@stevenadamswv

Sit back, grab a cocoa, and cuddle with that lovely lady as I tell you a heartwarming tale. It’s a tale of loss and redemption, of drama and laughter, of surrealness and comedy.

Yes friends, it’s the tale of the Christmas Bike.

Picture it: Charleston, WV, November 2010. I’ve already told the first part of the tale; the part where my mountain bike was stolen. So I well let myself explain:

I had so much fun this quiet weekend – between Mannheim Steamroller, coffee with Jennifer, sleeping in (pictured above, I sleep with the laptop stand nearby so I can wheel it up and read your blogs from bed) lunch with Arron – that I didn’t notice that someone had stolen my bike. 

Yup, stolen. I locked it up temporarily in front of the building after I got back from the Clay Center Friday afternoon after I picked up the tickets. I walked to the show that night and apparently, thanks to my terrible short-term memory, didn’t notice that the bike was missing. I didn’t need to bike anywhere Saturday, and by the time I realized that I had no clue where the bike was, I looked out front and saw – hidden in the bushes – my broken combination lock.

I wasn’t angry. It was my own stupid fault for being absent-minded. I felt more bad than anything because that bike was given to me – technically we traded – by Thomas. I don’t need-need a bike, but I don’t drive, so biking was convenient transportation.

“Let the moonlight take the lid off your dreams” « @stevenadamswv

So now we’re up-to-speed. But the day I left for St. Marys I got a text from Thomas (@thomaswsayre) asking if I had planned to bring my Dad’s bike back with me (It was my bike, but I more-or-less left it for Dad to use). I said yes, but then he told me not to. I got the impression that something was in the works, but I had no idea what exactly.

The week goes by and I return home on Sunday, go back to work Monday, grab coffee at Taylor Books, then head back to the apartment when I find this (pictured below) sitting in front of my door:

Flabbergasted, I move it inside. As you can see it’s not a bad bike, though not one I would typically ever buy myself. I called Thomas and asked him to come over. Thomas is practically my bike mechanic since my family of contractors, handymen, and mechanics didn’t pass their genes on to me.

Thomas stops by, takes a look at the bike, and explains that this must have been the bike that Cartney (@cartneyWV) picked out. While he thought it would have been better to take me bike shopping, it thought the bike was alright and explained that Cartney was the one that was organizing the new bike for me.

So I posted a pic of the bike to Facebook and Twitter with a general thank-you to whoever was involved, then texted Cartney to thank her for the bike. Her response? Call me.

I did and explained my gratitude for the bike only to find out that she didn’t know what I was talking about. That’s when I learned what the true surprise was; 11 friends and fans, organized by Cartney, donated money so I could go buy a new bike. The ultimate point was she had no idea where the bike came from. So I went back and deleted the Facebook post and tweet, explaining that I’d post more info as soon as the surreal situation ended.

So, not knowing what else to do, I put the bike back out in hallway until I figured out where it came from. A few minutes later the neighbor that was moving out down the hall – the same one who left the free bowling ball and typewriter I blogged about previously – knocked on the door and explained he had heard my bike was stolen and didn’t have any need for the bike where he was moving and wanted to give it to me as a Christmas gift.

Now, I never spread it around the building that my bike was spoken; I live in a building of mostly seniors and I didn’t want to set off a panic. I have no idea how he found out, but I expressed my thanks, let Cartney and Thomas know where the bike came from, and that was that.

Today Cartney stopped by my apartment and dropped off a card. The front had a quote: “Life is a journey not a destination.” The inside said the following:

“Steven, we all were so devastated to hear about the tragedy [about the bike]. You’re an asset to Charleston & to West Virginia. I can’t think of anything more fitting to say than this: Peddle on, Steven Adams, Peddle on!” 

The card had more than enough money to buy a solid bike. Listed inside the card was the names of friends – fellow journalists, politicos, and supporters – who donated. Besides Cartney and Thomas there were: Carrie 1 (@carrieWV), Ry (@ryrivard), Mark (@markburdette), Josh of the AK Fortysexuals, Alison (@aliknez), Tyler (@tylerpearson) Carrie 2 (@carrienyden), Joe (@josephdeacon), and Brad.

I already said thanks on Twitter, but if any of you are reading this blog, again, I say thank you. Now I have to decide whether to buy a new bike or put money into fixing this one up. Like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree, it’s not such a bad bike, it just needs some love.

Either way, the whole experience this week has restored the spirit of Christmas in my life. The fake snow blasting from a third floor window above Pies & Pints (@piesandpints) last night – which was just soap suds (first picture below) – and the real snow that came down today (second picture below). Real snow on the first day of December? I’ll take that as a good sign.

I also had a great coffee and chat with Laura (@ell_peee) at Taylor Books (@taylorbookswv), despite being covered in snow/suds. Met Arron (@arronpendleton) afterward at Bar 101 to talk about politics with a friend of hers. Today randomly walking by Capitol Roasters when I happened across my friend Mark (@markwolfe) and Ric Cavender, director for East End Main Street (my neighborhood organization) and now I’m on the East End Main Street (@eastendmaintt) social media committee.

Pretty amazing week thus far I’ve got to say.

As for my usual YouTube music video what I have isn’t very Christmas-like, but Thomas got it stuck in my head. “Internet Killed the Video Star” by The Limousines.

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