The Big Dummy is dead. Long live the Crazy Stallion!

Pimp my ride: moving knishes

Getting your car stolen focuses your attention. And when your car is a monster-bicycle that sticks out like a sore thumb and that gets stolen, you ask yourself some questions and do some thinkin'.

Tuesday morning I delivered Edie to school, about 1/2 mile away from home at around 8:30am, as I do most days. Door to door, the trip is about 10 minutes versus the 20 minutes if we're on foot or via stroller. It was raining and cloudy, and I needed to get home to focus on the day's chores. When I got to the school, men were hauling out large containers full of construction waste to a dump-truck parked directly in front of the school. Usually, I leave the bike in the spot, in direct eye-line of the guards who make sure no ne'er-do-wells enter the school. Today, however, I parked right next to the doors, out of the way of the construction workers and their piles of waste, and out of the eye-line of anyone by the entrance.

Edie & I went upstairs to her classroom. Unlike when she was two, when she would cling to me and take some warming up, her three-year-old self jumps right into action, rendering me almost invisible (sigh!). So I smooshed a kiss on her cheek and split. I exited the building and turned left to find my bike...no bike. Right? Still no bike. Looked forward at the workers, thinking for a moment they moved it to make room for their activities, no bike. I ask the workers if they saw someone take it; they shrug and say no. I go into the lobby and say my bike was just stolen, are there cameras? They say no, give me a phone number for the facilities manager, who will be available at 10am. I check the time, it's 8:43; I had arrived at 8:40. Three minutes was all it took. I call my wife, I don't remember what was said, other than the bike is gone and I might be late in coming back so she can split for work.

How bikes get stolen in Monopoly Town.

I walk out and start walking, not sure what to do, a thick blanket of fuzziness on my brain. I guess I'll walk over to the police station, which is one block over from my home? Literally moments after I leave the building, I see a mother of another child in Edie's class quickly walking in my direction, with her infant in a stroller -- I had just politely waved to her on the street from the bike on the way to deliver Edie only minutes before. As she's walking towards me, she firmly says/shouts/asks, "Your bike was stolen!?" Yes, I say, I don't remember if I mumbled it or shouted it. "I saw him on East Broadway, he's going north, black guy wearing a black jacket, blue jeans and a black hat. Chain fell off the bike, he was trying to fix it and when I yelled at him that the bike was stolen, he said he was fixing it for you then ran away. Cops are chasing him!" I notice another parent-friend is standing next to us, but I take off running, and I don't run -- I don't think I've ran in 15 years, my ankles just don't like it, but for my bike, I ran. Over a block, then up East Broadway. Once I got close to Grand Street, I realized whatever had happened moments ago was gone. I was now very close to the police station, so I walked over, catching my breath and hoping not to look like a sweaty insane person.

Google "sweaty inane person" and this what you get.

In the lobby, an Asian man with limited English was trying to get an explanation of a car insurance form from the lady officer on desk duty with a thick Lower East Side accent. The man's garbled questions were mostly met with "I can't understand you" by the officer, and after about three repetitions of this interaction, I started bouncing up and down on my heels like a toddler who has to go to the bathroom. The officer sees me and says to the Asian man, excuse me, let me help this gentleman. My instinct immediately tells me these public servants probably take large servings of shit from an inarticulate public, so I better be damn polite and clear.

I thank the lady and within moments I hear, from the other side of the partition, "We have two on it right now." The desk officer asks me a few other questions, like where, when, was there a physical altercation, and what is the value of the bike. At Edgies on Henry, between 8:40 and 8:43, no and over $1,500. She tells me to take a seat and someone will be right with me. CHUNG CHUNG!! Law & Order time.

