F*@%$ng Transit Karma

Last night and tonight were the MARTA hearings on the cuts.  I didn't go.  Hopefully That's MARTA! attended and will give us an update, but I felt like I already know the cuts and the people screaming at MARTA staff just annoy me.  I didn't have the heart.

That transit karma came back to bite me in the ass.

Yesterday I bought a bike.  I had spent months thinking about it, weeks looking at bikes, and days test riding bikes.  I fell in love with the Giant Citystorm, but wasn't going to pay $1450 for a bike, no matter how pretty it was.  It comes with matching bags.  It really is gorgeous.  So instead I found a lovely Raleigh Route 4.0.  Dark blue, which really is a kind of teal color, and I rode it around and it was awesome. 

I took Two to the store to gain his approval.  He thought it was a good choice, so I bought my bike and all the lovely accessories and loaded it onto the bike rack on the back of my car.

See, I thought that every good environmentalist and transit aficionado needed a good bike.  I have had bikes growing up and spent most of my childhood riding up and down the river with my friends.  We all lived so far apart that bikes were a necessity to hang out.  And to get to the best swimming holes.  (Growing up in south western Virginia really is quaint, and awesome).  But I hadn't ridden too much as an adult until my stint in Florida, where I learned how awesome and easy it was to ride a bike where it's flat.  You hardly have to do any work at all.  Peddle a few times and just soar.

Now I'm living in the ATL and a bunch of my friends are bikers to the extreme, some of them car free, like Two, thus making him my resident bike expert by default. Compared to SWVA, ATL is pretty flat.

So I bought a bike, a lovely bike, and the whole ride from the store to a sandwich shop on Peachtree I kept checking it out in my rear view mirror and grinning stupidly.  I was tickled about that bike.

When Two and I were in the sandwich shop, it was stolen off the rack on my car.