Tip 159: Fail to lock your bike.

Light-hearted, you decide to put faith in the masses. You lean your bike up against a street lamp, while you go off to:

• Pay for a Mohawk haircut to represent your dis-satisfaction with the market obsessed society in which we live in.;
• Catch  a bus in case it's the one with the cute driver with the neck tattoo and this time you might strike up a conversation; or
• Take all your money out of the bank in 5 cent coins in order to fill a swimming pool you can splash in like Scrooge McDuck.

About halfway through, just when you:

• Decide you actually want to accept that analyst job at JP Morgan;
• See the sign saying: Please don't talk to driver while bus is in motion; or
• Start to wonder if the viscosity of five cent coins may be somewhat lower than Disney portrayed;

You feel a swingeing surge in cortisol as you remember life is cold, cruel and unfair and realise that most likely, some chuckling villain is presently absconding with your beloved.  Your heart beats faster; your toes curl and your eyes dart round furiously.

BONUS TIP: As you make your way back to the place you last saw the velocipede in question, you will bargain with God.  If it's still there, I will buy a dozen D-Locks, and use them on every ride.  I'll never run a red light again. I'll signal turns! I'll clip my helmet! I'll yield to faster riders! I'll be good I swear!
If the bike is there though, it will be your faith in humanity that is restored, not in God, and all your promises will evaporate like summer sweat.