I guess I probably should have.
When I left for work the next day, I noticed the bike was gone, but I assumed she had moved it. Later in the evening, though, she sent me a message.
My bike is gone.
I suggested she partake in a Big Adventure, but she wasn't too interested in that. It sucks, if she's unwilling to go on a zany, cross-country adventure to find it, her only other real option is to get a new bike. You live, you learn, I guess. What unnerves me is the idea of somebody walking along the side of our house to reach the bike. I have to wonder if they saw the bike from the sidewalk, or if they spotted it while creeping around the house, looking for other shit to steal.
Early on in high school, our bus driver came up with some excuse not to pick up my sister and I at our house, instead picking us up where our road met another, busier road. It was about a quarter of a mile from our house to the bus stop, so we opted to ride bikes there, and hide them in a line of trees while we were at school.
On one particular day, my sister rode her bike and parked it in the trees, and for some reason (a flat tire, perhaps?) I walked. When we were approaching our bus stop, I saw a guy riding away on what appeared to be my sister's bike.
"Hey, that guy stole your bike," I said as we got off the bus.
"Shut up, no, he didn't," my sister said, completely incredulous.
When we reached the trees where the bike was supposed to be hidden, she realized I was right.
"My bike is gone!"
"Yeah, that's what I told you," I said flatly while she burst into tears.
We walked home and told our parents, who made us take a futile trip to the gas station on the corner to ask if they saw a guy ride by on a bike.
"No, sorry, we haven't seen any bikes."
Bike thieves are douche bags.