The Case of the Kickstand
This Tuesday morning at approximately 5:36, I walked outside into the frigid air to unlock my bike to ride to PT. As I went through the mechanical routine of inputting the combination and removing the bike from its stand, something went horribly awry – my kickstand was missing.
Who was the perpetrator of this crime? What dastardly villain would roam campus, removing kickstands in the dead of night? As I examined the scene of the crime in disbelief, another piece of evidence presented itself, making the case all the stranger. The bracket in which the kickstand rotates was still attached to my bike, and, in fact, the top three inches of my kickstand were still there! In case the situation is still unclear, my dear readers:
The strangeness of a snapped-off kickstand left me with several initial theories, the most important of which was that someone was sending me a message. The message was vaguely unclear, though: “I’m tired of how you always move me around with your foot,” perhaps? Since I couldn’t think of anyone I generally move around with my foot (or at least no one that would be angry about it), I claimed the kickstand (which I found in the bushes nearby) and went on with my day. It did occur to me, however, that an event like this had to be of some significance. Perhaps it was yet another representation of growing up at school. Vanderbilt has taught me a lot about taking accountability and becoming responsible for myself. Sometimes your kickstand will be taken without warning, and you’ll need to stand on your own two…wheels?
I’m gonna go get a new kickstand.