Part 1 (on the bus to Houston, TX): ON STOLEN BIKES

To whom this may concern,

On Thursday, the fifth of October, 2005, you illegally obtained a mountain bicycle at a picnic area five miles south of Nixon, Texas. That red 1995 GT Zaskar, with yellow extended-frame handlebars, Shimano clipless pedals, STX components and Spin (TM) carbon-fiber wheels, initially belonged to me, a cycling do-gooder with an eye on social change. I intended on riding said bicycle to Brownsville, Texas, then along the U.S./Mexico border to the coasts of the Californias.

You, taking advantage of an opportunity for what you must have thought of as a "free bike", have made this venture unneccesarily difficult. As you had the wherewithal to bring a pair of wire clippers from your place of residence to sever the fence upon which my bike was locked, I would have hoped that you would also have showed equal consideration in locating a potential owner sleeping twenty-five yards away. A simple "Hello, is anybody out there?" or "Alright, I'm going to steal this bike now..." would have been sufficient.

Unfortunately this was not the case, and thus I scoff at you, Sir or Madam--scoff at you. I have submitted theft reports to two counties and have been assured by law enforcement officials that they will do everything in their power to not only recover my stolen bicyle but also put you behind the cold bars of the jail cell in which you so justly belong.

I have constructed a new bicycle and will continue my journey, dear Sir or Madam, and henceforth bear you no ill will. I only hope that you truly needed the bicycle and will enjoy full use of it for the rest of its life. That, and I also implore you to notify the rightful owner of its whereabouts. Past wrongs may not be undone, but this story should and must reach its close.

With my sincerest thoughts,
Ryan Riedel

P.S. I hope you don't believe in karma, you scum-sucking dirtbag, because that stuff stings like hell when it comes back and slaps you upside the head.

P.P.S. Soon you will also to understand the joys of what I termed "The Gouchinator".

P.P.P.S. May your offspring have really hairy feet and may you come down with a wicked case of fatty ankles.