If you know me, you probably know that one of the jobs you won’t see on my LinkedIn profile is that of bicycle messenger in NYC. Now I admit that I missed the big money hey-day of the late seventies, when intrepid messengers were clearing $700 a month (or so they claimed) and I was a post-FAX machine rider. That said, you could still get an amazing workout, make some scratch and see New York City in all its grime and glory aboard your beat up messenger bike.
That was, until it got stolen. Which it usually did at some point or another. Which brings me to the point of this post.
I imagine the sting operations that could have happened to the downtown NYC black market for hot bicycles (it was known that you could go to 14th and Ave. A to scout for your stolen ride) had the technology backbone been in place and this nifty locator been around. Kudos to the writers at Urban Daddy for writing up BikeSpike:
“Imagine you’ve pulled over for a hamburger somewhere along the Beltline. Maybe a nice glass of iced tea. Then imagine you getting a notification on your phone that your bike is being tampered with. That’s when you run outside and yell, “Hey, rapscallion. That’s mine.” And if you’re too late: it’ll automatically track its whereabouts so you can follow it and alert the authorities.”
After my messenger bike was pinched, (I arrived at the spot where my bike had been locked up to find only the broken U-lock [silly me] in place of where my steel framed Peugot 12 speed used to sit) I started working in the dispatch office at the messenger agency, mainly because I could type (and speak the King’s English with clients) so my daily death-defying adventures were behind me.
I still love to ride and hit Critical Mass whenever my schedule allows.
Be safe out there!