Theft

Two blogs in a very short space of time. I hope the few people who are reading this don’t have heart attacks. That morning I wrote the previous one, I was having other thoughts that I just thought I would like to share.

The topic is theft. We will leave aside for the sake of simplicity the theft conducted by organised bodies, legal or illegal, and focus more on random acts of petty theft (although much well thought out ‘white collar’ theft is indeed petty). Since C90 Dreams was a gurgling baby of an idea the three of us have collectively suffered roughly 4 or 5 attempted thefts (the simple attempt to cut locks with bolt cutters or hacksaws), 1 theft and recovery (Bon’s Maurice ended up in a graveyard with bits missing last year), 1 actual theft (Jamie’s first C90 stolen from outside our place of work) and most recently 1 brutal torching.

The most tangible impact of this is that 2 C90’s have been permanently lost. Jamie’s stolen one was never to be seen again, anyone that reads the Oxford Mail or Oxford Star may already know this. It was front page news on one of them (I forget which). Bon’s faithful Maurice however, was burnt to cinders the night we got back from our trip to the New Forest (September 2009).

The implications of Jamie’s lost one were fairly minimal apart from in monetary terms. It was a week before we were due to set off for Greece but Jamie admirably took the bull by the horns and bought another one by scouring ebay the day after the theft. In the end no disruption was caused other than to Jamie's bank account. Maurice being burned to bits however, is a pretty significant event. That bike hadn’t been taxed since the 80’s when Bon acquired it in the Spring of 2008. He restored it to MOT standard and rode the fucker all the way to Greece and back at 40mph since it wouldn’t go any faster. When we got back he continued to work on the bike on and off for a year (never going more than 40mph, sorry Bon). Then, for absolutely no apparent reason that night after the New Forest, while we were all still on massive natural highs the bike was placed in the centre of the road and set on fire. He now has no bike. It wasn’t just a bike but an embodiment of the original idea, a signifier for everything that C90 Dreams has been about. All those who go inter-railing on gap years or around the world on planes rarely have that vehicle to shower love and meaning upon whenever one feels like it. It is a true shame, and it is massively massively shit.

The battle rages on. I went to pick my C90 up from Jamie’s a couple of weeks ago to take for a service and low and behold, the lock and chain was half severed by some bolt cutters, another failed attempt that next time could be a ‘success’. C90’s appear to be massively desirable trophies to fucking oiks who long to ride them around a field and set them on fire. It makes my blood boil. People leave their keys in the ignition in Greece and don’t fear this kind of treatment.

Get the fuck off my C90, get the fuck off Jamie’s C90 and when he has another one, get the fuck off Bon’s C90. Why do these little pricks want them so much? Do they know what they mean to this whole thing? Of course not. They don’t know anything because their brains are made of chips.

Bon with Maurice & my Red C90 having happier times at the foot of the Acropolis:

RIP Maurice