it all comes back to us eventually

The year is 1979, I am 11, & my friends are currently the pre-gang crowd. Now I say pre-gang because most of the boys on my block grew up to drop out of school/get GED's, and run with the gangs, use drugs, that sort of undesirable behavior.
But, back then, it was all silly horseplay.
So hanging out with these boys, I had on small occasions, participated in the not so desirable activities, such as thievery. Now my five finger discounting was all for the thrill of getting away with it, and trying to "hang tough" with my friends. Well, on this particular day, we decided we needed to go to the dimestore. This was Woolworth's for those of you who are old enough to know the dimestore, and for those of you who dont, well, it was the 1970's answer to the dollar store. you cold get everything there, including goldfish and hamsters. I remember many a goldfish being brought home in a bag, only to find it upside down a few weeks later.
So here we are, approaching the store, when we see a red cobra bmx bike, unlocked, resting up against the window. The lightbulbs start illuminating from all of us at once, and Tommy starts to say what we are all thinking. "free bike"
I dont know how they convinced the only female of the group to be the one to steal this thing, but somehow I let myself be bullied into grabbing that bike, and riding it back to my house like I was in the indy 500. All I remember of the moment was some short kid running out of woolworth's screaming "hey, hey, that's mine" (yeah, no kidding, it certainly wasnt ours)
I grew up in a house with storm doors, (in case of the ever so rare tornado), so we ran into my backyard and stashed the bike in the basement. we parted most of it out, forks to my friend Kurt, Tommy took the front tire, and I kept the frame. I painted the frame black, for fear that if someone had x-ray vision, and looking into my basement, they wouldnt know it's original color. That bike stayed in my basement for years. The REALLY WEIRD thing is, my parents never asked me where it came from or what it was doing in our basement. If I was my parents, I would have been all over my A**.
So, fast forward to 1983, I am now 16, and I am going out with this guy Peter. we go down to the basement, to get a little privacy, and that stupid bike is still there. We start kissing, talking, and he glances over to the place where the bike sits. he stops, and I see his mind thinking. He looks at me and says, oh wow, I used to have a bike just like that but it was red. I am now starting to become mortified at the reality of the situation beginning to take shape. Before I can even start to think, he continues to say, "but it got stolen" I am now really mortified. What do I do? does he know it's his? I dont think he does, and do I come clean? I feel guilt beyond guilt, and I conclude that I am going to fess up. It's the right thing to do.
I say to him, "so, did your bike get stolen in front of woolworths?" He nods with a "yeah" that is filled with his lightbulb moment beginning. "Well, Peter, that is your bike" "and I was the one that ripped it off" I continue to aplogize, and offer the bike up to him, (I just didnt know what to do or say). I explained the whole situation, and he was quite nice about it. It had been 5 years after all, and I was his girlfriend. This was my first realization that EVERYTHING, will come back around to you eventually, so you better be ok with the things you choose to do in life, and prepared to face the consequences of your actions.
As a side note, Peter and I only went out for a couple of weeks after that incident, then we broke up.