Why I Looked for a Crack House

My Bosnian friend is always up for adventure. A few years ago, a thief stole my beloved eBike from my condo's parking garage. A sleepy condo, many inhabitants are professors or staff at Carleton University; I don't suspect them. One day I went to the parking garage to take my car somewhere when I noticed something—at first, it was a vague sense that something was wrong. And then I realized that my eBike wasn't there. My first impression was that I'd locked it up at the cafe or somewhere and had forgotten about it; but when I walked up to where I park it, I saw the U-lock shackle had been cut (likely by a battery-powered angle grinder; you can see, on YouTube, how feckless such locks are in the face of this kind of power tool).

I filed a police report with the Ottawa Police Service, and several days later a detective got back to me. I said that I wondered whether it was an inside job; despite the apparently reputable inhabitants, the condo is extremely quiet, and would be very difficult for anyone to enter unnoticed by, for example, tailing a car into the parking garage. The detective said probably not—thieves often tail cars into parking garages (apparently my untailability theory was unconvincing). I persisted; I said, "I still think it could be an inside job." He said (and I can picture him leaning into the phone as to impart great wisdom), "They were doing that to us, too."

"They were?"

"Yes. The were coming into the station's parking garage and stealing our bikes."

"They were?!"

"We had to install additional cameras."

At this point, I just gave up—if the police can't stop thieves from coming into the station and stealing their own bikes with impunity, they simply cannot help me. I even thought, They don't even want your bikes—they're doing this just to send a message! The detective completed the police report so that I could make an insurance claim.

But I still wanted something...something like vengeance. So I went online and put the details of my stolen eBike, and a photo, on the website 529 Garage. I had modest hopes that somebody would see it and contact me. And sure enough, within about week, I received a message; it stated:

I went to Chinatown to try to find my bicycle. And I saw Opposite the [pho restaurant], go in through a small door, there is an electric bike inside, I only looked at it for a few seconds because too many [drug users] inside I felt unsafe. I am not sure if it is white or gray, but the frame looks very similar. You can go check it out.

It just so happened that, on that day, my friend and I had plans to go to a nearby pub. And since there was no way I was going to check out a crack house by myself (not owning any brass knuckles), I asked him if he would join me on this quest. And being a good friend who doesn't seem to have any fear of this kind of thing (he is from Bosnia, after all!) he was all in. I didn't even have to wonder what his response would be—I knew that he'd back me up.

It was a warm, overcast, late-summer afternoon. We took our bikes (luckily, I have several) to the restaurant in question and looked across the street—but there was no obvious crack house. A restaurant, another business, yes, but no dilapidated residence. So we expanded our search onto a perpendicular side-street. We found a group of apparent drug users loitering about near a bench, but the nearest building was commercial. To make sure, we looked in all the side windows. But no bike. We then circled the block, looked in more windows, expanded our search a few side streets in either direction, looked in yet more windows, all to no avail.

Afterwards we went to the pub; I was satisfied that we'd at least tried. To this day, the whereabouts of my eBike remains a mystery. I've given up on finding it. But, if you see it, please let me know—for I'm certain that wherever it is, however dodgy the place, my friend will be up for another adventure.