Losing a bike felt different than losing other things of comparable value. Perhaps it was the bond formed with an object used to perform daily functions. Or the centrality to so many memorable experiences. Or its mobility. Bikes are an easy thing to anthropomorphize. I owed it to mine to try to get it back.
The days following the theft of my bike, I was consumed with thoughts of recovering it. I traipsed through various homeless encampments, which were littered with bikes and bike parts, and asked the inhabitants about sightings. I stalked online marketplaces, thinking of different search terms and filters and refreshing over-and-over. I eyed every bike that passed me on the street, (especially ones that were silver, like mine).
My sleep was filled with dreams about my bike - about finding it after it just being inexplicably “lost”. About getting security camera footage that led me to the thief. About stealing it back. In my waking hours, I fantasized about confronting the person that stole my bike, if I were to find it for sale online. Rage welled up as I imagined what I would do to them.
I found out that my renter’s insurance covered the loss. But, that only dampened the pain. I wanted my bike, not another one.
I was distracted at work and exhausted outside work. As much as I wanted to pursue my bike, my approach was unsustainable. I wondered if I should just cut my losses and accept that it was gone. Besides, this wasn’t the first time that I had lost something of sentimental value. In fact, I have lost several such things. I made a list:
- A passport filled with stamps
- A camera with photos from a trip
- Drivers license (well, a few, to be accurate)
- Phones (usually broke after being dropped)
- My mother’s high school class ring
- My mother’s scuba diving license
- Laptop (filled with story drafts and photos)
- Cats (died or parent gave away)
Each loss was intensely painful at first, but the pain dwindled until my visceral response to the memory was almost none (with the exception of the cats who will always hold a place in my heart).
Not only have I lost things of sentimental value, but I have even thrown some away. These include:
- Brochures/maps/tickets/other ephemera
- Childhood toys
- Childhood art
- My first car
- Trophies/certificates
Ultimately I chose to get rid of these things because I valued the space more than the items. Throwing them away wasn’t always easy. But, there was a lightness that came from the recognition that I am not defined by the objects around me. What these items symbolized was divisible from their materiality. I have memories of the majority. And photos of the rest.
So, too, was my bike an object that served its purpose and passed through my life. While it did make up a portion of my identity (I was that lawyer that biked to the office), that was nothing that a new bike wouldn’t address. I’m still the same me. Still the same person capable of future adventures. Just as in the past, losing an object did not mean losing myself.
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