Bikes. Parts. Chaos.

I think it's safe to assume that we are all in agreement about bike thieves - that they are worse than puppy-kicking Nazis wearing Zubas who listen to Creed. Well, last night one of them met one of us and we won.

You might recognize industry debutante Hurl Everstone from his stock photo below

Last night the aforementioned Hurl, Burnsey, myself, the Mayor of Fruita, Brake Dancin, and a whole batch of real live bicycle luminaries were warming up for the big Frostbike industry hoe-down at One On One Studio. Late in the evening, Everbeard and Burnsey stepped out onto the loading dock out back just in time to see a personage of the crack head demographic making off with one orange Las Cruces of the Salsa variety that was not his own. Burns immediately gave chase on foot, but our man Hurl had the presence of mind to mount up on the crackhead's discarded Huffy and rocket toward justice.

Two blocks later, as cracky-McStealsalot slowed for traffic crossing 4th street, the Bismarck Bruiser rocked a bike cop take down that would have made Ditka proud and nabbed the Salsa back. At the same time he barked a great William Wallace-esque yawp The stunned theif scurried off into the night half blind from the glory of Hurl's grizzled visage. The triumphant return to the shop was met with a volley of high fives and fresh beers.

Our collective hats are off to the man from North Dakota and his heroic save (second one this week really.) It ain't every day that freedom-hating bike jackers get thiern.