My first month in Japan had come to an end. Having found an apartment, it was time to move out of the monthly guesthouse I had been living in. Having already raided the local recycling center for furniture, I turned to scavenging around my apartment. A few of my prizes included an immense roll of industrial toilet paper, a pink sponge, and some duplicate spices from the kitchen.
Since these items existed in great quantities around the guesthouse, I knew they would not be missed. The bicycle I had found outside the guesthouse, however lay in gray area of forager morals.
Though it didn’t belong to any of the current residents of the guesthouse, I felt bad running off with this means of transportation, which I had so thoroughly enjoyed. Luckily I had a scheme to bridge this dilemma.
Earlier in the month, I’d rescued another bicycle after it had been left for dead following a feral night of cyclo partying that had ended with a run in with a car. While this bicycle would not be a fair trade for the one I had found at the guesthouse, it would give future residents a two-wheeled way of exploring Tokyo.
To ensure that this action of masked thievery would sit well with my roommates, I ran the idea past them. Since none of them cared much for bicycles the idea flew surprising well.
So after fetching the feral bicycle from my school and topping its tires off with air, I dropped by the guesthouse one last time to deliver it. Then after saying goodbye to a now old roommate, I set off on my bicycle into the setting sun.
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