This is a Stakeout.
I've showed up at the San Francisco Public Library early, locked my bike in the middle of the Grove Street bike rack—one of the most notorious for bike theft in the city— and sat down 100 feet away with my hood up and my video-camera ready. Now I'm waiting.
I've locked the frame and front wheel of my bike with a mini U-lock, and intentionally left the rear wheel unprotected, a mere quick-release away from getting nabbed. I figure if it's going to go AWOL, this will be the place. I'll be here to serve justice. I have the SFPD's non-emergency number in my phone, and I’m ready to collar some thieves.
The Potential Haul
There are 19 bike racks in front of the library, each a three-foot metal circle bolted to the road. The whole area is protected from cars and trucks by five burly stainless steel balustrades. My bike is eighth from the western end, and one of 12 bikes locked up with a U-lock (only two of which are Kryptonites). Three bikes are locked up with NYC-style chains, and four with metal cables in addition to U-locks. Three forsaken U-locks, two of which are tethered to snipped metal cables, attest to previous thefts. I have come to the right place.
Including my own wheel, eight wheels are unlocked, as are two helmets and one quick-release seat. Surely this bike rack is a sweet temptation. I'm waiting, and I'm watching.
Watching for a Perp Walk
Here's what happens when you observe the behavior of people near the Civic Center: everyone becomes a suspect. The guys with weird limps. The guys who smell like piss. The guys with cRaZy hair. The guys smoking way too many cigarettes for a Monday. The guys with their pants half off. The guys who just exude sketchiness. The guy who looks like ZZ Top. The guys pushing shopping carts. The guy tattooing his left arm. The guy wearing socks but no shoes. The guys with obscenely large backpacks/duffels/garbage bags. The guys dressed like and talking like old war buddies, who make you wonder: could they ever have been fit for duty? What about the balding guy in a brown canvas jacket and black Converse hi-tops, gesticulating wildly to himself / nobody / everybody, pacing back and forth, eying the bike rack, and then wandering off.
Is that just a ploy? Is he crazy? Am I? What about the crazy lady in pink pants, and a pink sweater, with pink fingernails, who's sitting down on the curb in front of my bike and talking to herself? Legit, or rouse? What about that lady hunting for coins on the sidewalk, and that guy screaming at traffic, and that other guy who's spent the last 45 minutes perpetually loading and unloading his pushcart? Are they decoys in some giant bike theft ring? Where is law and order? Sure, a library security guard occasionally emerges, and the Dept. of Parking cabbie zips by punctually on the half hour, but what about cops? What about law enforcement?
The Near Nab
And then, shortly after noon: a tall guy in black jeans and a black t-shirt, with a black baseball hat slung backwards on his head rolls up on a crappy yellow and red Schwinn mountain bike, towing, a red road bike far too small for him. He asks, to nobody in particular, "Hey, you seen a blonde girl around?" I approach. "Is that your bike?" He turns, starts riding away, and says, "Why? It's my bike! What's that got to do with it! It's my fucking bike!" He rides off, mumbling. The red bike is stolen, I know it, and he's a bike thief, I know it too. He's nervous, and he's getting away.
I pursue him, slowly, around the block, and I think: if someone steals my back wheel while I am gone I will be doubly upset, because it is one thing to come up empty on a stakeout, another to come back negative. I feel like I could blink and miss the action.
The Schwinn bike thief disappears around the corner, but I find another. He's a bearded guy wearing a camouflage jacket, sitting on a cement wall, and there are two wheels at his feet and a crappy mountain bike frame beside him. "Are those for sale?" I ask. "Yeah." "What are they?" "Seven hundred series Deore, I believe." I try not to laugh. 700 is the size, as in 700-centimeter road wheels, and these are 26" mountain bike wheels. Regardless, nobody would ever call them 700 series. It's hokum, hogwash, gobbledygook from a scam artist. "Are they OK?, " I ask. "I think so. Actually, they belong to my friend John. He's over there, gettin' ready to kill somebody." "Is that what he does on Mondays?" "That's what he does every day." "Which guy is he?" He points across the street. "Over there. The white backpack with skulls on it." "Great, maybe I'll come back later."
And just like that, my stakeout is sort of panning out. I haven't seen a crime committed, but in three hours, I've witnessed one stolen bike, one stolen frame, two stolen wheels, and two, if not more, bike thieves. I’m just powerless to do anything about it.
