No good story ever started with this line…

And this is a very sad story, relating to the death of a man allegedly at the hands of another. But honestly

According to Matilda Cochrane, her son left their home in Westlake at 11.40pm Sunday January 28 to sell a vintage bicycle to the accused’s father in a nearby street.

Clearly, this is not the safest neighbourhood in what is not a very safe city, in what is most definitely a very unsafe country. And it’s horrendous that this woman’s son – he was 40 years old – has lost his life.

But couldn’t the sale of the vintage bicycle maybe have waited until Monday morning?

Was it absolutely necessary to go out onto those dangerous streets and seal the deal before midnight? Is this some sort of Cinderella scenario whereby the vintage bicycle turns back into a sweet potato when the clock chimes 12?

I am absolutely not victim-blaming, but it’s not like we don’t know where we live. You take precautions and modify your behaviour accordingly. And that surely includes maybe delaying the sale of classic veliocipedes for maybe 8 hours until Monday morning, when the nastiest, most dangerous people are at least less likely to be out and about causing mischief. And after all, waiting just those few hours longer means that your vintage piece is actually that little bit more vintage, perhaps even allowing you to push for a better price.

Because no good can ever come of heading out at a quarter to midnight to sell and old bike to a neighbour.

Believe me.