Over the past few years I have taken to restoring neglected bicycles so that they may once again lead a purposeful and useful existence. I have found that a little cleaning and tuning is all that is usually required for them to be reclaimed from the Isle of Misfit Toys, and I get great satisfaction in knowing someone is out rediscovering the joy of riding a bicycle.
In a recent adventure of finding a neighbor a bicycle, I offered to repair the Mom's flat tire. I awoke the next morning to find a bike parked in front of my garage. Assuming this was her bike (and the rear tire was flat) I proceeded to remove the wheel, pull the tube, inflate and submerge it to look for the offending puncture. But there was none! So - I checked the interior of the tire for thorns or the like and the rim for spoke projections. Nothing! So I put everything back as it was, inflated the tire, adjusted the brakes and test-rode it back to the neighbor's house. No one was home so I left the bike parked in front of her garage similar to how I found it at mine.
The next day Karin comes by and asks me where her bike is. Confirming that indeed it was her bike that I "fixed", she said she'd go home and check with her son - maybe he had taken it inside the garage. And then. Karin calls to inform me the bike has been stolen. The police are on their way. I feel terrible of course but she tries to put me at ease. After all, it was not my crime. I offer to come assist in filing the report as I can of course identify the bike quite accurately.
I pull down a spare bike from the ceiling and inflate the tires. I'll offer this bike to be used until hopefully we can find her bike. I swing around the curve and see the Sheriff's cruiser parked at the curb. I pull up into the driveway and...there's the bike! Wow! They must have found it overnight and were ready to return it to the rightful owner!
Looking next door, I see Karin AT HER HOUSE talking to the officer. I call to her and point to the bike. Hey! Look! Here's your bike! The officer simply gets in his car and drives off with no further acknowledgment. Clearly he had met his match. The lunatic Dreyfus has nothing on me.