Edition One

“Tens of thousands who could never afford to own, feed and stable a horse, had by this bright invention enjoyed the swiftness of motion which is perhaps the most fascinating feature of material life.”
—Frances Willard

The bond between humankind and the bicycle has evolved steadily since the first revolution of pedals, ascending to a rite of passage for some and a spiritual journey for many. Cutting the tie that binds bicycle and rider has a profound impact on the value of the bicycle as a significant life experience. For Justin Keena, the bond he shared with his bicycle was never more salient than when it was taken from him.

The OBEY bicycle—a collaboration between Fuji and well-known propaganda artist and designer Shepard Fairey—was special. Rumored to be only three hundred in existence, the OBEY was a rare find. The limited edition frame was tailor made for track bicycle enthusiasts like Keena, who ride with a single fixed-gear, sans brakes.

In a locked garage, racked to the roof of his vehicle, Keena discovered his OBEY had been muscled, lifted and spirited away by perpetrators unknown. There are nearly 300,000 bicycles burglarized in the United States each year with a slim to anorexic chance of being recovered. Keena assumed his scenario no different. Three-months later—the OBEY out-of-mind and sight, yet still lamenting the loss—he finds a thread of hope.

A classifieds posting on Craigslist described a mismatched wheel set exactly like those on the abducted OBEY. Keena enlisted an army of friends and family to contact the seller, trawling to see who could successfully draw him in. Posing as a buyer purchasing a Christmas gift for her boyfriend, the snare was successfully set by Keena’s own girlfriend. The seller, unaware of the subterfuge employed to reach him by email, had used his real name.

Leveraging the surplus of information freely available on the Internet, Keena created a dossier profiling his target. Address. Phone number. Recent photographs. Enough information to try and repossess the OBEY on his own if he dared. Instead Keena presented his findings to local authorities. Unbeknownst to Keena, the police were already familiar with the Craigslist seller.

His rap sheet read like a low-budget criminal bona fide. Drug dealing. Possession. Shooting at a police officer—a criminal offense he escaped due to family connections in the legal system. The police were more than willing to pursue the OBEY wheels for another opportunity to apprehend the hooligan.

The Sting came together the same night Keena visited the police. Detectives brought on as backup were given the green light for overtime. Officers convened and briefed on their strategy and positions. Two cruisers staked out the sellers home, while undercover police vehicles parked in the lot of a 7-Eleven where the exchange would take place. Inside the convenience store, a plain clothed detective played Keno while another in ripped jeans and a low-cut halter bought a Slurpee. Keena sat in the parking lot with his girlfriend. A detective with a bulletproof vest and semi-automatic, armed with rubber bullets, hid in the rear of their minivan.

A rush of police from all sides converged on the seller as he crossed the parking lot, wheel set in hand. Heralded by sirens and flashing red and blue lights, detectives brandishing badges emerged from inside 7-Eleven and their undercover vehicles. Face planted against Keena’s minivan, the hood pleaded his innocence. At his home, police discovered a basement full of stolen bicycles. Discarded in the backyard, rusted and covered in snow, was the neglected frame of the OBEY.

“Going through those near death experiences with a loved one, just seals the deal and makes it an unbreakable bond after that.”
—Justin Keena