Peter Sagal recently had his bike stolen:
I came out today, my bike shoes clattering, and spent a strange thirty seconds staring at the space where it was, denying to myself that I couldn’t see it. Then I found the cable lock, sliced through, on the ground with my helmet. The bike was brand new, black and yellow, as you see, with Time road pedals and an underseat bag with tubes and inflater. Anybody see anybody riding it on the streets of Chicago, hit them with a rock, but try not to scratch the paint.
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