Or not. Florence is notorious for its bike thieves. I’ve heard in mentioned in a list of big cities that include Barcelona, Rome, and Naples, and that’s not good company to be keeping if the category is notoriety of bike thieves. You’ve all met Grossa Rossa, and you can see that she’s quite the beauty. Big, red, and brand spanking new. Which means “STEAL ME” in Italian.
Well, it happened. Rather, it almost happened. Tonight was one of my friends’ 26th birthday, and she got a group of us together to celebrate at Obikà, which is a fantastic restaurant that I will be talking about at some point. We arrived around seven and I parked my bike, locking it to a very sturdy post and chaining the back tire to the bike frame. Two hours later we leave the restaurant pleasantly stuffed and looking to shoot some Tequila in celebration, and I find Grossa Rossa, still miraculously intact but conspicuously missing a back tire lock.
By some stroke of genius (read: mom’s orders), I bought two locks for my bike, one heavy chain and one cheaper cable lock. The wannabe thief managed to cut the cable lock but was unable to clip the chain or disrupted in the middle of the act. Either way, one of my locks has been destroyed while the other bears scars of bastard-bike-thief-douchery. To be honest I’m surprised that the guy didn’t take something off the bike. The seat is a popular target when the whole thing can’t be carted away, and tires are hot commodities. Nope, everything save for my cable lock is intact. I consider myself incredibly lucky.
Tomorrow morning, however, I’ll be buying myself a u-lock and that bitch is gonna be impossible to cut.
Bike Thief: if I find you, you owe me €20.