A sergeant comes by to inform me that because of the bike's value, this is an incident of grand larceny. Another officer sits down with me, and starts filling in a report. I tell him I'm not the one who called 911, but a friend who saw the thief with my bike. I give him the name and contact of my friend, then he asks me to call her to get a description. I call her, and she's surprised because someone has already called her for the description. After we hang up, another officer takes over filling in the paper work and starts asking me very specific questions about the appearance of the thief. I repeat that I did not see the guy, my friend did, and why don't YOU get on the phone with her and be the THIRD person to ask for the same information? Well, I didn't say that, but I started to think that perhaps my bike is not the most pressing case happening at the 7th Precinct this morning.

The cops who were on the scene arrive, they were directed south while the thief went north so they never saw nuttin'. I'm directed upstairs and have another interview with a plain-clothes detective (CHUNG CHUNG). During his rote questioning he asks me where I grew up. Staten Island, I say. He gives me the side eye. Yes, detective, I should have known better than to not lock my bike, I'm the asshole, thank you for that.

On that note, I did a one block walk-of-shame from the precinct to my home, choking back tears. Well, my kids are fine, my wife is fine, my home is fine, it's just some money, it can be replaced. People in this city just lost everything a few weeks ago, homes, personal possessions, even some lives. Who am I to be upset about a singular bicycle?

However, when I got home to find wifey sitting at the kitchen table, she looked at me with sympathy and I just wept like a baby. I haven't cried for a physical object since I was a child. I cried when each of my parents died and I cried recently when I learned a close friend was just diagnosed with cancer, hell, I've teared a little at a few movies in the past decade. But a friggin' BIKE?  I posted on social media, sent an email to the fine folks at the Lo-Down (who put up an APB on their Facebook page, which was cool). I've had bikes stolen before, I'm a life-long New Yorker and a life-long cyclist, it's part of the game. But this was a little different..... 

PAUSE FOR REFLECTION

When I was maybe 5 or 6, someone entered our unlocked detached garage on Staten Island in the middle of the night and stole our bicycles. The very next day, my dad went out and bought us two new Ross bicycles, a ten speed for my brother and a blue cruiser with a pressed-metal "gas tank" on the top tube. No kids of my dad was gonna be without a bike, his job was to provide that stability, and I am going to, too.

My first hooptie. Well, first I can remember after the actual first was stolen.

An aside: I've pretty much written off bicycling as a primary method of losing weight. A decade of riding centuries (100 mile bike rides) and logging countless hours on one of 8 bikes I in my stable has made several friends say over the years, "why are you so fat when you ride so much?" I've realized after rebooting this blog a few months ago that the current thinking on weight and weight loss in the media, the ol' "eat less do more" credo, is only half the battle. Those who think it's 100% "eat less/do more" are lazy thinkers, don't like fatties, or don't want you questioning the vested interests of Big Foo HEY LOOK AT THAT SHINY THING!! BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!

Oh mah gawd, men only stare at my horn. My eyes are down here, guys!

Losing weight is not just about eating less and doing more, it's about revising what you ARE eating and what you do to not only lose weight but to manage your comfort and appetites, and questioning vested interests as well.

There's that, and then there is my family of a wifey and two adorable, happy, healthy kids. As a single guy, I could dedicate 10-15 hours a week to being on a bike by myself or with a few friends. A 9-hour journey on the bike is extremely head-clearing and meditative, though the hunger generated would usually result in taking in more calories than I expended. The biking had to be cut back. As my first child reached the age to be put on a bike, biking became less about 9 hours of meditation and more about spending quality time with my kid and getting to places quickly without the usual weight of strollers and subway stairs and long bus rides and squiggly kiddie drama that travelling with kids entails.

