Bike racks are a rare luxury in suburbia. So when I go to the grocery store, I lock my bike to one of those shopping cart thingies:

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I come out of the store, arms laden with bags, and glance in the direction where I left my bike. This guy is standing there, his expression focused, his hands deftly wielding what looks a lot like my cable lock.

HOLY SHIT HE'S CUTTING MY CABLE!

So I run to him as fast as I can, grocery bags still in hands. As I fill my lungs to scream at him, I look down to see how far he got.

The guy is tying a rope to the shopping carts, probably to keep them in place for the night.

He's NOT trying to steal my bike.

Whew.

That was an awkward O, HAI.

My heart kept pounding for minutes after that.