To a lowlife
August 18, 2008
On the evening of Thursday, Aug. 14, in downtown Carbondale my bike was stolen. I would like to think that this letter finds you, though I doubt you’ll be able to comprehend what you’re reading. You are a lowlife thieving bastard, and I sincerely hope you are reading this from a hospital bed where you’re recovering from an encounter with a pothole, curb or (fingers crossed) drainage ditch.
I understand that you probably desperately need the money you’ll make from stealing my bike to procure more meth. Enjoy it. I happen to revel in the fact that I used my bike to relieve stress, get around town and as a convenient form of transportation, all while helping reduce my carbon footprint, essentially trying to make the world a better place. Furthermore, if I see you around town on my bike, I will gladly take the law into my own hands.
On second thought, I sincerely hope that you used my bike to remove yourself from town. I hope, for the sake of other good bikers in Carbondale, that you are still riding. I hope you hit the edge of town and never look back. You, sir (or madam), are the lowest of the low.
If, as I have suggested, you are still riding away from town I will consider my loss a gift to the fine people of Carbondale, as the streets now contain one less piece of trash.
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