On 10/24/13, the CSBR received the following email: Miracle of miracles -- I found my bike! (I don't know who might be interested in the story, but here it is.) It was stolen on Saturday afternoon, 19 Oct 2013, between 3:15-5:00pm in front of 5059 N. Sheridan Road in Uptown. I made a police report and posted a notice with Chicago Stolen Bike on Sunday morning. I hated to loose it since it's a used Swedish model that I purchased while in 1989 while living in Zambia -- and brought back with me from Africa when I returned to Chicago in 2000. After riding it for nearly 25 years, I had become very accustomed to it. When the police asked about its value, I said "a sales value of $100-$200 but to me personally it's priceless." Filing the reports brought a degree of closure to the trauma of the theft and, frankly, I largely dismissed it from my mind. All good things pass away. My bike was gone and it was time to begin thinking about options for replacing it. At 6:00am on Tuesday morning, 22 Oct, I began the long trip on the "L" from the Lawrence stop to Midway for a business trip. I usually transfer at Lake from the Red Line to the Orange but, with luggage, I decided this time to take the lazy man's route: cross the platform at Belmont to the Brown and then to the Orange at Wellington/Franklin. As I walked under the tracks to the Orange platform, to my total unexpected shock, there was my bike! It was locked with a cable to a stand on the inside of the CTA turnstiles. I immediately spoke to the CTA station manager and then called the police to begin the recovery process. I imagined this to be lengthy and complicated and began worrying about ways to handle the likelihood of me missing my flight. Then, about 3 minutes after calling the police, a man came through the turnstiles, walked up to my bike, and unlocked the cable. My subsequent conversation with him went like this: Me: "THAT'S MY BIKE! It was stolen last Saturday." Him: "I don't know nothing about that. I bought it in 'Jew Town' yesterday." (his words, not mine) Me: "I don't care how you got it, we'll soon get it sorted out. I've called the police and they will be here in a few minutes." Him: "Hey man, if it's your bike, you can have it. I don't want nothing to do with it." Then he very quickly left me standing there with my bike, which was now very conveniently unlocked. To complete the miracle, I took it down to the street, loaded into a taxi, drove to Uptown where I left it at home, and then proceeded to Midway where I made my flight at the last possible second just before they closed the plane's door. I cannot image the odds of recovering a bike in this manner. It must be several millions to one. Whatever, I am VERY grateful to have my bike back.