BEIJING - When my bike disappeared last week, I didn't report it to the police. My friends said it would be a waste of time. The police can't be bothered looking for stolen bike in a sea of them.
I took a couple days to mourn the loss and then bought the Gazelle. I did everything exactly the same as last time, except this time I bought a better lock, which I make sure to attach to an immobile object every evening.
This afternoon I chained The Gazelle to a staircase leading up to the lobby of my building, opposite a "Please Do Not Place Your Bike Here Sign." Underneath the sign was a bike. The bike's most obvious feature was a neon orange velour seat cover, but looking past that I saw the faded letters "Catac" scrawled across the frame. I went closer and gave it a thorough inspection. The same dented basket with a hole in one side, the same twisted right brake bar, the same broken stop. There was no question: This was the Catac.
I ran inside the building to the front counter.
"Fuyuan! Fuyuan!" I said, addressing the building staff. "Last week my bike was stolen but now it's outside! My bike is back!"
"Really?"
There were three fuyuans behind the lobby counter. The first fuyuan wanted to call the police, the second fuyuan said that wasn't a good idea because buying a used bike is illegal in China, and the third fuyuan said that he knew another type of police who could take care of the problem.
Five minutes later, a dark green van pulled up to the door. Four men came out, all dressed in cheap polyster jackets that I imagine they believe gives them an air of authority and came inside. They introduced themselves as supervisors of the dining hall and after hearing the story of the Catac, asked to see my student card.
In China, a student card is actually a small book that resembles a half-size passport. I took mine out of my pocket and the head suit man gave it a looking over. Satisfied, he handed it back.
"Do you need your bike back right now?" he asked me.
"No, why?"
The suit men had a plan. They wanted to put the bike back as bait, and perform a stakeout to catch the bike thief. That sounded fine with me, so I left the men to their own devices.
Fifteen minutes later, I left the building on an errand and found the four suit men standing on the lawn in front of the building. Beside them was the bike, lying 20 meters from where the thief left it. Some detective work.
An hour later, I returned to the building to see The Catac on the ground, knocked over by a strong wind. The fake police were gone, and the fuyuan said they caught no one.
I peeled the ugly orange seat cover off the old Catac. It was mine once again.
