My brother gave me a BMX bike when I was little. I called it Fido Dido.
Fido Dido was a tough little bastard, a cartoon guy with spiky hair. I thought he was the coolest. But the bike got stolen quickly outside the Rosengård bathhouse and my dad went there , with open shirt and sleeves rolled up. He's the kind of guy who says: No one touches my kids! No one steals their stuff! But not even a tough guy like him could do anything about it. Fido Dido was gone, and I was devastated.
After that I started stealing bikes. I'd smash the locks. I became great at it. Bang, bang, bang, and the bike was mine. I was the bicycle thief. It was my first "thing". It was pretty innocent. But sometimes it got out of control.