Between fourth and fifth grade, I lived near a single mother with three filthy children. My siblings and I were somewhat afraid of the mother, because she could often be heard screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs early in the morning. I'll never forget riding my bike past their house one morning and hearing her scream, "I spent all fucking morning making that fucking oatmeal and you're going to fucking eat it!" like a completely crazy person. Her public persona was much more subdued, and she never screamed at any of us, and we often would hang out with her dirty, sticky children.
Early one morning we were sitting in the living room of our house, and heard somebody in the back yard. We pulled the curtain open and saw one of the dirty kids riding away on one of our bikes. We went outside and found that they had taken all three of our bikes, as well as our little kick scooter. We walked over to their house, where they had all of our bikes in their back yard. We assumed it to be a juvenile prank, but in retrospect, I wonder if they were thieves and were going to sell them. Their family were no strangers to being shady as hell, and once when their dad came to pick the kids up in his semi-truck, he ran over our mailbox. We didn't know who did it, but one of the kids later told me who it was.
I was also a bike thief during this period.
I only stole one bike, and I didn't actually intend to keep it for more than a few hours. I couldn't really bring it home without my parents wondering where the hell it came from.
There was another kid who lived near me, and we had decided to trade my kick scooter for his bike. Like so many bad business transactions that kids make, the deal fell through, and I decided I would just take his bike for a while. I planned on bringing it back to him later, but I had only had it for about an hour when the kid came back with his dad in his pickup truck. I didn't say anything, and neither did they, I just walked the bike to the truck, where they loaded it in and drove away.