July 17th, 2009
Heather’s story is not one many Toronto cyclists may be used to hearing. Although it begins with what is for many an all too common experience - having one’s bike stolen - the tale finishes with a scene that wouldn’t seem out of place in a James Bond film or Tom Clancy novel. Complete with an improvised set-up at the appropriately named ‘Castle Frank’ subway station, a team of undercover cops, nervous yet supportive friends and a tinted ‘old-school’ SUV, Heather’s story is nothing short of spectacular.
It begins on the Friday night of the long weekend in May, while Heather was having a drink with friends at a bar in Kensington. “I had a feeling and I don’t normally have that feeling,” recalled Heather, who was anxious over her bike which she had parked outside to a post-and-ring. “It’s a nice enough bike that I don’t normally take it out at night,” she explains, making it all the worse when, to her shock, she emerged from the bar only to find both her bike and lock nowhere to be found.
Hearing about her loss the following day, a friend jokingly searched Kijiji for a similar bike to Heather’s. He found one selling for $750 and light-heartedly sent her the link via Facebook. Remarkably, her friend had actually stumbled upon Heather’s stolen bike, identifiable not only by its make and colour, but by its loosened front brakes mentioned in the description - an adjustment Heather always makes to avoid going head over her heels in case she has to stop suddenly.
In disbelief, she called the number provided and arranged to meet with her potential bike thief for Tuesday. Following the phone call, she filed a stolen bike report to a cop who, as Heather describes, was completely uninterested in her story and just wanted to take down her info and be done with it.
July 7th, 2008
UPDATE: Thanks to everyone who entered this contest, and congratulations to our winner — Jeff Garkowski. The answers to the questions have been added to the bottom of this post.
Think you know Toronto’s streets? …
May 19th, 2008
For many Torontonians, Neville Park means “Yes, I’m going all the way — unless I short-turn at Connaught or Kingston Road.”
Thanks to its long-standing status as the eastern terminus of the 501 streetcar (and, by extension, its place on the rollsign of streetcars heading for the Beach end of the city’s longest route), Neville Park Boulevard is a name that’s likely familiar to ten times more Torontonians than have actually walked the street itself.
Frances Jane Neville was the daughter of former Toronto mayor George Monro. After Monro died, his heirs leased some of the substantial family estate in the city’s east end to the Toronto Railway Company, for the purposes of opening an amusement park. Munro Park (the misspelling stuck — it’s now a street name in the area) operated along the waterfront near the foot of what’s now Neville Park Boulevard for a decade around the turn of the 20th century. It closed in 1906, the same year as nearby Victoria Park — which was located where the R.C. Harris Water Treatment Plant sits today.