I think of all my friends who've had bikes stolen. Rachel's was stolen on Valencia Street, and she found it a week later at the Laney College flea market, in Oakland. “That's my bike,” she said and just took it back. Sam's was stolen right here, at the library, and he never found it.
I've heard the thieves work as a team and know better than to steal fancy or / blingy / distinctive bikes. I've heard they used to sell the bikes they'd stolen out of vans behind Best Buy, but nobody knows where they've gone lately. I've heard that the best thing to yell at someone who appears to have in his possession a stolen bike is, "Hey, that's my bike!"
I've learned, from the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition, that there are worse places to lock a bike, like in front of the Metreon or in any BART station. I also know that BART police are doing stakeouts of their own, with decoy bikes in BART stations. BART police, in this quest, you have my support!
Still: why am I such an angry grouch? I’m not sure why I’m such an angry grouch. What about innocent until proven guilty? I've seen no action, no crime, captured no evidence on my video camera. Just sketchiness and urban decay and a cross section of society so diverse it gives both society and diversity a bad name. And as much as I hate these maybe-bike-thieves, hate the idea of my bike getting stolen, I’m also aware that there are worse things. I mean, it's just a bike. It's not a Ferrari, or a computer and that alone is kinda freeing and makes me less angry.
Packing up, a homeless guy approaches me. He comments on the blueness of my bike, then asks for some money, and I decline. "One thing's for certain and two things for sure," he says, without finishing the thought. I tell him I like the saying. He asks for a royalty, and again I decline. And I think about it. One thing's for certain and two things are for sure: bikes will vanish, thieves will keep thieving, and justice will ride right on by.
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Chris N
Jonny, I feel your pain and frustration with bike theft in this city. This is San Francisco, not Amsterdam, Copenhagen or Helsinki where "city bikes" are open, unlocked and available for anyone to use. This is a city where, even when my bike is kept tucked away in my private garage, it's stolen.
Even more shameless: the fame showed up on craigslist a few weeks later (I knew it was mine because it was a very old Cannondale with the original legacy logo).
Do you think it would make any difference if we did have a free bike share program in SF? Generally, I doubt the good will of our citizens, sad as that is.
mager
Great story! I have a bike and I'm always worrying where to park it.
Also, thanks for using my picture above.
maiacybelle
Great idea & story! In addition to the Metreon being a known spot for getting your bike stolen, so is any bike left locked up in Yerba Buena Gardens. Biker beware.
mike
Good story. You seem a bit paranoid :)
Aaron
Thanks for this article! Unfortunately I can personally verify @maiacybelles comment. I had a bike stolen from YBG while in a film at the Art Center. While the fact that the entire act was caught on surveillance camera furthered neither it's recovery nor the perps' apprehension, it did yield this bit of underworld insight: to jack a fancy/ blingy bike, dress in biker drag, complete with helmet and messenger bag. Bike thieves are scum!
underdog
Dude, thanks for sharing this. I can definitely relate. This week I was serving on a jury at SF's civil courthouse not far from there, on Polk/McAllister. The one day I decide to bike in, I take the (now seemingly stupid) chance of biking in, used both a bulldog u-lock and a kryptonite cable lock looped thru, locked to a bike rack. And it was stolen. In front of the courthouse. I asked if they had surveillance cameras on the street and of course they did not. Anyway, I was tempted to do a stakeout like yours, too, because I am sure the same thief will return. Makes me so angry that theres nothing to be done about it. Now I feel like I can't bike commute anywhere. If you have any other suggestions let me know!
jeff_loin
My bike was stolen from behind 3 locked doors. Nothing else taken, just the bike and some parts, and there was plenty of other stuff to take. I was cased, couldn't believe it. Admittedly it was one of those "fancy or / blingy / distinctive bikes." It was spotted in another neighborhood a few weeks later by some good people. They noticed the bike was way too big for the thief, chased the him down, successfully confronted the him (he threw it and ran) and took the bike to a local bike shop. I got it back, minus the blingy wheels. No more blingy wheels for me. I was lucky. Thanks for writing this Jonny. Good looking out!
jlmlr
Got my bike stolen today, broad day light in front of the Metreon. Wasn't aware it was a hot spot until I did a search and saw your article. Fuckin A. Makes sense though, the thieves know you are probably watching a movie for a few hours and probably won't be exiting the building suddenly. Had is securely locked, and tons of people were on the street, fucking mind boggling. If anyone sees a silver Diamondback road bike with fenders and a rear rack, please let me know. She was the love of my life.
Run Your Mouth