Guess Who's Back!

I'm in the engineering school, but recent events have led me to believe I have another calling. I'm going to go to "be a detective" school. That's probably not a real school, but you get the idea.

The point is, I got my bike back! Let me tell you the story. I was strolling by Cary West and I see a bike on the rack that looks vaguely familiar. Suddenly the gears in my brain start turning, and I start getting pretty excited... could it be? I get closer to the bike and my hopes begin to diwndle. The stem is a different color, and there are stickers on it that weren't on mine.

So I approach the Haro 8.1 with my excitement level down a little bit. But then my intuitive mind begins to think: "There aren't really that many Haro 8.1's around, so it's possible whatever jackass took it made some crude alterations."

My first instinct was to just steal the damn thing back and end it right there. But then my intelligence took over and I figured I'd do it the right way. I called the police and told them that I thought I had found my bike but I wasn't too sure. So a cop came over there and basically told me that unless I had proof it was my bike (i.e. a serial number match) then there was nothing they could do or I could do. The bike would remain there. For now.

So I did some thinking, and I thought "How do I prove this bike is mine?" I called the shop where I bought it from and asked them to fax me my "proof of purchase card" which contained the serial number and other information. They sent the fax to me and I took the long walk back to the bike rack to find out for sure.

I had a buddy of mine get down on the ground and read off the number, and yes, it matched. I was ecstatic. I actually roared with a mix of joy and feeling of triumph. It was amazing. Now all I had to do was call the cop back so they could verify and cut the lock for me. I was victorious. I had won, whoever took my bike lost, because I beat them. And I beat them good.

But anyways, I got lucky. Really, really lucky. The chances of finding my bike were so low, and somehow whoever is pulling the strings up there decided to give me a break. And for that I think them.