There I was sloppin' through the CCT muck when I came upon a peculiar sight. An abandoned bicycle right there in the middle of the trail! I mean smack dab in the middle, blocking everything.
I thought about asking the guy rolling around in the mud about it, but he seemed preoccupied with his ankle. He was holding it and rambling on about an ambulance or something.
He wasn't overly interested in moving and I was even less interested in moving him. So instead, I stole his bike. What? It's not like he was using it or anything.
It was relatively easy, like taking candy from a baby. All I said was, I got a guy (or a girl as this case may be); I'll call her. We'll take care of that multi-thousand dollar bike for you. wink wink
Here's my card. Yeah, ignore the logo; I promise I won't send your bike overseas. We'll call you tomorrow. And away we went. No one even questioned the speeding Subaru going the wrong way, backward, UP Connecticut Avenue. Candy. Baby. Wheel SUCKER.
Sincerely, imagine a small fender bender on 16th Street. You're sore, maybe have some whiplash, and an ambulance shows up wanting to take you to the hospital. Sure, better safe than sorry.
Then off to your right, a stranger appears, hand outstretched. "Oh, you poor thing. Here let me take care of that for you. Sure, I can take your car, no problem. I'll bring it to you tomorrow. Here's my card. That's me there, ChopShop Specialist. I'll take REAL good care of your car. No worries...."
....and you willfully, thankfully even, hand over your keys...
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