"On yer bike!"

Need a getaway car? Jewelry of unknown origin found in a thief's knapsack? Or, perhaps, a stolen, unclaimed bike?The Chicago Police Auction is stocked up and waiting for you!

A dozen years ago, my bro Sean and then-girlfriend, now wife, Trina escorted me (sans handcuffs) to my first and last Chicago Police Auction. I believe Sean was in need of a bike, and got a tip - in hindsight, I question the identify of this tipster - that the CPD had bikes coming out of their over-capacity warehouses.

Me? I was a young lady with a hangover, looking for a steal. (Ha....hahaha. Get it? A steal? ;)

The officers ran the show like any other auction. A starting price was set and they cattle-called it off until some lucky Joe or Josephine went home a winner. Shame about the person who had the item stolen in the first place...

Which brings the story back to me and my bike. When the blue, tattered seat Giant came up for bid, I was waved my trusty auction finger in the air until is was mine. All mine!! 5 seconds later, reality struck like cop lights in your rear-view mirror.

Sean's "new" $10 bike fell apart beneath him. And I awarded my self the booby prize for paying a cool hundy for a well-broken in, stripped wheeled, ramshackle of a bike.

Sean may have felt a twinge of guilt for not protecting his little sis from the wily ways of the CPD. My b-day gift a few weeks later was two new wheels and one much needed tune up. The wonky pedal stayed and persisted through two summer's worth of rides to my low-profile desk job downtown.

I even dusted it off last summer to take take my pregnant self our for some much-appreciated wind through my hair with P and J.

In May, 12 years since we met, passed my old friend along to a new owner, who I hear shines her up every evening and takes her for long rides on the weekend. ;)

In a nod to old faithful, my new ride is also a Giant, FCR-2. It's black. It's sleek. It's sex on wheels. (Apologies, mom!)

Last Sunday, as I turned another year wiser, P and me took to the lakefront and I raced my old bones on my new wheels to Navy Pier for what might be one of the best birthday's ever.

Perfect weather, sauvignon blanc in a plastic cup, a ride on a Ferris wheel, the full moon casting long shadows on the sleeping city, sludging though week-old standing water beneath a bridge (OK, not the highlight), the perfect pretzel bun burger at midnight and sharing it all with my very own red rover.

Not sure about my post headline? FYI from the "Best of British" On your bike = A very polite way of telling someone to sod off. Where did I first hear it? P's 94-year-old grandmother. :)