There's A Bike With My Name On It At The Police Department

Last month a bicycle mysteriously appeared in our front yard. A white mountain bike, to be more specific. It was no great prize; it looked like it had seen a lot of miles and was a cheap looking brand. My first thought was that a kid in the neighborhood had dropped it when mom called him home to dinner. I figured they would be back for it and so we left it in the yard.
About day three I realized no one was coming back for the bike. It was creepy having a discarded bicycle lying in our yard. If a bicycle can ever look lonely, this one did, sort of like an eerie, ghost bike bemoaning the loss of it's owner. I wondered about the kid it belonged to. How on earth could a kid just leave their bike and not come back for it?
Then it dawned on me- it was probably a stolen bike that someone had ditched in our yard. Why, I don't know. Perhaps it was because we live next to a busy street and the thief didn't want to be seen riding it. But then again, "Why," didn't matter; what mattered was what to do with the bike now.
I was taking it out back with the intention of putting it in the alley; someone would come and take it,  but I didn't care really, I just knew I didn't want it. Something made me stop. "What is the right thing to do?" I wondered. With the vast number of moral failings in my life I was suddenly considering the proper avenue to take in getting rid of stolen merchandise. I think I'm a pretty strange person.
The thought occurred to me to call the police and ask them if I could just ditch it in the alley for the trash pickup. I called and they told me I could not and said they would send an officer over to pick the bike up and give me a receipt for it. Disaster averted, I waited for the policeman.
Twenty minutes later the car arrived and the officer took the bike away, giving me a receipt and informing me that if no one claimed the bike in such and such a time the bike would become mine if I wanted to claim it.
As a side note, I've noticed that police never want to come into my house when I invite them in after reporting something. Maybe I'm a scary looking person? Hopefully it's just protocol to not enter people homes unless it's necessary, but here in Arizona when it's over 100 degrees outside, I'd rather they come in where it's cool to fill out paperwork. I promise not to do anything stupid.
Back to the bike, I don't want to claim it; it's a piece of junk. Today I received a notice in the mail that the waiting period is complete and I can go pick it up if I want to. In another 30 days the police will then get rid of it. Kind of makes you wonder how much stuff is down at the police department looking for an owner. Why can't someone leave a '68 Corvette in my yard?