I was raised in a powder blue two bedroom, turned three bedroom home. Most of the time the door was unlocked, and sometimes the door was left wide open. When the latter happened I usually waited until someone else got home to walk inside first. Just in case.
We had neighbors who felt comfortable walking into the house without knocking. This was not by invitation from us to do so.
Actually, we were always confused as to why they felt that comfortable.
But life is ever-changing. Except, it seems I had one constant as a child: if I left my bike in the front yard, it would most definitely not be there the next morning. My brothers knew this constant as well.
At times we’d risk leaving our bikes on the front porch. It was set up like an open windowed hallway that led to the front door. There were two ways of getting into the house, the front door and the sliding glass door that was right next to it.
The glass door was sometimes locked.
Our bikes would be brought out of the yard and onto the porch and we’d think they were safe.
The next day they would be gone. We went through a lot of bikes when we were kids.
We had our suspicions on who the culprits were, which would later be confirmed when we’d see one later on a bike that looked awfully like our own. Most of the time we didn’t know where they lived, but even if we did the parents would deny, deny, deny that they knew of a bike that looked like ours.
Welcome to (slightly) lower-middle class America.
It remind me of one of those, “did you even…if you never…”
Did you even have a childhood if you never had your bike stolen?
This made me smile because yes, I had a childhood complete with a Strawberry Shortcake bike stolen from my driveway. It was painfully obvious the next day as to who took it because the neighborhood bully was riding around on it. My mother chased him down, asked him if that was his pink bike, and he gave it right back.
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Haha, I’m glad you got your bike back! I always thought it crazy that some of the little thieves were brave enough to steal ours from the porch.
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I love the image of the neighborhood bully boy riding around on a pink Strawberry Shortcake bike. I think that would almost make it worth having the bike stolen.
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The other part of that image was watching my mother, who was 9 months pregnant, βchaseβ him down. We still laugh about that one.
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Oh that’s such a great image! I can believe you still laugh at that. what a sight. lol!
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I never had a bike when i was a child, allthough as an adult my first bike was stolen, here in Sweden, where every single person already uses a bike!!! memories π
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Oh no! Lol I think it’s worse when something is stolen from you as an adult, because you understand what it really means to have something you worked for, taken. π
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My mom leaves her door open when she leaves. She says she people will think she’s home if the door’s open. She lives in a small town, and she walks everywhere. Evertbody knows when she’s not home.
I don’t remember ever having a bike stolen. Probably because I grew up poor and my bikes weren’t worth stealing. I distinctly remember Spider-Man and Hulk toys I left in the yard that were gone the next day. I couldn’t have been more than 5, but I learned not to leave out my stuff. I also had a little shovel stolen out of the garage. I assume it was so I could help in the garden. The garage door was always open because it was broken, and nobody ever fixed it. Who steals a little kid’s shovel? I guess it was nicer than my bike.
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Lol. That’s kind of funny – about the shovel. I once had my brand new razor scooter stolen. Like, the next day I saw one of my older brother’s friends riding it down the street, but I was too shy to say anything!
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That’s cold. Didn’t your brother notice or say something.
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He wasn’t around at the time. And it was one of those friends that was only a friend when no one else could play. lol
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Misplaced trust in humanity. Color me guilty.
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I never ever had a bike to be stolen. Sad but true. We walked everywhere. I was that one little girl in the neighborhood that longed for a pink bike with a white banana seat. No pity though. I had the cutest white puppy and a home filled with love and laughter. When I grew up I bought myself an apple green beach bike with a white basket for my own dear doggie to ride in.
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We walked a lot too, but having a bike was like second nature. Now, I often forget I even have one π
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