When I engage the front door’s dead bolt, or remotely secure my car doors, I do it by habit, without much thought. Not so with my bicycle: I need to remember the lock, bear the burden of its weight (a function of its invulnerability, increasing with a cycle’s worth and the crime rate around it), then find an immovable object to which my bike can unbreakably bond. As I uncoil the cable then shut tight the shackle, I’m fighting the forces of another’s temptation—and when walking away, I look back to see things as they might, betting that theft appears more trouble than it’s worth. How lighter life would be if everyone were able to buy the bicycle of their dreams.
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