#660 State stole my bike

Unlike most Dutch people, who own 5-10 (one for each workday, perhaps a weekend, a vacation, or a birthday one, with some local regions having their own, admittedly weird habits too), I only owned one bike. So here's the story of how I neglected her and eventually, due to that neglect, lost her at the hands of the state. However, this is not a story about how I miss her or advice for you on what not to do. Those feelings and that strategy are my secrets to keep. Complaining is life's greatest pleasure, and complaining about an authority, like the state, is beautiful, but I'm not complaining here. Yes, they stole my bike, but I'm happy that they take care of the abused in this country. That might not be true -- maybe walking is life's greatest pleasure, though I feel it's not as universally appreciated. However, what do I know? Anyway, I neglected her, mostly because I love walking. I'd walk everywhere instead of using her while she slowly rotted away over time due to the weather. (Also, her tire was flat, and I didn't want to be bothered to fix it.) Then, one day, the yellow mark of death appeared on her. Something I didn't understand and had to research, which took me a while to do, and even then, I didn't bother taking action. I don't remember when it happened, but at some point, when I walked past where she used to be, I noticed she was gone. Only then did I fully realize the implications of the yellow mark; I would never see her again.