You Always Lose Something

Who the fuck steals a bike seat?

That’s what I was thinking to myself as this (very kind) gentleman kept explaining to me that someone had swapped out my bike seat. And sure enough, someone put a shitty cheap Roadmaster in the place of my bronze saddle that came with my Scott Speedster. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the nicest saddle in the world or anything, I hadn’t sprung for a Brooks (I’ve personally never loved them when I’ve ridden on them). But it is…was…my saddle. And now it’s on some asshole’s bike.

If you’ve never exited the train at Sacramento Station, it’s kind of a crush of people getting to one of two ramps to take you to a tunnel under the tracks. And while the kind gentleman kept pointing out who it was, I couldn’t obviously see it and I could not get through the people in any way, shape, or form. Especially with a bike in tow. To add insult to injury, he just swapped out the seatposts, and I had my holder for my bike lock on that seatpost, so now I don’t have a fucking holder for my lock all weekend either. So I had that in my hand as I was trying to navigate things.

As fortune would have it, a couple of Amtrak police officers were in the tunnel, but as I expected, there wasn’t a whole lot to say. I didn’t have a description of the person or anything, and let’s be real. It’s a seat…it’s probably not going to be top of anyone’s mind. I was chatting with the cops a bit, but then it was clear a situation more worth their time was developing (a couple folks in the tunnel were being…a bit unruly). So I walked along, kept chatting with the kind gentleman (I never did get his name) where we commiserated about who would do something like that, and said our goodbyes.

Before I left, I decided to make a quick call to the Amtrak Police. I didn’t expect much, but I figured I might as well run that down while I was still at the station because stranger things have happened. I got a number from a station agent, waited a couple of minutes, and one of the officers I ran into in the tunnel greeted me again. We chatted a bit, he took some basic information, and he also commiserated (“a bit of a bike guy” as he put it). I told him it was not the end of the world in terms of value, but I appreciated his diligence when he said he’d take a look, though he did not expect much. Frankly, neither did I.

Now I’ve had a seat stolen before. When I saw Run the Jewels at Bill Graham years ago, some absolute fuckstick of a human took my seatpost and saddle, leaving me with a bike with no seat. Who are these people? In that case, I walked across Civic Center, put my bike on the rack of the 5, and went off into the night to sort it the next morning. Again, it was not much of a saddle. I’ve never really invested much in them. But it’s the principle of it all.

This time around, the perpetrator just swapped out seatposts near as I can tell. He didn’t even put the seat back on straight! So I looked at this piece of crap Roadmaster seat that wasn’t even on straight, sighed, and took myself off to the hotel. After sorting my stuff, I found a nearby bike shop where I could at least chat with a mechanic who had a hex wrench handy to adjust the damn thing.

It’s rideable, but it’s definitely not my saddle. It’s not the problem I was hoping to solve this weekend. And what kind of person does this? I’m pretty grateful I locked my bike on the Capitol Corridor, who knows what other pieces might have wandered off, or if the whole damn thing would have been gone. I’ve done this ride well over a dozen times, and never had a problem before. But I’ve definitely had the problem of pieces that are not absolutely locked down disappearing (see previous seat story). I don’t know what it says about where we are as a society that this is not even the first time I’ve had something like this happen.

Officer Newton called me back to say he’d looked at the video and there wasn’t much he could see. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting it at all. I appreciate the diligence on his part. It’s good to know despite a bad experience there is still some good in the world and all that. It’s all still frustrating, even as some of my faith in humanity was restored by that call, you always lose something. These kinds of experiences erode social trust. Like…it has me wondering if it’s worth it to bring my bike on the Capitol Corridor when I don’t need it. But Sacramento is a better city by bike, and since they seem to no longer have any sort of bike share, it’s not like I have a lot of other choices. Besides, I’ll surely forget by the next time I do this trip. Or maybe I won’t, idk. Maybe it’ll be a long held grudge against the wrong entities. It’s not the Capitol Corridor’s fault, and frankly, Officer Newton was more helpful than I could have hoped for, other than there’s nothing anyone can probably do to recover that saddle.

As for me, it’s another problem to solve. Not the one I wanted to, but whatever. It’s also an opportunity. As someone who can be a bit of a creature of habit, maybe my next saddle will be life changing, and my perfectly fine previous saddle before will not be missed! I don’t know. It’s not how I would have chosen this, but that’s all a bit irrelevant now, isn’t it? The flip side of this coin is opportunity. And another quirky story. I have so many as they relate to the bikes I’ve owned, I’ve truly done some incredible things to my bikes over the years (complimentary and derogatory?). This terrible saddle will get me through the weekend, but I cannot wait to see the face of the folks at the shop when I explain what happened to them on Monday. And to get this fucking saddle off my bike and reclaim something of my own.