The black bicycle

Strange how the little things can be so upsetting.
Last evening I locked my bicycle in Dublin's Camden Street with the intention of collecting it later in the evening.

Someone was kind enough to drive me home so the bike was left overnight on the street. When I went for it this morning it was gone. That moment of looking where I left it and staring into an empty space. It's a terrible feeling. Something to do with disbelief. Indeed, the disbelief is so strong that you go back again, just to check, maybe you got it wrong. But no, you don't. It's gone. Down on the ground is a lock belong to someone else. The thief must have had a feast last evening.

A bicycle is relatively unimportant in the scheme of things but I had it down to a fine art with positioning bicycles in strategic places, including Heuston and Newbridge rail stations. The mix of rail bus and bike is the perfect way for moving about in Ireland but especially in Dublin.

The fact that neither bus nor Luas goes directly into the complex at Tallaght Hospital must be another Irish transport joke.

The Luas stop is circa a ten-minute walk to the hospital and the bus stop is almost the same. What do elderly or infirm people do? Anyone care?

Is it that feeling of anger and marginalisation that prompted someone to steal my bicycle last evening?

The Gardaí responded quickly. Seemingly a 'professional' is on the prowl and 'feasting' himself or herself.

Just last week I put five new spokes in the back wheel of that bike. All for nothing now, at least not for me, but for the new 'owner'.

It's insured but honestly, that's no good. That bike had a personality, even if the brakes never worked. It could be spotted in any crowded bike rack, at least by me.

Would you steal a bicycle? Would you pay less for something if you thought you would get away with it? Is there a difference?