Lock n' Loaded: Cracking Down on Bike Theft

Sometimes it can seem like we live in a world gone mad. A two-headed turtle is missing; panda-themed street parties are terrorizing Williamsburg (proving that police don't just pick on groups of idiots on bikes--they also pick on groups of idiots dressed as pandas); and, perhaps most disturbingly, Purple Drank is about to "drop." Trying as times are, I'd like nothing more than to post more pictures of naked women on bikes so that we might all drown our troubles in them. Unfortunately, though, there's simply too much evil in the world for me to bury my head in the seductive sepia sands of bike porn art. I will not sit around Fofonov while the world falls apart around me!

Instead, in the spirit of yesterday's PSA, I remain committed to making a difference. And the one difference I know I can make is helping to reduce bicycle theft. (And of course its half-assed cousin, bicycle component theft.) It seems as though everywhere I look lately I see a poorly-secured bicycle. As recently as this morning, in fact, I was waiting at a red light (not out of safety, mind you, but because crosswalks in summertime are good places for sepia-gazing) when a gentleman rolled by on an eye-catchingly colorful bicycle, got off of it theatrically like a gymnast dismounting the parallel bars, secured it to a bike rack, and went on his way:

Note the manner in which the bicycle has been locked. He could have at least locked it by the downtube and also secured the front wheel without having spent any more time. A second lock for the back wheel would be even better. In the case of my own ironic Orange Julius bike, I have a built-in rear-wheel theft deterrent in the form of the World's Dirtiest Drive Train. (Turning it now sounds like a combination of the Gregory Hines dance from "History of the World Part I" and a tabla solo, and simply attempting to remove the wheel would sully a thief's hand so badly that all I'd have to do would be to follow the trail of grime to his lair.) But this bike looks fastidiously clean, and I'd say an opportunist could make off with those wheels in about 16 seconds without so much as dirtying a digit. He could also loosen that quill stem and grab the bar/stem combo too if he felt like it, since he wouldn't even have to deal with cutting a brake cable.

Here's another unfortunate locking job from San Francisco, forwarded by a reader:

Sure, this bicycle is somewhat less desireable, but the locking technique is still baffling. This rider is using a two-part security system consisting of a u-lock and a cable which a determined rodent could probably gnaw through in a matter of minutes. The most substantial component of the system (the u-lock) is for some reason being employed to secure only the wheel, while the rest of the bike is secured by the cable. (In fairness to the owner, though, I suppose it is possible that the front wheel is worth more than the rest of the bike, so that might explain it. But he still might as well have locked the frame too.) Also, the helmet is right at dog-groin level for maximum urine exposure.

I can't explain why people are unable to lock their bikes properly. All I can do is point these things out when I see them in the hope that others may learn. And the two lessons to be learned from these bikes are:

Lock Up Anything That Can Be Removed

Again, that's "Lock Up Anything That Can Be Removed," not "Lock Up Anything That You Can Remove." I suspect this distinction may be part of the problem. Just becase the owner of Bike #1 doesn't know how to remove his own wheels doesn't mean a thief can't do it either. Sure, you might get your flats fixed at Trackstar, but rest assured that just about every thief out there can operate a wrench and can wrap his mind around the elusive "righy tighty, lefty loosy" principle.

Your Lock Is Only As Strong As Its Weakest Part

This is the lesson of Bike #2. Lock the frame with the u-lock, not the cable lock. Just passing a cable lock through a u-lock does not somehow impart the u-lock's strength to the cable lock. That's dangerous thinking. It's like not understanding that when you have sex with someone you've had sex with everyone they've ever slept with. Think of it this way: the u-lock is the virgin. The cable lock is the person who just got back from a sex tour of Bangkok. Virginity is non-transferrable, but STDs are.

So, with that in mind, let's say you're a savvy, sophisticated urbanite, and you've got a bike to match--like that goofy Trek dragster thing. And let's say you happen upon one of David Byrne's charmingly irreverent bike racks--in this case, the dollar sign. (What could be more fun than locking up to some pop musician's brain belch?) Do you:

#1) Lock the bike to the rack with a u-lock by the front wheel only?

#2) Tether the bike by the seatpost with a piece of yarn to a pretty Monarch butterfly?

3) Throw every goddamn thing you've got on that thing and lock it Pee Wee Herman style?

The answer, of course, is none of the above. You bring it inside with you. Sure, sometimes businesses treat bicycles like wet dogs, but you'd be surprised to find how often you can just walk in with your bike. This is especially true of bars, and it's particularly true of the kinds of seedy dive bars young urban riders are pioneering these days. These are the kinds of bars where, until recently, the bartender wouldn't flinch if you walked in with a 7'10" heroin-addicted transsexual, so what makes you think they care about your lime green fixie? And if someone does give you a problem, you can always throw a trenchcoat over it and pretend it's a person. "That'll be a PBR for me, and a shot of ProLink for my bony transgendered ladyfriend here."