Several years ago, I lived on Main St in the Fan on the Marathon course. Got home from work around midnight, crashed, and woke up to the sound of cheering outside. It wasn't until later that the realization dawned on me that my car had been towed.

Called my mom who lived in Hopewell so she could drive me to Seibert's. She was afraid to drive through the city so I rode my bike up to Broad near the Rite Aid so she could just hop off the interstate and then we could go. Paid my blood money to Seiberts, roughly the equivalent of a tuition payment.

Stopped back by to pick up my bike and both of my hand-assembled deep V wheels had been stolen.