clang clang clang went the trolley...di 'holy crap where'd my bell go?'

I mean seriously who would steal a bike bell?
Now that spring is (allegedly) on it's way (though they had a giant snowflake where my town should be on tonights weather report. I'm hoping it'll be just the one) I've pulled the bike (and my ever expanding butt) out of winter hibernation and found it's had little banlieue rats nibbling away at it while it was stored at in the Asnieres communal courtyard. For one, someone tried to have a little chomp away at the bike lock and being too totally lame to properly steal a girls bike (with a little panier attached in front (damn, whats the english word?) they figure they'll just steal the bell). How much street cred does that get you these days? Times can't have changed that much. I knew a funky rebel German exchange student once back when I was at a more appropriate age to read Harry Potter - they stole Mercedes hood ornaments and wore them as bling bling, back when bling bling had a better name (did it ever?). But what do you do with a bike bell? Except injure a few unsuspecting pedestrians further down the line who never got to hear the 'dring dring' of the approaching bike as the rider was going 'hmm, better warn these folk I'm com - hey, where's my bike bell gone? *crash*'
Ok, no, that didn't happen.

Some things I learnt about living in Paris is that whatever it is, if it's not nailed down, someone WILL steal it. The other thing about Paris - is that even if it is nailed down, they will steal the nails. And then they will steal it.