Locking up at Lowe's

Locking up at Lowe’s

Having pedaled forty-seven miles yesterday, I wasn’t in the mood to ride much today—and yet not to take advantage of the ideal weather (68 degrees, cloudless sky, light NW breeze, low humidity) was unthinkable. The bicycle was made for a day like this. And keeping in mind Grant Petersen’s dictum in Just Ride (pp. 15-16) that a short ride isn’t inherently worse than a long one, I figured I’d bike to the nearby Lowe’s. I needed some nylon cord. With a detour to the soccer fields out in the industrial park where the Sunday pick-up games take place, the circuit would total five miles.

I decided to take my Hilsen. Since getting it eighteen months ago, I’ve used it for numberless errands—bank, farmers market, hairdresser, insurance office, etc.—never, however, for a trip to my neighborhood Lowe’s, where, for some reason, I imagined an increased risk of theft. For that purpose I’ve always used my other bike. Sure, I love this other bike, a Redline, but a Redline, which I can afford to replace, is less likely to be stolen than a Rivendell. Isn’t this one way we determine which bicycle to use at any given time? By weighing our ability to replace it with a bike of the same quality?

I said “one way.” I didn’t say “the only way.” As serious cyclists know, it’s not always about money. We’re often attached to bikes costing a lot less than others we own. But a cyclist lucky enough to own more than one rig is often forced into a Sophie’s Choice. Before setting out on a mission that requires a lock, he or she must ask, “Which of my bikes am I most capable, financially, to lose?”

Not that any of this mattered today. Fact is, I’m pretty good at scoping out danger. Risk factor/zero is my goal. Rarely do I have misgivings when walking away from a locked bike to which I will return in, at most, five minutes. I never leave my machine where a thief may be watching. When possible, I wheel it inside a vestibule or lobby, thus hiding it from eyes on the street. For thirty years I’ve been using the same Masterlock and plastic-coated coil cable for theft protection. Although this system wouldn’t last fifteen seconds in San Francisco, it has proved to be a satisfactory deterrent where I live and have lived.

So I rolled my Riv through the automatic doors into the capacious entry of Lowe’s, found a spot along the wall parallel to the rows of shopping carts, checked handlebar clearance, and attached the cable/lock.

I walked away and then lingered a few moments. In strolled a few shoppers seeking things for home improvement. They couldn’t have cared less about my Hilsen. It was there ten minutes later.

What had I been worried about for all these years? All that overthinking, all that anxiety about a bicycle, as if non-cyclists know the difference between a Redline and a Rivendell.

In future trips to Lowe's, I'll take whatever bike I choose, lock it up outside, along the wall where lawn tractors and grills lure shoppers. Among those products, my bicycle is more or less invisible. People see what they're looking for, and shoppers at Lowe's are not looking for a bicycle, no matter how nice, to steal.

Roadysseus

10.20.14