This is a feeling I don’t want to be getting used to—the sinking feeling that comes when you see the empty space where your bike is supposed to be, accompanied by the recognition that someone has figuratively poked you in the eye.
El Guapo and I were part of a small Berklee Valencia choir performing tonight at the Vox Festival being held at the Universitat Politècnica de València. After our bit we stayed to hear several other performances, but left early because El Guapo had to finish the papier-mâché head that he needs to wear for a video shoot tomorrow. I say we left early, but not early enough to prevent one of our bikes from being stolen. GAH.
We had a bike stolen last year too, and at the time I reflected on the process of trying to find a silver lining in that situation. Tonight I’m again thinking about the best way to process the experience. (If you’ve got ideas for me, put them in the comments!)
I’m always trying to manage pain through looking for something to soften the blow, so I recognize that it was a nice night for a walk, and we only live half an hour away. Whoever-with-the-bolt-cutters only took the one bike (the back tire on the other one had gone flat—but hey! we were walking anyway). El Guapo noted that he doesn’t have things stolen often, and has never been robbed at knife-point or anything like unto it. I guess we could go on and on.
On our list of things to do: el Guapo needs to consider the best way to get to work through the end of summer term, and I need to guard against this experience coloring the way I see our time in Spain.
It also occurred to me that having a bike stolen, and recognizing that we’ve got plenty of money to replace it, could serve as a reminder that maybe it’s time to make another Kiva loan or donate to a cause we care about. The thief who has our bike put a little rip in the social fabric this evening. Perhaps we can find a place to add a few mending stitches.