Dec 13 '05 - 602 W - Vote Good + 6 :: Bad - 9 The Bicycle Thieves of Oxbridge
Published December 13, 2005 by Indian Express
By
RUMINA SETHI
Stealing these modest means of transport was something of a famed tradition here.
Like many
university towns, Oxford and Cambridge are predominantly bike friendly.
Almost every student here will have a story of a bicycle theft to tell.
A bona fide Oxbridge experience must include larceny of this sort. My
first bicycle was stolen outside Cambridge. My friend and I had tied up
our cycles together with a thick chain to a lamp post on Gloucester
Green Coach Station and set off to see a play at London’s West End.
When we returned late at night, my friend’s bicycle, the chain and the
padlock were piled neatly against the same lamp post but my bright
green brand new cycle was gone.
The next morning I marched indignantly to the police station where a helpful officer took me to a huge shed full of stolen bicycles. He informed me that some of them had been recovered from the bottom of the river Cam. My bicycle, unfortunately, was not among them. This made me determined to buy the cheapest cycle around so that nobody would be tempted to steal it. I found exactly what I was looking for—a misshapen monstrosity with rather large wheels. But within six months this too was gone. I then discovered that stealing of cycles was something of a tradition here and that students sometimes stole cycles as if duty bound to do so. I walked the rest of my days in Cambridge ignoring the pleasing sight of Anita Desai as she rode her bike with agility past my window each morning on her way out of Clare Hall.
Later, when I took up a fellowship in Oxford, and discovering a growing resentment among the university Green Party loyalists against the depletion of the ozone layer, I desisted against using my car. Following the example of the king of Norway, who rode a bicycle to work, I purchased a bicycle once again. Thoroughly experienced by now, I bought a motorcycle lock with circular grooves that happened to be more expensive than my new bicycle. Confident of my combat weaponry, I went for a late night show of Bandit Queen riding my new bicycle. Deep in discussion about the film with some friends, I walked the long distance home, forgetting completely that I had made the journey on a bicycle. I awoke with a start at dawn when I realised my stupid mistake and almost ran to the Phoenix Cinema expecting the inevitable. But what a surprise! My bicycle was in the same place!
Complimenting myself at my good sense of investing in that lock, I parked myself next to a tea shop to have breakfast. My cycle, now unlocked, was close beside me against the wall. But in the few moments that I looked away to extravagantly tip the waiter, my bicycle disappeared, making this the most bizarre episode in all of my bicycle stories.
A friend of mine also has a rather twisted tale to tell: he had locked the front wheel of his bicycle to a wrought iron roadside bench. When he went back to retrieve it, he found only the wheel chained dutifully. The thief had stolen the rest of it. I am certain the thief is now on the prowl to obtain the front wheel of somebody’s bicycle whose rear wheel is chained.
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