I was transporting my 1st child on a seat attached to the front handle bar of a beaten, 15-year-old creaky commuter bike. It handled weird with the weight, and it was only a matter of time until something eventually wore out or malfunctioned. For my 40th birthday, wifey gifted me the best present ever -- a cargo bicycle. Basically, it's a heavy duty bike in which the rear wheel is extended back a few feet and a platform is placed behind the saddle. I added running board platforms to support the built-in bags on the sides, wide comfy BMX stomper pedals, extender rings on the stem to raise the handlebars to a more upright position, comfy extra large grips with mini bar ends for extra hand positions, two child seats with mounts to the rear platform, etc etc. A lot of thought and love went into this machine so it could:

• transport one or two children
• carry full weekly loads of groceries for a family of 4
• haul knishes and knish ingredients back and forth from commercial kitchens
• enable car-free trips to Costco and Ikea
• occasionally throw an adult friend on the back for a scoot around town
• have the comfort of the weight and stability in any weather at all

Admiring a power plant during the black out.

THE STORY CONTINUES....

Betsy left for work, and I tried to focus on the day. I couldn't bring myself to the book I wanted to read or the weights I wanted to lift. I got a call from the cop station, and my first thought was, "Ah, there is a break in the case! I'm gonna get my bike back!" but it was just an old lady keying my list of stolen things into the computer, and she couldn't read my handwriting. The baby sitter coming from the Rockaways was an hour late, so I had to cancel some plans, but I still had to deliver some knishes to a local shop. With more time on my hands than expected, I decided to go to Frank's.

Frank's is my local bike shop—an institution on the Lower East Side since the '70s. I've purchased many of my bikes from him, I interviewed and wrote a piece about him when I was a writing for a local publication years ago, and when B bought me the bike, she sent it to Frank's for assembly and care. So I went in, Frank and his crew commiserated, and Frank said something like, "What about that bum on Clinton St? Check him out!" and proceeded to line list a few corners where the known villains of the 'hood congregate to sell bikes for cash quickly. He also took my number in case something popped up on his end. It's nice to walk into a bike shop where everyone knows your name, and knows how important a stolen bike was to you.

I rode over to Malt & Mold to deliver the knishes, riding past a few of the corners that Frank suggested.   I confided in Kevin about the bike, then started heading north to meet up with Betsy for lunch. As I passed Delancey going up Essex, my eyes were scanning everywhere for my bike. I told myself, "Noah, you have to refocus, the bike is gone, if you keep on looking, you're going to drive yourself crazy. Let it go. The Big Dummy is gone, and there is no coming back from where she went."

And then there she was. A man was pushing a Big Dummy across Essex at the corner of Houston. There was no baby seat on it, but it had the double baby seat mounts, the extra spacers on the stem, the stomper pedals, the mini-bar ends. Three thoughts in one split second:

• huh, amazing how someone else could have a bike just like mine
• the DEAD RISES
• Sam Jackson saying, "I'm gonna go get MINE, muthaf@cka!!"

And I say unto thee, you are the snake on my plane, and I shall SMITE thee with vengeful wrath!!

Blue jeans, black jack, light skinned black guy, just like the witness account. I pull up in his path in the street a few feet from the corner. I place my hand on the handlebars of the Big Dummy not too far from his hand, and I state, "This is my bike. It was stolen this morning, I reported it and I have a copy in my bag." He looks at me casually and says, "Hey, they guy across the street just gave it to me, I don't know anything about it being stolen!"

"Great!" I say while not letting go, "let's call the cops so you can give an I.D.!" He lets go of the bike and starts walking way. I'm now weighed down by two bikes, and I shout, "DON'T WALK AWAY! THIS IS STOLEN PROPERTY!!". I think to actually place my commuter bike on the back of the Big Dummy and chase after him, but notice the bike tire is flat -- that's probably why he was walking it and not riding it. I pretty much hulkified for 15-20 seconds, shouting out the rage and the panic and fear and hurt I've been under for the past 4 hours before walking the two bikes off the street onto the sidewalk.  I do a quick inventory of the bike -- bar ends, lights, bungee nets, underutilized chain and lock, child seat, child helmet all missing. Other than flat tire, no visible damage. A cyclist stops by and asks if I need a tube. I say nah, just retrieved my stolen bike, gonna walk it to my bike shop and have it looked at. We had a conversation, I tried to tell him my story in 10 seconds, my eyes must have been spinning in my head. He says, look, there is a cop car around the corner.

