On Wednesday, October 10, as per my usual routine, I woke up about 9 a.m., showered, ate a hasty breakfast, and hurried from Douglas Residence Hall several minutes behind schedule for psychology.

Unfortunately, that morning, I managed to reach my psych class even later than usual, because, upon reaching the bike rack in front of Douglas, I discovered that my bike had been stolen,—chain, lock, and all.

In the following, I’d like to address not only the individual(s) who took my bike, but also any other persons whose part-time employment happens to include the art of making other people’s possessions disappear.

The simple fact of the matter is that I cannot afford another bike. Furthermore, since the bike was purchased at $130 three years back, and my parent’s homeowner’s insurance includes a $100 deductible, I’m looking at no compensation for my loss, whatsoever.

So it appears that I’ll be hiking to the Psych/Math Building three times a week, not to mention the numerous classes I have in the Art Building.

I’m not writing this letter in the farfetched hope that my bike will be returned, but as a plea to those of you who participate in such questionable, immoral activities to realize exactly who you’re stealing from.

For the last week, I’ve managed to live on two dollars, pocket lint, and less than half a pack of cigarettes, with next week looking just as bleak—and I consider myself one of the “better-off” students at college. I fear for those with less than me, especially the persons who’ve already had objects “liberated” from their dorm rooms.

I also don’t care much for living my life in a paranoid frenzy, where I have to keep checking my back pocket to see what’s missing lately. Nor do I much enjoy being informed that it’s my fault that my bike was taken because I didn’t have a stronger chain—that has to be the worst cop-out for refusing to accept social responsibility that I’ve ever heard.

However, I do not place any of the blame on the University Police—they can’t be everywhere at once, and they shouldn’t have to be—and I’d like to personally thank Sergeant Taylor for the courteous assistance which he did offer.

In closing, I’d like to ask all of you out there in the “business” a favor—and since you already have my bike I really do think that you owe me one.

Next time you set your hands on something which doesn’t belong to you, stop for a second. Think about the person who owns the object.

How hard did they work for it? Are you certain that it’s replaceable? Are you positive that you really need it more than they do? Then, decide how you’d feel if you were unjustly wronged.

Pete Schuh

Studio Art

Freshman