Korean Ryan Gets a Ride in a Police Car

NOTE: This post was originally written for my email list on 08/18/2004. It was edited and updated today, 10/13/2004. There was a lot more to tell with this story, so I added it on at the end. Everything I added is clearly marked and in italics.

Why? you ask. Simple: my bike was stolen. I'm not telling this for pity (although it was a damn good bike); I'm telling to detail how the Korean police system works.

When I had my work call in to tell them that my bike was stolen, the police actually came to my work with, get this, two police cars containing four officers. They were there within a half hour.

They took me and someone to interpret for me to a police station across town. The entire staff present seemed to be standing around listening to this exchange. Korea, obviously, has very little crime. I'm pretty sure this was their top priority of the day.

They took down my address, the details of the bike, when it was stolen, and the basic stuff. After that, my interpreter talked to the guy for another 15 minutes. I have no idea what about. Then I was escorted back to my school--this time with only one car and only one officer.

Just to juxtapose, when my radio was stolen from my car a few months ago in the US, all I got was a report taken over the phone and a "we probably won't find it."

Well, that's it. Good thing I make enough money here to buy a new bike in a couple weeks--but for now, my world is a little smaller (hard to get some places without transportation).

Updated 10/13/2004: It was a full month after my bike was stolen that I found my bike lock. I always kind of assumed that the theives threw the locked bike in the back of a truck or something. Not so. They probably rode it away. I found the bike lock less than 20 feet from my apartment building in an empty lot. The lock hadn't been cut. It had been smashed somehow. I'm not even sure now.

About a week after I found my lock, the police AGAIN showed up at my work. Great, I though, they must have found my bike. They didn't. They came back to do a checkup; essentially all they had to say was "we're still looking."

Luckily I had a better translator this time (my first translator was Kevin, one of the bus drivers and someone whom I've grown to like quite a bit--despite the fact that he barely speaks English and I barely speak Korean). My boss, Rose, sat in and translated.

We learned that all this time, the police had been looking for an "Indiana" brand bike. See, I told them that the bike said "Summit City Bicycles, Fort Wayne, Indiana" on it. They must have only caught the "Indiana" part, and not, say, that my bike is actually a "Specialized" brand "Rockhopper," something they didn't have written down even though I remember saying it at least twice. Damn this language barrier.

Well, it's been about another month since the update and still no word on my bike. I'm not holding my breath. I already have a new one, even though it's a piece of crap compared to the one I HAD. Guess I shouldn't have gone to all the trouble of bringing my nice, nice bike with me.

Ryan