"Watch these!" and I take off and flag down the the cop. I tell him I just got my stolen bike back, I put in a report this morning for Grand Larceny, and the thief just went south on Essex. I gave him the description and he took off. When I get back to the corner, the cyclist and my two bikes had disappeared.

KIDDING! I relieved the kind sir, I quickly locked the crappy commuter to a light pole and started walking quickly south with the Big Dummy, but the cop car and the thief were long gone. I snapped a pic of the bike and sent it to Betsy. She called back, saying she was confused. "I got my bike back." She giggled for joy, said she couldn't wait to tell her mom and brother. When I stepped into Frank's, I shouted, "Anyone wanna buy a stolen bike?!" We had a good chuckle and told stories. I placed orders for a new seat, had Edie pick out a new helmet online, and when I went to Frank's to pick up the bike at the end of the day, the bike was all tuned up, fitted with an extra-tough rear tube, new grips with integrated bar ends, a new lock, and lights. All in, after shipping and taxes, the ordeal has cost me about $400. That sucks, but if the whole rig was gone, I would have to order a 2013 model when it comes out in the Spring, and with all the customizations and add ons and shipping etc, would have been in the thousands.

However, when I was taking stock when I retrieved the bike, I noticed a black plastic bag tucked in a saddle bag. I took it out, and.... 

Crazy Stallion: Fine Malt Liquor for the discriminating bike thief

He may have stolen my bike, my false sense of security, a good part of the day, and a few hundred bucks worth of gear, but I got his malt liquor. The Big Dummy is dead, long live the Crazy Stallion!

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I love my Big Dummy Crazy Stallion. Though this is a food blog, my inspiration for its style and overall obsessiveness is Bike Snob, a biking celebrity in his own mind (and a fiend friend). The Snob is so famous that Surly gave him his own free Big Dummy, and he was kind enough to take an afternoon to let me take it for a test spin with him, as the bike is too damn large and smug to be stocked in a regular bike shop.  In fact, while out with my child strapped to the back of the bike, I've been accused of BEING Bikesnob, eech. So I guess it's HIS fault the bike was stolen. Yeah, his fault.

BikesnobNYC, wearing his new line of bikeeng face-speeder-uppers.

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I shoulda taken phone pictures of the thief. Oh well.

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WEEKLY AVERAGE: 2,293

Huh, this is the first time in a while my average calorie intake fell within budget. Guess over-eating on the weekend helps early in the week, and severe emotional trauma helps later in the week! Upper side back muscles still sore on Saturday from the attempted pull-ups on Thursday, which makes me hopeful that when they recover, I'll be closer to doing one damn pull-up.

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MONDAY COUNT: 2100
Due to several days of having to push the big bike with my hands (Nor'easter, snowy travel up a bridge the next day, flat tire with 2 kids on the bike on Sunday), my wrists hurt like hell when I turn them. The spirit is willing, but I'm gonna wait a day or two before I subject them to lifting weights. Sucks because I skipped one session last week, my body craves the work out...

Due to Veteran's day, Edie was home, and in the midst of bringing both kids to assorted playgrounds by bike in the nice weather, I failed to get lunch. Increased the dinner portion by 1/3, as my traditional meal when I skipped lunch was a huge bowl of pasta, though back then it was white pasta and the whole damn box. Oy.

AM SNACK: 7:30am, iced green tea, 25 cal

BREAKFAST: 10:30am, toasted bagel with hummus & cured salmon, 7oz diet coke, 590 cal
Damn, forgot how caloric bagels are -- without the toppings, the 146g bagel topped out at about 375cal...

