Open Letter To All Area Bicycle Thieves

This is my bike and I love my bike. It's shiny and red and gets me to where I'm going in a hurry. I feel that this letter is necessary because I've been told by many people that it's only a matter of time until it's stolen. I suspect a group of my own students have an ongoing bet about when it's going to happen because whenever they see me they ask, with eyebrows raised in curious optimism, if it's gone yet. The letter is as follows:

Dear Bicycle Thieves,

This is my bike, when you see it chained up at the bus stop please ignore it. I love this bike so much, it is my life line. Without it I'd have to walk a half hour to the bus stop for work because I can't afford to take another bus down there (there's a coin crisis going on!). If you take it from me that means I will have to wake up at 6:00 am on Thursday and Friday mornings to leave enough time to get ready and be out the door by 7:00 to catch the bus for the half hour ride to work where I need to be by 8:00 am. My bike allows me a half hour's extra sleep, and at that time in the morning every minute counts.
It's such a pretty bike, I know, and it's my own fault. I should take precautions, sully it up a bit, take a brillo pad to it's shiny red paint to protect it from covetous eyes like yours. But I can't, it takes such good care of me and I couldn't bear to treat it so. So let me try to dissuade you:
First of all, it only has one gear, and yes, the city is flat, but the big money is in multi-gears, you know this. Secondly, I take great pains to wedge my bike between an iron fence and a cement block to make it as inconvenient as possible for you to steal. There's no way that you could stealthily wiggle it out of its hiding spot without attracting suspicious stares. I've also invested in a pretty serious lock to keep you away, so don't waste your time trying to steal one of my wheels.
Thirdly, you must've noticed by now that my bike is sometimes there, sometimes not. My daily schedule changes, sometimes I lock my bike up there in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon; sometimes for four hours, sometimes for two. The point is this: you never know when it's going to be there, and more importantly, you never know when I'm going to be walking up behind you as you're frantically trying to cut the lock. Not to sound creepy, but I carry pepper spray in my bag just in case I should ever chance upon you. I don't know what you call it in Spanish, but I'm sure your government has used it on you at some point or another in the past; it is sprayed in your eyes and it stings a lot. I take no pleasure in using it, but I will if you make me.

Kind Regards,

Alex

xoxo