by keithpaugh

Remembering Mr. Katenga

Are we really stealing bikes still? Have we not reached an age of wisdom and presence where we steal things of monetary value, and not sentimental? iPods, wallets, identities… these are small, expensive and easy to palm; but bicycles! I’d understand if you just really needed a ride, but how much could you be making? What’s your take home? 50 Dollars? 100?

I’ve had fantasies of, late at night catching you in your burglary. Tracking you back to your den of two-wheeler thieves, and confronting you. In my favorite, you pull a knife after my brief demand that the Black Schwinn be returned, and in two swift blows I disarm you of your blade, and smash you in the face with a wrench picked up entering the shop.

I related some of these daydreams to my compassionate brother-in-law Danny, and a few days later received this rendering of the scene:

In my imagination its not as heroic, but no less messy. Your demise is ignominious, and sanguine. One of pity and disappointment.

What is there to learn from this experience? What to be gained more than the void in my apartment stairwell? I can only hope that its gone to happy home, for a reasonable price. To someone who will appreciate its reinforced mountain bike rear rim for jumping stairs, and sometime replace the white walls as they are wearing thin.

I set aside my revenge for thoughts of the good times, and the rides we had. May they begin for someone else.

– Keith Paugh