PM SNACK: 2pm, crust of pizza, +/-50 cal

DINNER: 6:15pm, whole wheat pasta with chicken meatballs, homemade tomato sauce, steamed string beans, parm, momma salad, 7oz diet sprite, 1340 cal

EVENING SNACK: 8:45pm, chocolate chips and peanuts, 310 cal
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TUESDAY COUNT: 2135

Nothing ruins the appetite and disrupts good habits like having a very expensive bike stolen while dropping off your kid at school. I didn't lock it, as it was an in n' out 3 minute situation, totally my fault.  Did the police report and social media, wasn't looking good, but on the way out of the 'hood ran into thief walking the bike. Made me appreciate the role of biking in my life, think I'm gonna write about it for the weekly subject....

Did mess up my day, made me skip breakfast, second day in a row I skipped a meal. Don't think this is going to become a habit, he he.

AM SNACK: 7:30am, iced green tea, 25 cal

LUNCH: 3pm, 6" veggie burger sub, ranch Doritos, 24oz diet coke, 760 cal

DINNER: 8:30pm, chicken sausage, whole wheat Israeli cous cous, momma salad, pickle, 7oz diet sprite, 960 cal

EVENING SNACK: 9pm, almonds and chocolate chips, 390 cal

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WEDNESDAY COUNT: 2290

Busy day of knishery chores and teaching in Red Hook. Not sure how much I ate at dinner but it wasn't totally unreasonable, but not enough veg. Good thing I got fruit in the morning.

AM SNACK: 7:30am, iced green tea, 25 cal

BREAKFAST: 9am, fruit smoothie, 375 cal

LUNCH: 1:30pm, quarter pounder, fries, 20oz diet coke, 890 cal

SCHOOL DINNER: 6-7pm, cheese tasting, various pieces of pizza, full calorie soda, slice of nutella banana pizza, +/- 1000 cal

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THURSDAY COUNT: 2630

Due to a strained wrist from pushing the big bike through snow on Friday then pushing the big bike with a flat with two kids mounted on it on Sunday, I had to skip 2 weight-lifting sessions. Left wrist 100% better, right wrist only 85%, but most of the motions of the weights did not hurt it -- only when I turn the wrist does it go a little ouchy. Felt a little weaker then usual, but was still able to get through 2 sets of 40 push ups and a set of 40 sit ups. Still can't do a damn pull up, but my 4 sets of 5 second curled hang time are getting better.

Food shopping at the smaller supermarket down the street was a huge bummer. Produce more expensive, staples come in smaller packages making it ounce for ounce more expensive, only string cheese available is kosher, which is literally 100% more expensive. Ugg. And you can't take the cart out of the building, which makes going out to load up a bike impossible. I can't wait until the Fairway in Kips Bay opens. It'll be a little longer to get to, but it'll be reasonable.

AM SNACK: 7:30am, iced green tea, 25 cal

BREAKFAST: 10am, steel cut oatmeal with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and vanilla, 375 cal

LUNCH: 12:30pm, sardine & avocado on whole wheat toast, momma salad, 12oz diet coke, pickle, 530 cal

PM SNACK: 5pm, slice of streetza, +/- 300 cal

DINNER: 8:30pm, sushi, tempura, shumai, green salad, cheesy poofs, 7oz diet sprite, +/- 1000 cal

EVENING SNACK: 10pm, chocolate chips & peanuts, +/-400 cal
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FRIDAY COUNT: 2310

Happily found myself sore this morning from yesterday's lifting, particularly my upper back and underarms, the locus of pull-ups. Is it because I quickly lost tone from missing a week, or is it because I tried harder because I missed lifting?

AM SNACK: 8:15am, iced green tea, 25 cal

BREAKFAST: 10:45am, cornflakes with whole milk, 275 cal

LUNCH: 1:45pm, chicken nuggets, ketchup, baby carrots, cheesy poofs, pickle, 7oz diet coke, 660 cal

DINNER: 5:45pm, cheese ravioli with tomato sauce and spinach, water, 850 cal

EVENING SNACK: 9pm, various cakes and cookies, +/- 500 cal