To MY Dear Beloved Bicycle Thief

My dear beloved bicycle thief,

I do hope and pray that this will reach you at your best possible condition of health. Last night, after finishing work at 7:30, I went down with lots of hope to ride my bike home; it was missing. I searched the whole neighborhood desperately. I was hoping that for emergency purposes you had used and abandoned it somewhere. I went, back and forth in the spot, where I had locked the bike in the hope that, out of pity, you would put it back. Alas! You had stolen my bike again.

I have been riding bicycles for the last half century: 25 years in Iran, 8 years in Poona (India), 5 years in Montreal and 12 years in Toronto. I always properly lock my bikes and nobody has stolen my bikes anywhere. Except for Toronto where, during the last 12 years, I have lost 12 bikes. Today, during my 4 Kilometers of walking from home to work, I continued eating watermelon seeds and thinking of you, my dear bicycle thief. You know better than me about the ever-increasing prices and the skyrocketing rents. Therefore, it will be difficult, if not impossible, for a working person like me to buy a new bike. Now that you have taken away my bike, I will have to continue walking for months to come. Please do not feel bad if, in the course of these long walks, I swear at you, especially when it turns cold.

In an attempt to discourage you, I stopped riding brand new bikes and chose to buy and ride dilapidated ones. My friend, Bruce, bought me a very old rusted bike from a garage sale by paying one and a half dollars Canadian. Thank you for leaving this bike alone, but I could ride it only for two months before the chain broke in the middle of the road, left me helpless and caused a big laughter from the passer-bys.  I went to Bruce again. He took me in his car and we went to almost all garage sales in the city. In the course of two weekends we purchased an octogenarian bike for five odd dollars. I could ride it for 5 weeks only before it stopped forever in the middle of the road.

I was left with no choice but to borrow my son’s bike. I locked the front type to the bars of the bicycle rack downstairs. In the afternoon my client, Roya, came to me and casually mentioned about seeing a bike downstairs without back tire. We both went down. It was my son’s poor bike. Tell me please: what was the use of a back tire and ring for you? Do you know what happened to me that night: I pleaded my innocence by swearing to one thousand Goddesses and Gods on earth and heavens, but my 11-year-old son did not believe it. He insisted that I had intentionally inflicted an irreparable harm upon him to discourage him from riding bicycles.

This time, I did some extra work, saved money and bought a good second hand ladies bike. I had been told that, in our multi-cultural city of Toronto, even the bicycle thieves, respect women and their fundamental rights. I was hoping that you would think I was a woman and spare my bike. I took an additional precaution and purchased the strongest locks in the whole world. It was difficult even for me to unlock it. How did you do that, my dear bicycle thief, without even having a proper key? Is it not better for you, my friend, to quit your job as a petty thief and become a wonderful locksmith, so badly needed in Toronto?

You have so far stolen twelve bikes from me. I have never reported to police and will never do it in future. Let me honestly confess to you that it is not out of my feeling for you. It is due to the facts of life in this big metropolitan city. Due to various reasons, including the downsizing of the various levels of the government, the rate of crimes has increased drastically and will continue to do so. This has made these dedicated children (I mean cops) so busy dealing with critical cases that is not any time for petty offenses. Besides, hundreds of bikes are stolen in Toronto every day and bikes no license plates. That is why I am directly appealing to you.

Since last night I have been staring at all bike riders to see if they are riding my bike. Do you understand what you have done to me: you have turned an optimistic good citizen of Toronto into a suspicious pessimistic guy. Please, if possible, find a positive alternative to stealing poor people’s bikes.

You have stolen so many bikes from me that I have become used to it. This time I am not as stressed as before. In a way, I am turning apathetic to the whole issue. This will, of course, pose another danger to me, to my family and to the rest of the society. Woe to persons who lose their emotions! Dumbness has tremendous personal as well as social costs.

I urgently and respectfully plead to you, my dear bicycle thief, to return my bike immediately. I will borrow money and pay you a reward five times more than the price of my bike. It was not an ordinary bike to me. During the last few months, we had developed mutual love and friendship. It was a part of my family. Please do not separate intimate friends. I work with the Canadian Centre for Victims of Torture, 194 Jarvis Street. You may leave the ike near the bicycle rack, where I had originally left it.

I have one more request from you and your esteemed colleagues.  I came to know that some time back you had cut a tree in order to steal a bike that had been locked to it. Please do not do that any more. It will take years for a tree to grow and in this contaminated city we need trees more than anything else. If in future, out of total desperation, you decided to cut a tree for taking a bike away, please reveal your intention to any bike rider in the road – including this humble servant. I bet you, they would pay you the price of the bike to stop you from causing this environmental harm.

Thank you for your consideration and I am enthusiastically looking forward to hearing from you. With fondest wishes. I am,

Yours faithfully,

Ezat Mossallanejad

A humble bike rider