boulevard of broken dreams

Guys, I've been riding a bike. Daily. As part of my commute! Can you tell how proud I am of myself? The many changes of the past year have made me want to hide in bed all day. So any time I take a risk to learn a new thing or tackle a new challenge, I feel bold and empowered. Just yesterday morning, I was in a real rush to get to the train station from home on the bike. Usually I pedal very slowly on the sidewalk (don't worry; this is America! no one is ever walking on the sidewalk), but yesterday, I decided to ride like a responsible cyclist in the road for certain stretches. I used hand signals, I acted like I owned the lane, etc. A real accomplishment!

So, of course, I get off the train 12 hours later and head over to retrieve my bicycle, only to be greeted by this sight:

Can you tell? The seat is missing. What kind of jerk goes around stealing bicycle seats? Admittedly, it was a nice seat – Dave had upgraded it from the seat that came with the bike. But still! Even worse, it was dark, windy, and rainy when I got off the train, too. Good thing that Stephen had already planned to pick me up from the station: because after filing an official police report, the last thing I felt like doing was pushing my bike home alone in the dark. Now I'm back to walking to a less desirable train station until I get a chance to go to the bike shop. What's the point of living in the suburbs if you can't even leave your bike seat at the train station? Ugh.