The Fietsdepot and Amsterdam’s Bike Economy
By Kriti Swarup | Culture | November 2, 2023
Cover Illustration: Waterlooplein Bikes’ Store, 2023. Simon Ordonez / The Amsterdammer
In search of her stolen bike, Culture reporter Kriti Swarup tracks the bike thieves of Amsterdam.
Last week I became a “real” Amsterdammer, according to the staff at the Fietsdepot.
My bike is called the Pink Cahuna. I bought her at a bargain from the Waterlooplein market, about a year ago. Sixty euros for a geared Gazelle with hand brakes. She was most likely stolen goods. Amsterdam is known for its bikes – especially stolen ones. Since residents live in fear of mystical bike thieves, most bikes have a D-lock in addition to their chain lock. For further precaution, I painted my bike pink. After all, why would anyone steal an obnoxious-looking bike?
On a particularly tiring Thursday, I was in a rush – as most city-dwellers are – and locked my bike with a sleazy cable and good faith. I want to believe the best in people, but living in a concrete jungle is slowly changing that. As you might have guessed, when I walked back to Centraal, my Pink Cahuna was missing. I was sure of my parking spot; I remember thinking how beautiful the city looked behind my bike, like a fairytale. After an exhausting day of work, in the middle of moving houses, with an overdue essay for university, I now had another problem: a stolen bike. “This is fucked,” I said to my friend, and, as it goes in student life, she replied, “Beer?”
Two Desperados later, I hated Amsterdam and adulthood. I felt bitter about the world. Is human nature really that selfish? From New Delhi to Amsterdam, Asia to Europe, my focus on community had shrunk into an emphasis on the individual. When we live for ourselves, things start to matter more. More possessions, more locks, more fears…
After I was done spiralling, I thought, “What if people are not inherently bad?” So, I turned to governance. The Amsterdam Gemeente picks up illegally parked bikes, and to be fair, I did lock my bike to the bridge outside Centraal Station (very stupid, I know). All bikes taken by the municipality are listed on ‘verloren of gevonden’, a lost-and-found website. After half an hour of scrolling, there she was. The cops had taken my Pink Cahuna! A trip to Sloterdijk and €22.50 was all I needed to reunite with my companion. What goes around, comes around.
But this is where it got interesting. The Fietsdepot, Bornhout 8, is a huge lot overlooking some suburbs and windmills. About 5,000 unlocked bikes – omafiets, bakfiets, you name it – were lying outside the garage and reception. Embarrassed, I went to the booth. “My bike was taken away,” I said. The woman smiled at me and asked: “First time?” All they needed were my bike keys, the registration number from its website listing, and some ID. I paid the fine and they asked me to help myself to some coffee as I waited for my Pink Cahuna.
While waiting, I had to ask them a pressing question: “What do you do with all these bikes?” The abundance of bikes and lack of parking space combined with litigious Dutchies must yield profit, I thought. The act of cutting a lock and transporting a bike costs about €70 per bike, according to RTL Nieuws. Even though the payable fine is less than the cost of keeping walkways clear, bikes that are not picked up from the Fietsdepot within six weeks are sold or auctioned to private owners.
Who would turn down a good deal? Surely not the Gemeente. According to Het Parool, “about 80 percent of owners do not collect their bicycle from the Bicycle Depot.” In 2016, the Rotterdam municipality alone sold €301,348 worth of bastard bikes, RTL Nieuws reports. They also find that, when adding profits from both fines and sales, the four municipalities of Holland rake in about two million euros a year.
My rendezvous at the Fietsdepot revealed the mystical bike thieves of Amsterdam, hiding in plain sight – or rather, in a shady quarter of Sloterdijk. However, the bikes that go around, don’t always come around. Profits from the Gemeente’s bike economy are only a drop in the ocean of tax revenues. According to Statista, the Dutch government earned €223,535 million from tax revenues in 2021. How much of these profits are funnelled into biking infrastructure? Is it legal for law enforcement to capitalize on forgotten bikes? The Gemeente appears to gloss over its monopoly on Amsterdam’s prosperous bike economy, and the ethics of selling confiscated items seems blurry, like a cop snorting seized cocaine. Perhaps scrutiny of the municipal government, rather than its residents, is the only way to maintain a soft outlook on humanity in a harsh city.
Last week I became a “real” Amsterdammer, according to the staff at the Fietsdepot.
Kriti Swarup is a university student in Amsterdam. The views expressed here are not necessarily those of The Amsterdammer.
