I had a yellow bicycle once. I loved it very much. It was stolen. I haven’t ridden a bicycle since. That was in the third grade, no jus’ kiddin’, that was two years or somethinc now, but that’s a long time isn’t it. I’ve been mourning.

I was attached to my yellow bicycle. It was very heavy. It was made of, I dunno, iron or somethinc. I dared the SUV’s, I dared ‘em to try n’smack me, I’d dent the behemoth with my heavy frame.

It had the most beautiful seat; that was stolen first. It was the original seat. The bike was from the Seventies. How do I know? I could almost give you the exact date. How? Once I came upon two guys looking over my bike dressed in suits. We’re bicycle collectors they said, and we can tell you when this bike was manufactured.

Once I had to steal my own bike. The lock froze. My grumpy bike store guy lent me a small hack saw. After hours and hours in the cold, I finally hacked the lock off. People kept walking by and asking me if that was my bike. No. No. I’m jus’ stealing it.

I’ve ridden a beautiful girl on it to and from an outdoor movie in Bryant Park.

Once somebody accused me of stealing it. That’s my bike, they said. I explained where I got it, how long I had it, way longer than they had had it. It didn’t convince ‘em. It looks like my bike, they said. Really, do you think that, a 1970s yellow Schwinn 3-speed, do ya think, really, there’s only one, hmm, there’s a thought.

There was an unwritten rule. In NYC, an unwritten rule. It wasn’t written. You didn’t steal these bikes. Sure if you left a mountain bike chained to a lamppost even with a lock formed from the earth’s core for more than five minutes in NYC you knew that it would soon be taken, taped, painted and pedaled on by someone (not you) delivering food, but you knew that. Old three-speeds, transportation three-speeds did not get taken.

So there it was the terrible feeling. The thing that was there was not there anymore. The thing you loved, gone. You try various night spots etc., restaurants, movie houses, bars, did you leave it there, maybe you forgot it. But no, you know, it’s done.

Hey, I said to a bike guy, trying to get a new bike, but not having my heart in it, and not actually getting one. I thought there was an unwritten law. No one’s s’posed to take these. Yeah, he said, it usta tabe that way. But now there’s some actual value to them. People like ‘em ‘cuz they don’t think anyone’s gonna steal ‘em.