I have lost my bicycle. Not really lost – I know where it is, but very approximately. It is (supposedly) parked at the train station in Delft, but I can’t remember where exactly. And I’m having trouble finding it between the other 10 to 20 thousand bicycles parked there.
Like many people in this small European country I have a nice, new bicycle for comfortable commuting, which is parked at a secured bicycle shed, and an old crappy one, parked at the train station (of course, I also have a racing bicycle for triathlon training). And its the “station” bike I can’t find. I’ve parked it there a few months back, and then I haven’t used it in a while. It was summer, the weather was good and I used my commuting bicycle a lot. Then I was away on vacation, then it was good weather again and then I couldn’t remember where the “station” bike was.
Since all the other bicycles at the train station look exactly like the one I’ve lost (black or blue, rusty, with randomly gathered spare parts incorporated), it is rather difficult to spot your bicycle on a normal day. Let alone after a couple of months, when you can’t remember even the approximate location. By now, the search has turned rather pointless as the bicycle might have been stolen or removed by the council as junk. I keep looking though. Not because I was emotionally attached to it or can’t afford buying a new one, but because the search has become a quest. Like the search for the Holy Grail, but more practical.
Should you happen to be at the Delft train station and you see me wandering among the heaps of parked bicycles, don’t help me. The quest is much more important than the result. Its pure zen.