I've been debating putting this out there, but I didn't think it fair to mention only the good times and not the bad, with regard to living in Ecuador. Bad things do happen, and sometimes they have a way of changing a person.
My cycling came to an abrupt end one Sunday in early February, beginning with the ride back into town. That day my riding partner and I cut our ride short, due to near-gale force winds, chilly temps, and threat of impending rain. About five miles from home we passed a guy also riding back into town, who matched our pace and kept up with us, following along behind all the way back home. I was stopped outside the condo building where I lived, digging out the 'clicker' to open the automatic garage doors, when the guy who'd been following us for five miles approached me and started up a conversation. His English was very broken, but he knew enough to tell me he was a cyclist too, would be interested in joining us for a Sunday ride, and also owned a business where he sold jewelry and other accessories. Further, he lived just in the building across the street, and if I wouldn't mind waiting, he'd like to get a business card for me in case I was interested in his business. So we walked across the street, where, as luck would have it, his brother was approaching at that exact moment and heading to the front door of the building where they 'lived.'
His brother never quite made it to the front door, as the guy I'd been chatting with called to him and asked him to come over, introducing me to him. My new friend asked his brother to go upstairs and get a business card for me, so he said 'o.k.' and again headed for the front doors. Again, he didn't quite make it to the door, turning around and saying he just realized he didn't have his key. My new friend said no problem, he'd go get his, and again would I mind waiting, with his brother, while he rode off to go get it. While alone with his brother, the brother said he was a triathlete, said I looked like I biked a lot, and complimented me on my road bike. 'Was it heavy?' he asked... no, I replied... here, pick it up, see for yourself. I got off the bike, and he lifted it... then asked if he could get on it and see how it rode. He asked me how it shifted, and I said it shifts great. He rode in a few circles in front of me, clicked up and down through the gears, then took off. I watched him speed down the road, waiting for him to turn around. And waited... and waited... and waited... not quite believing what I suddenly became aware had happened.
Not only did they get the bike, but they also got my cell phone I kept in the saddlebag attached to the bike under the seat. And the Garmin computer I had mounted on the handlebars. It was a very lucrative scam they ran on me. Bike. Cell phone. Garmin.
I ran upstairs and tried locating them using "Find my iPhone," but they had turned the phone off, and never turned it back on again (I kept checking, before finally giving up and deleting it from my account). The Garmin had a "live tracking" feature that my wife used to check on me during my rides, a nice safety feature Garmin offers so if something happened while out in the middle-of-nowhere, I could be found, and I was able to obtain one last piece of information on my bike from this "live tracking" feature... it was traveling approx. 55mph down a busy road about a half-mile from my home before the signal was lost (turned off).
I changed into my running shoes and took off in the direction of the last know coordinate of the bike, but of course found nothing. I continued running down the busy road, and into some of the surrounding neighborhoods, hoping to catch a glimpse of the bike. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
It took several days to get over what had happened. I was amazed at the coordination of the scam: Thief #1 followed me in from outside of town, for a distance of about 5 miles, to coincidentally run into his 'brother,' Thief #2, right at the end of the ride. It was perfect. Sad thing is, if they hadn't gotten it that day, they would have gotten my bike later, as their charade was perfectly rehearsed. I never would have suspected a fellow 'cyclist' of stealing my bike. I put the word out to local riders I knew, learning in the process that this was actually a common scam, that at least two other bikes had been taken the same way within the past several months. Didn't make me feel any better. To make matters worse, just about after I'd come to terms with dealing with the loss, I found an iPhone that looked exactly like mine on OLX, the Ecuadorian version of Ebay.
After seeing this phone on OLX, which had been posted 'for sale' the day after mine was stolen, I concocted a scheme to meet the seller, feigning interest in purchasing the phone, with the goal of getting it in my hands to see if it really was my phone. If it was my phone, I thought it might lead me to my bike as well. It took three attempts to meet the seller, who seemed awfully suspicious of my intentions; with my wife's help communicating to him, I finally met up with this person, and after getting the phone in my hands, realized it was not my phone. It was then that I finally stopped obsessing about the loss. Turns out that after plugging in a different search term, I found six or seven iPhones that looked exactly like mine, but by that point I had promised my wife I'd let it go.
My riding partner pointed out a silver lining, that at least it happened so near to my departure date to the U.S.; indeed, if this had happened a year or two earlier, I would have been eager to replace bike, phone, and bike computer. As it were, I made due without a phone for the month-and-a-half before I left Cuenca, and was still able to ride my mountain bike. Another pleasant surprise came as I became aware that I'd run 5-6 miles that day, looking for my bike, with any apparent knee issues. I had quit running and took up mountain biking and road cycling as I'd thought that there was something still terribly wrong with my knee that wouldn't allow me to run ever again. After three years, it looked like I might be able to run again, if only on a limited basis.
An indelible mark the scam created on me is that now I will never ever trust anyone again, a trait that I'm not happy to acquire. Whenever anyone approaches me for whatever reason, I will immediately question their intentions with suspicion. I now lump beggars and people on street corners asking for handouts with scam artists... both sorts of people are looking to get something for nothing. The other day a guy asked me if I could help 'them' out as I was passing, and I replied with a very curt "no thank you." Who knows? Maybe his situation was indeed worthy of a few cents or dollars, but I didn't stick around long enough to find out. This morning I observed someone get out of his truck, after his light had turned green, to give two people standing on a corner money. I wasn't close enough to see how much, but I did see folded money in his outstretched hand. (It should be noted that I am presently in Billings, Montana, as I write this)... I wondered if I'll ever get to that place again.
I should also note that my opinion of Cuencanos and Ecuadorians hasn't dropped... I have heard that scammers in Cuenca are from all over South America, so I don't really know the origins of the two thieves, but I still love the city and the country. I have made many local friends through biking, and look forward to making more; I will just be very suspicious of anyone, anywhere, whether it be Ecuador or the U.S., who ask me for anything. And that's not the way I'd like to be.
Of Trucks and Things
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