Bicycle Drama

I love my bike. I really, honestly do. It is a pristine instrument of speed and destruction that rattles when the wheels turn and squeals when I break. We have grown very close over the past several months. Where I live, in a small college town where all the way across town is a mere 10 minute walk away, it is pointless to drive, for the most part. I spent the greater part of the summer commuting on my bike, often at 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning. Recently, it has been sitting outside in the snow and yesterday, namely the first day of classes, we were reunited and it felt so good... It has a few more shakes and pains since I last rode it, which makes sense considering its been roughing in out in the cold. But it still stops when I tell it and goes when I bid, the only thing I can really ask of the quality piece of Target equipment, I suppose.
As I said, yesterday was the first time I had ridden it in some time. I rode it to school, and gained a compliment from my modern instructor cause I wasn't driving my butt to dance class. Of course, being in a heightened state of over mind stimulation I had some very smart response ready. That being, "There's no point walking, this town is so small." I meant driving, of course, but that was not the word that came out. Oh well, so now she thinks I'm an idiot, at least I do well in her class.
The afternoon was spent delightfully running errands with a friend and previewing the toys in Dollar Tree to see if they were up to par, time spent neglecting my poor bike... who got back at me for it. My last activity for the day was an exercise class at the gym. It was dark when I set out on my bike, so I threw on both the lights (rear red blinking light and front solid white light, the proper way of night bike riding), went to my class, took the class and came home.
Fast forward to today...
I popped out of bed this morning after the tremendous amount of sleep I got last night and proceeded to get ready for ballet class, not my favorite, but better today than I had expected. I was actually getting my ish together quicker than I had thought I would and was ready to leave for class 10 minutes early. I said a farewell to my roomie and jumped outside to get on my trusty bike... The trusty bike that was not in its place... Or anywhere else to be seen or heard...
I stood for a moment, shell shocked. Where was my bike? It was right there last time I looked... So, before the door was even fully closed behind me, I returned inside and announced that I would not be riding my bike to school because my "trusty" bike was in fact gone. My roomie, who always has a joke ready, and is a joke most of the time, laughed, because she thought I was joking. After an uncomfortable pause of about 5 seconds, she asked if I were serious. Yep, I was serious... someone must have jacked my bike... As shocked as I, my roomie proceeded with the phrase we mostly use when we are shocked, "Whaaaaattttt?!?!"
"Yep," I replied. "Chris had his bike stolen too, a couple weeks ago." That, to me, was just and reasonable cause to assume the bike had in fact been stolen.
Now, I don't know your life by any means and so I have no way of knowing if you have ever lost anything. However, judging that in reading this you are probably human, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you have probably also lost something in your life. If not, this does not apply to you. I know I have. Usually its nothing big, just something that makes life a whole lot more convenient, like my phone. I lost my phone for 24 hours once. And I found it exactly where it should have been, on my car seat because I drive with it tucked in between my knees. That is usually how the story goes. I lose something, I'm calm for a short period of time, I begin to flip out, and then find it somewhere stupid. Water bottles... I always lose water bottles. I don't think I've owned one for more than a couple weeks at a time.
So, once I had concluded with absolute certainty that my buddy, the bike, had been stolen, and had actually resigned myself to walking to school from now on, I remembered that I had been in possession of it recently and where I had last seen it...
In a stunning feat of physical defiance, specifically the defiance of physics, not standing with my arms crossed when my roomie asks me to do the dishes, I had ridden my bike to the gym last night and WALKED home. Imagine that, if you can. It is indeed a stunning feat... one I cannot say I'm proud of, despite how cool it may sound. Fortunately for me, I remembered that I had accomplished this feat, though. My first thought was, Crap, I wonder what they did with it? After I realized they had probably just left it where it was, assuming that the dummy who left it would be back for it, my second realization was that the general manager would be there and see me in my confused state on non-bikeness. I was about to determine to go get it later this evening, but then realized I had better get it now before they wonder who the crap's bike it is and sell it for profit.
So, I skulked down the street to the gym and sneaked in very quietly to grab the item. As I kicked up the kickstand, which I believe is the appropriate use of a kickstand, the rust began to show... or rather be heard, as it squealed with impressive force, temporarily knocking out the hearing in my right ear. This was not what concerned me, but rather I was still trying to avoid being seen as a fool, and had just made a rather irregular, oddly loud noise. So, without looking up, and hoping they weren't looking at me, I hobbled sheepishly out the door, jumped on my bike as fast as I possibly could without bodily injury, and rode away at top, mission impossible speed.
Needless to say, sometimes I scare myself ...