Glad you did this thread, Min. I would have left the house with a rusted-open lock if you'd not. Since we're here, I tidied up a bloggy type piece I started a wee while back, but then abandoned:
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As with any other sport, lifestyle, fashion statement yadda yadda that a freely confessed obsessive like myself can entangle him or herself in, cycling is a mine of milestones as deep as the mutant offspring of the Marianas Trench and the Dalai Lama. I didn't so much collect one recently as I did dance and cheeter round it like a 2001 protohuman with a monolith, but I think I got close enough for Zara to start thrusting. If your name is Zara, I do apologise for the cheekily inserted 'r'.
The milestone I almost passed, the badge for which I threaded the needle but did not sew on, the scalp I did not remove but did get a hulking friend to beat someone to death with a baseball bat nearby, was that of closely resembling a bike thief in the course of retrieving my own device, whilst remaining unmolested throughout.
I say I only approached this Rubicon rather than bridged it since I didn't have to break the lock or chain - in the end, walking home and back for some oil freed the gummed parts and united me with velomobility - but for the ten or twenty minutes of standing hunched over the bike I suspect I appeared bent as a butcher's hook, and from the suspicion I think I detected in the faces of onlookers, was not alone in doing so. Maybe I have an honest face, which was raised heavenwards(or more accurately f***wards, since it was that sake I was oh-forforring) intermittently in exasperation and persuaded the good citizenry of Near The Shops that I was merely an unfortunate bike owner, or maybe they just don't care about bike theft.
Have you ever heard of lower arm strength enthusiasm? It's more colloquially referred to as grip gayness in the virtual shires of weight training, which I found oddly liberating. The forums and other online haunts of weightlifters are/were rife with homophobia, so any instance where homosexuality isn't, in the microculture of any given board, automatically assumed to be Bad And Weak(interchangeable terms) was refreshing. In the course of grip gayness, one often bends. You begin either with drawn steel or nails, but progress to bolts as your wrists and hands(lower arms, even) get stronger, and as with most training methods, one need small incremental steps in order to progess. One of the ways of making any given gauge of nail or bolt harder to fold is to crop the ends of it so you have a shorter lever to apply the stress across.
Why did I bother introducing the almost complete irrelevance above? Because I feel the need to justify why I own a great big pair of bolt croppers. It's not that I'm a bike thief, it's just that I'm a retired grip gaylord and I've never found anyone interested in buying them from me that had a similarly benign reason to own such a larceny-enabling device.
I wonder if anyone would have said anything if they'd seen me using them on the lock, or if they failed and I'd had to knock on recombodna's door(for the bike was parked about fifty feet away) and attacked it with his angle grinder.
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Like I said at the top, the padlock has now rusted into place, thankfully waiting untilafter its last wrestle off the bike. Looks like I'm in the market for a new D too. There's a dreadful pun sitting there involving C3PO's dustbin-shaped bolshy friend, but I recoil from it in horror.