Serious sad face. However, considering I model my life after scenes from great cinematic classics like Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (yes, that's pretty much my typical morning), I vow to track down my trusty velo, Junior, even if it means trekking to the basement of the Alamo. Or maybe just the bicycle sales ads on Craigslist.
Hmm. THIS LOOKS SUSPICIOUSLY FAMILIAR!
For those of you without 20/20,000 vision, allow me to describe that image. It's my bike with a different seat and handlebar tape. Or maybe not. Maybe it's just another two-wheeled awesome-mobile that looks like mine. Goddamit, I knew I should've let my helper newt T-Bone spray-paint my ride red, white and blue, like he suggested! SONOFABITCH! DAMNDAMNDAMNDAMNDAMN! AHHHHHHHH! I'm having a serious heater over here...
But the good news is that the above-pictured bike is still up for sale, at least according to the text message I received from the weird, probable murderer who put up that ad (he does live in Woodbridge, after all...), which means I can flag down a zombie trucker named Large Marge and go see if it is, actually, my kidnapped bicycle! Or I could just drive myself. Regardless, however, if it turns out this is my bicycle, then you can bet I will steal it back. And then get murdered. ZING!
But if it's not, then I guess maybe I'll just purchase a replica of Junior and weep every time I ride it. And then apologize to this poor, unsuspecting salesperson for accusing him or her of being a thief and/or probable murderer on the 'net.
In the meantime, e-friends, consider this a lesson learned. Never lock a bike up in a major city using a lock apparently made of metallic pipecleaners.
Pee-wee: Come on, Dottie. Let's go.
Dottie: Let's go? Don't you wanna see the rest of the
Pee-wee: I don't have to see it, Dottie. I lived it.