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Hot Wheels — Page 3
As entertaining as revenge fantasies
may be, more practical measures usually prevail. After
Victoria began a bait-bike operation in 2006, bike theft
dropped nearly 20 percent within six months. China,
with nearly half a billion bicycles, now requires ID
cards attached to the vehicles to combat the high theft
rate.
Amy Walker, publisher of the Vancouver-based bicycle
magazine Momentum, envisions a more novel approach—engaging
the thieves themselves. “I feel like we haven’t
done enough to communicate to people who might steal
bikes,” she says, “to have a good public
information campaign about why bike theft is so wrong—real
proper shaming.” The hypothetical campaign—perhaps
plastering Hastings with posters that say “Steal
My Stereo, Leave My Bike”—may or may not
dissuade potential bikenappers, but it speaks to the
notion of bike theft as a personal assault. “I
have a sticker that says ‘Death penalty for bike
thieves,’” chuckles Amy. “I kind of
laugh at that, but bike thievery is absolutely one of
the worst forms of property crimes. Stuff is stuff,
but…”
TODAY SUSAN is attempting to charm a
police officer. She has a full showroom—two stripped
frames and a purple low-rider that I’m almost
certain Ian was riding earlier that morning. The frames,
she swears, were abandoned in an alley, and the low
rider given to her by a bike shop (she can’t remember
which one). With no evidence they were stolen, the officer
continues his walk through the Hastings “found
items” market, hawkers dispersing in waves as
he approaches and coalescing in his wake.
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"I have
a sticker that says 'Death penalty for bike thieves,'
chuckles Amy Walker, editor of the bicycle magazine
Momentum. "I kind of laugh at that,
but bike thievery is absolutely one of the worst
forms of property crime."
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Next to Susan’s regular spot, the recycling centre
sponsors a small bike-repair shop, where Henry Hulbert
has been fending off sellers for more than five years.
The sign in the window—“We do not buy or
trade, why bother asking?”—curtails traffic,
but he still gets several offers a week. A victim of
bike theft himself, Henry doesn’t blame the thieves
for the epidemic as much as those on the far end of
the demand chain. “It seems like what feeds it
is people willing to buy stolen stuff,” he says.
“People come to the neighborhood to buy bikes
for five or ten bucks because they’ve had their
bike stolen. But if people didn’t buy the stuff,
they wouldn’t have anything to steal.”
Dan Atkinson agrees. “A lot of people go, ‘Tit
for tat—maybe this is where the balance comes
out. My bike got stolen, and now it’s coming back
to me differently.’” Perhaps a buyer-oriented
campaign is the way to go. Perhaps shaming the grey
market—normally law-abiding folks who lie to themselves
about the origins of their hot deal—will reduce
the demand, and thus the supply. Perhaps if there were
a lack of customers, Susan wouldn’t have been
able to unload that purple low-rider in the half hour
I spent with Henry.
I ask Susan about the bike. “Oh, no, I was just
holding that for a friend,” she says. I scan the
market—T-shirts, sweaters, jackets, DVDs, a roll
of police tape, jars of honey, computer speakers, a
Wally Lamb novel—but no purple low-rider. I recognize
a red, beat-up ten-speed alongside the plywood, and
realize I see it only when Susan is here.
“What about that one?” I ask.
“No, that’s not for sale.”
I press her for a price.
“No man, that’s my bike,” she says.
“I love my bike.”
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