05 August 2012

Loss of Ride

Rusty Steed was my friend.  I'd had to trade off Truckovna Trucksky when I went blind a few years ago.  Then I fell back full time to Rusty Steed, a 1970s vintage Nishiki Olympian frame, a decent Nip transmission,  white Brooks saddle and  a back rack.  Looked like shit.  Rode hard, put up wet.  The tape on the drop bars was held in place with yellow electrician's tape.  Looked like shit, rode like a dream.

Then, this evening, some pusswad stoole it.

That was my ride, dude.  My everyday and unavoidable ride.  I don't drive,  Rusty was not a hobby, Rusty was my way to work, Rusty was my grocery-getter.

Fuck you, dude. And whole I'm at it, fuck your parents for raising a child who conflates "unattended" with "mine".

I was about to start another job as messenger downtown.  You just stole my means of work.

Not so very fucking long ago we hanged horse thieves.  Same goddam reason. Steal a man's ride, you've stolen a man's livleyihood.

1 comment:

Julie said...

:( sorry to hear about the theft ...