It’s time for another life story! Are these more common because I find them easier to write? Yes. Are they any less entertaining because of this? I hope not.
So our family used to own a lot of different bikes, in all about 7…for 4 people. Over time this included:
- Mountain bikes
- Hybrid bikes
- Road bikes
- Dutch bikes
- A tandem bike (yes, you heard me, a tandem, I stayed well away from the thing)
And all these bikes were locked up in our garage, which was quite secure. They were always locked up because a new bike I’d had less than a week once got stolen from out garden even though it was behind a 10 foot spiked gate. Some people just don’t take no for an answer.
So we assumed they were now secure in the garage, we were wrong. An enterprising thief came along one day, climbed over the gate and proceeded to gain entry into the garage. We knew this was practically impossible through the main garage door, but what we hadn’t accounted for was the side door. This door was wooden and hadn’t been opened since we bought the house, I don’t even think we had a key. That didn’t stop the thief however, who proceeded to break the lock and prise open the door.
What greeted him was a mess, as everything was piled in front of the door as if it was just another wall, so there was no easy access. But as we have already established, this wasn’t a thief that was giving up easy, so he fought his way through the tools, bike racks, garden furniture and other assorted things we kept in the garage, until he got to the bikes. It wasn’t until after this incident that we had a bike rack bolted to the floor in the garage and locked our bikes up to it, so at this point the thief just grabbed the nearest bike and started to pull it back out the way he had come.
This is when my Dad showed up. Apparently the thief hadn’t done his homework properly as it turned out that my Dad was actually home while this was going on. At first assuming the noise was another family member coming home he soon grew suspicious as nobody entered the house. Stepping out the back door he spied the thief as he returned through the side door, bike in tow, struggling to get it through all the clutter he had climbed through.
“Hey”, my Dad shouted angrily.
That was the extent of the exchange between the two men, as our brave thief decided that now was the appropriate time to vacate the premises. In other words, he panicked. But he had a problem, my Dad was now between him and the gate, so he did the only thing he could, he legged it down the garden. Our garden was pretty long so he had a good few seconds to consider his options, albeit being under pressure from my Dad chasing him down. He saw that our 6 foot garden fence at the back had a bench in front of it, which in essence meant he only had to vault a 4-ish foot fence to escape.
Thinking this was his best option he powered onto the bench and leaped over the fence without even breaking his stride. It was at this very moment he realised his grave mistake, while our back fence was about 6 foot high, the garden behind us wasn’t on the same level, which meant that there was about an extra four foot drop on the other side. Now falling down a drop of at least ten feet with all the gracefulness of an elephant, he let out a panicked wail…maybe more like a scream.
Following a distinct thud there was silence for a few seconds as my Dad caught up and hopped onto the bench to see what had happened to the thief. Peeping over he was just in time to see the man, clutching his side and limping, skulk away out of our neighbours garden, tail set firmly between his legs.
Funnily enough we never saw that particular thief again.