturday. Relaxing at home, playing some online Call of Duty with friends in Michigan, when our dogs start to bark like crazy at our balcony window. Now, I have two dachshunds, which is German for, “Barks at everything,” so I think nothing of it. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see a man’s head slowly arise. I think, “Well, maybe he’s a window washer?” A window washer on a Saturday is strange, but maybe he is running late. Then I see the man’s hand attempt to reach over my railing, and grab, not one, but two bikes. I immediately open the sliding door, and calmly exclaim, “May I help you?” The man looked up, jumped back to the ground, and began to apologize, “Sorry man….I….I was going to steal your bike. That was wrong.” After a few four letter words exited my mouth, he turned around and began to exit the courtyard.

Please note that as all of this was going on, the two friends I was playing with online could hear all of this happening in the distance via the gaming headset I had left on the table. Through the barking and yelling, they concluded I either was being attacked, or Publishers Clearing House just showed up at my door with a check for one million dollars.

I dash for the building office, and quickly explained the odd chain of events that just happened. A maintenance man followed me into the courtyard. I again began to describe it all, ending with, “And he had a bright green back pack.” The maintenance man pointed and said, “You mean that guy?” I looked up and saw the would-be bike thief transforming into an official bike thief, riding off with our neighbors bike (we later learned these neighbors also live on the second floor). “Yep.” He shouts at him to stop. But the bike man looked back in what I can only describe as, "apathetic surprise." He then hoped off the bike, and began to run faster than any man had ever run before. He made those Kenyan Olympic guys look like me in seventh grade during Track and Field meets (slow and allowed to play exhibition only, out of pity).

The maintenance man went left, and I went right. I speed past a few other tenants and say that stereotypical movie chase line, “Did you see where that guy went?!” They pointed straight, and I continued my pursuit. I exited the building property and see the bike thief slow down his pace, and adjust into a leisurely walk, as if this is a typical weekend event for him. The maintenance man is no where in sight, so I yell some more four letter words at the guy, but realized making a citizens arrest to the Flash by myself would be a mistake. So I snapped a picture and let him continue his Saturday.

While this was happening my wife was one the phone with 911. The cops showed up about thirty minutes later. Apparently bike theft is not a high priority in a town where people on meth dress in Chewbacca costumes and ask you to take photos with them. We explained what happened, and one of the officers was kind enough to pretend to care.

I knew that man would never be caught. I knew other people’s bikes were still in danger. But that man taught me an important life lesson:

There ain't no mountain high enough,

Ain't no valley low enough,

Ain't no wall perpendicular from the ground enough,

To keep me from getting my bike potentially stollen, babe.