It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Super Zesty!

Yes Dear Reader, I was able to strike a decisive blow for justice on Monday.

Rembrandt and I were heading out for a bite to eat. As we headed up to the main road we heard this horrendous bang, like an engine backfiring or a fire cracker going off.

Turning around, we saw a rental truck, but there was nothing wrong with it. No damage, no wiggling exhaust pipe, nothing. As the truck started to back into wherever it was going to, it revealed the bike it had just crushed. The back tired was completely pretzeled.

My outrage knew no bounds. They didn't even stop. So I proceeded to leave myself a voice message at work with the license plate number. Then I just ended up memorizing it and went into the building next the where the bike was parked.

It was deserted, so I decided to leave a note on the bike, except that the truck and its evildoers were still there. I figured they would take the note, so Rembrandt and I went off to lunch. My plan was to just tape it to the door of the office building.

It ended up that when were heading back to the office, there was a fellow standing outside by the bike. I said "Is that your bike?" and he said "No. It's my friend's."

So I handed him a note that had the license number of the truck and the time of the bike pretzling and my phone number

The bike owner left a message with me later saying that he'd been able to file a claim for the bike with the rental truck company and just wanted to thank me very much.

Beware evil doers! Zesty is watching!