After my workout this afternoon, I walked to Foodland grocery store to pick up a few necessities and possibly some lunch before going into work. I didn't see any snacks that I liked at the grocery store, so I left and turned towards my favorite fast food Mexican joint: Cilantro. As I headed over, I saw my bike locked to the rack in front of Starbucks!
I immediately looked it over and texted Bryan (he was at work). I checked a photo on my phone to nail down the details: same small frame, same water bottle holder, same rear rack that I had installed on purchase and most importantly: the yellow registration sticker from the DMV right where I put it.
Score.
Bryan called me back immediately and suggest that I call the police rather than wait and confront the person who currently had the bike. Smart man.
As I was looking up the phone number for the police, a local gentleman who was sipping Starbucks coffee and watching me examine the bike came over.
"Is this your bike?"
I told him it was, and that I was calling the police to claim it. The gentleman provided me with the nonemergency number for the police station and kept me company while we waited for a unit to be dispatched to my location.
As we were waiting, a few other older gentlemen--who were also hanging out at Starbucks (apparently it's a regular hangout for these guys)--threw in their two cents about the situation. Apparently, it is super common for bike thieves to lock stolen bikes up in front of Foodland, then try to sell them. One of the guys was telling me that he had seen a for sale sign on my bike two days ago.
During all this conversation, I had managed to call a coworker and swap shifts with her for a later start time since the police were still a ways out.
While I was on the phone trying to tell a manager about this swap, we saw a tall, lanky guy unlock my bike. The gentleman that I was hanging out with bolted over to him.
He told him that that was my bike, and not to go anywhere.
The guy handling my bike ended up being very nice and courteous and cooperative--we'll call him J. J told me that he had bought the bike a week ago, and that he would never have stolen it because he's a Christian. He told me that he had a bible in his backpack to prove it.
J told me that he had bought the bike from a guy who hangs out at Mala Wharf for $150, then spent an extra $40 on maintenance done at West Maui Cycles--the store I originally bought my bike from. J said that the DMV registration sticker initially concerned him because he was worried that the bike was "hot."
As we swapped stories, J told me that he believed that I was the rightful owner of the bike; however, because he had spent so much money on the bike he wanted to wait for the police to verify my ownership of the bike before he handed it over.
I told him I understood, and I thanked him for cooperating with me. The police arrived soon after and took down our information.
The officers asked if I had my bike registration on me. I told them it was at home, and that I could get it quickly since my house is only 2 blocks away.
The older gentleman that had been keeping me company offered to drive me over there. I told him that would be fine, and we hopped into his truck. As we strapped on seat belts, we introduced ourselves and became officially acquainted. I'll call him Junior.
Once we pulled up to the house, I ran inside and quickly found my registration paperwork and we drove back to Foodland to hand it over to the police.
They only had to look at it for 2 seconds before letting me sign for the bike. Junior offered to drive me and the bicycle back home. I asked him if he wouldn't mind driving me a block further to the bike store at the Wharf. The bicycle seat had been ramped up since I had seen it last, and I needed someone with a wrench to adjust it for me.
Junior gladly lifted my bike into the bed of his truck and drove me over to the Wharf. I thanked him profusely and pumped his hand up and down in an enthusiastic and celebratory handshake. He said he never had a problem helping a damsel in distress.
I got my bike seat adjusted and left it there at the shop while I power walked over to ACE Hardware to get myself a new bike lock.
My first ride on my liberated bike was joyful, sweet and short--the bike store is only 2 blocks from my house. I lashed the bicycle to a tree in front of my yard, running the cable lock through both tires and the frame. No one is stealing squat off my bike!!
Not sure if the original thief will be apprehended. As I was leaving Foodland with Junior, the cops and J were talking about where they were going to find the guy who stole my bike from my house. Good luck! I'm just so stoked to have my bike back. I had kind of given up hope of ever finding it again. I had started looking up on Craigslist for a new bike. In fact, I had just sent an email this morning to someone who selling a sweet cruiser off of Craigslist.
I came home from work this evening with a response from the bike seller. I triumphantly wrote him back telling him that I didn't need a new bike since I had unbelievably recovered my own!
Now I'm off to grab celebratory drinks and dinner with Bryan!!
Yay to having wheels again!!
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