Why would you do that?

My office is over a mile away from the BART station, and I hate walking. There were thus two options available: ride the bus and pay $3.50 a day (actually $4, because the bus doesn't give change—don't get me started) or buy a bike. Being the cheap soul I am, I bought a slightly rusty mountain bike at a garage sale. I bought myself a sweet u-lock to protect my piece of junk, and left it at the station overnight.

It served me well for a good two days. But when I returned to Berkeley on Monday, something was amiss. You might think, at this point in the story, that my bike had gone missing. Not so. I stared at my bicycle for a good two minutes in astonishment. More specifically, at the gaping hole where my seat was supposed to be attached.

Yes, you read that right: The thief left the bike, but took my ripped, old seat, including the pole that attaches it to the bike. Buying a new one would probably cost me more than I paid for the bike and the lock. I was at a loss. It had been such a cost effective plan, but it had been abruptly ruined by some ass with a fetish for old, uncomfortable bike seats.

So my bike has been sitting at the Berkeley BART station missing a vital component for the past three weeks. I pass it every morning and stare at it longingly. Cursed walking.