Editor: This is an open letter to the person who stole my bike:

This person stole my orange bike at 6:55 a.m. on Saturday morning, in the parking lot of a hotel.

On Friday morning, I commuted to work on my bike, as I do most mornings. I do not own a car and I do not have a driver’s licence. I am not a confident driver and believe that our planet could use a few less cars on the road, so I choose to ride a bike as my mode of transportation.

I locked it up as I always do, at the back of my workplace, using a heavy u-lock and well within the view of the cameras I can monitor all day long.

But Friday was not a typical work day for me. A few hours into my shift I became extremely ill. I had to have a friend pick me up and take me home.

My thoughts were consumed by the horrible pain I was in, not by the thought that there are people like you waiting for an unfortunate circumstance to fall on someone so that you may prey on their misfortune. So my bike remained locked up overnight — until you came along at 6:55 on Saturday morning, casually strolling up, cutting my lock and riding away with your new possession.

It all happened in under three minutes (I watched it all from our security system cameras).

I bought that bike four years ago, and paid $250 plus tax for it. In that time I have put thousands of kilometres on it.

I know that it is not worth a lot of money, at most you might get $50, if you are lucky. Perhaps money was not what you were after. Perhaps you just wanted to take it out for a ride and then trash it for kicks.

I am not sure what your motive was or what you stand to gain from an old beaten-up bike, but this is what I lost. I lost my mode of transportation to and from work. My six-minute bike ride is now a 40-minute walk. I lost my way of getting to and from the gym, my father’s house, the grocery store and all the other places that I need to go on a day to day basis.

I do not have enough money to replace my bike, but unlike you I will not go take what isn’t mine.

You took a good friend. My bike was not only a mode of transportation. I logged many hours riding the trails, trying to clear my head while going through my recent divorce. You took my workout buddy — by pushing those pedals I lost 50 pounds and regained my self-esteem. But most importantly, you took away a little bit of my faith in humanity.

To my big orange bike — thanks for the many good years, old girl. You will be truly missed.

Melissa Smith,

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