On the road again!
Hours after news of my stolen bike hit the Interweb on BrooklynPaper.com last week, your faithful, bike-riding columnist (that’s me, silly, not the late Murray Kempton!) got an intriguing e-mail from an anonymous fan of The Brooklyn Paper.
“You’ll find a present locked in front of room 633 at 55 Washington St.,” the e-mail said. “The lock’s key is attached to a sticker attached to your pedal.”
Like any newshound, I was eager to solve this mystery, so I headed to my old office building and, sure enough, discovered an almost new Trek 7100 chained to a building pillar.
The key, as promised, was concealed under a sticker. On the sticker was a picture of me from last week’s paper, looking somber and annoyed about my stolen bike (nice touch).
I took the Trek out for a spin and being back in the saddle again brought back memories — memories of me darting from one big breaking news story (freedom for the famed stoop drinker, for example) to the next (Ayveq, the masturbating walrus).
But now, of course, I wanted to solve the mystery: Who put me back on two wheels?
This wasn’t going to be easy; after all, everyone in Brooklyn was moved to action by the story about theft of my bike — my second pilfered set of wheels in eight months. Not since I broke my ankle last year has Brooklyn been so riveted by yet another one of my highly public tragedies.
Multi-millionairess Jane Walentas, in whose building the latest bike had been stolen, offered me lunch (though not a bike). Larry Lombardi at Front Street Pizza gave me a free plate of lasagna and regaled me with a story (not quite helpful, alas) of the time his bike was stolen. My sometimes fellow travelers from Transportation Alternatives empathized by reminding me that 60,000 bikes are stolen every year.
And the MTA responded to my plight by raising fares to $2.50!
Finally, a lead: Someone at Transportation Alternatives forwarded me an e-mail saying that if I intended to write something about the new bike, I should report that it came from “a friend of Susan Feldman of St. Ann’s Warehouse, and leave it at that.”
Intriguing; I barely even know Susan Feldman (though St. Ann’s does a great job with the art thing). Still perplexed, I e-mailed my Transportation Alternatives contact again, this time receiving a deeper answer.
“Let Gersh know that his sometimes being nice to others creates for unexpected paybacks out of the blue,” the new e-mail said. “Tell him just to keep up his unbridled and energetic news coverage and to just enjoy the bicycle. People are watching his back.
“Unsated love endures,” it concluded. “He will be happier not knowing the source.”
Wow, suddenly my stolen bike story had turned into a Mitch Albom tear-jerker (and not the good one about Morrie).
But my philosophical, bike-donating correspondent was right: I am happier not knowing the source.
I don’t even have to send a “thank you” card!
Read The Brooklyn Angle every week in The Brooklyn Paper. E-mail Kuntzman at firstname.lastname@example.org.