One of the things that I enjoyed most living downtown was riding my bike.

I used the past tense verbiage because, as luck would have it, somebody decided he liked my kick-ass Trek 820 just as much, but did not feel he should have to fork out the money for it.

Locked securely within the privacy gate of my Old World Third Street apartment, somebody hopped the fence, cut the lock (do not believe the lock manufacturers when they say it has guaranteed to prevent theft ... what a joke) and rode off ... right in front of my eyes.

The two officers that assisted me were awesome. On bikes, themselves, they could obviously relate to my plight and had no problem with my seething anger. They were actually about a block away when it happened and probably easily could have caught the punk had it not taken nearly five minutes to connect to 911 on my cell phone (thanks, U.S. Cellular) and then to be transferred from the Sheriff's department to the police.

Their quick response made me worry even further; what is going to happen when the plan to expand District 1 goes through? Call it what you want, but it's a pretty good bet that the already stretched-too-thin police force is going to have to devote a lot of manpower to the newly-added parts of the city. Will the growing Downtown population be able to receive prompt help? Probably not.

I loved riding my bike. It made for a fun -- and as much as it pains me to say it, healthy -- commute to work and even provided a way to spend some quality time with my better half. I was able to take in a completely new part of Milwaukee, and actually (for the first time in the nearly three years that I have lived on the East Side and Downtown) got me to go out and enjoy the beauty of Lake Michigan.

Not that living here is any sort of privilege; my outrage would be the same no matter where I resided. However, living Downtown, you learn to accept a great deal of nuisance. As I have written before, you get used to people using your sidewalk and alleyway as a bathroom/make out spot/and even a place to handle drug deals. Eventually, you learn to tune out the noise that accompanies the numerous delivery and garbage trucks as well as the raucous atmosphere of bar close. I have dealt with an overly insecure parking checker and indifferent alderman and along with my neighbors, dealt with the aftermath of a double-homicide.

I have also accepted that there is no way that I am going to see my prized new possession again and I will be putting my pennies away to have a replacement when the weather turns nice again next spring. In the meantime, I will be keeping my eyes fixed on the streets and alleys surrounding my apartment.