Another one for the Charles Street memoirs...

We've now entered our last month at the notorious Charles Street domicile. For better and for worse, we'll never forget our 2 years here. We've got stories galore of what it's like to live here in the heart of the concrete jungle that is Yonge+Bloor. Here's the latest...

The good and the bad...
Last night was our last Bible Study for the summer so we had a dessert party to mark the end of our weekly gatherings. We had just finished enjoying a pleasant evening of fine desserts and great conversation on the roof top garden in our 'sister building' across the street. Security kicked us out shortly after closing time at 9pm and everyone made their way home. All was well in the Charles St world. Then we get a phone call. Our friend Carolyn (who was at the dessert party) calls to say she went to unlock her bike from the bike rings in front of our building when she noticed someone had placed some 'extra protection' on here bike. They had locked her bike to the bike ring with a U-lock. There was a very tiny hand written note on a small square of cardboard that was taped to the lock that said,

This is my bike that was stolen. Call me at 416-XXX-XXXX.

Crime stoppers
So we all read the note. This one was freakin' weird right from the start. Perhaps someone honestly thought this was their bike that had been stolen and they locked it up to ensure they got it back. So we called the number. Guy picks up, english is not so good, but he says he doesn't know what we're talking about, he doesn't live anywhere near Charles St, he doesn't even own a bike, and there isn't anyone who lives with him who could have written this note. So Carolyn's stuck at this point. She could leave the bike there and most likely someone would come by later that night and cut her lock and take it, or we could figure out how to bust open the 'other' lock. We summoned a nearby police cruizer, but unfortunately they had a slightly agitated man handcuffed in their back seat who needed to be taken 'downtown' if ya know what I mean so they couldn't help us. We found another cop, he was too busy but he basically told us there's nothing the Police could do for us. The Charles St security man was more than willing to stand around and stare at the lock, but that was all the help he could offer. The maintenance man said he didn't have any tools that could bust a U-lock. I even tried the ol' Bic pen trick. So as a last resort, Carolyn tries calling CAA to see if maybe they could send a tow-truck that might have a jack or a tool of somesort that could help.

Momma always told me...
I have this bad habit. I can't keep my hands and feet to myself very well. I like touch things I'm not supposed to touch. I was that kid in church who was always grabbing the bibles, donation envelopes, pencils etc. making rustling noises when I was supposed to 'sit still and keep my hands to myself'! So I had been staring at this bike hopelessly locked up to the bike ring for about an hour, wondering if this was the last time I'd ever see it, when I decided I'd sit on it. So I grab the handle bars, put my bum down on the spring-loaded seat, and just then I hear a clinking sound. I look down and I see a small metal key has fallen underneath my feet. At first I thought it was my own bike-lock key, and had simply fallen out of my pocket. But then I realized that I had just given my keys to Kristina. Could it be...? I picked up the key, put it in the lock and presto majesto, problem solved! Whoever put the lock on the bike also decided to place the key under the seat for safe hiding (wink wink) and it must have been jarred loose when I sat on the bike. The whole thing defies any reasonable explaination-trust me, I've thought it through, it makes no sense.

In the end, Kristina got a new U-lock out of the deal and Carolyn got her bike back. A happy ending to a week that had already seen Kristina and Brad's bike's stolen in separate incidents.