Who Keeps Stealing the E‑Scooters? A Brief Investigation Into Berlin’s Newest Folk Sport

The e-scooter is Berlin’s most honest citizen: it arrives loud, wobbly, and already damaged, then disappears without saying goodbye. Which is also how most relationships end here, but at least the scooters don’t ask to “open up the dynamic.”

In Wedding, the theft of shared e-scooters has reached the kind of frequency usually reserved for:

package deliveries
romantic promises
“temporary” construction fences

And now everyone has a theory, because Berliners can’t just experience a problem—they have to turn it into a personality.

The Crime Scene: A Sidewalk With Vibes and Zero Accountability

If you’ve ever tried to find your reserved scooter and discovered it’s “nearby” in the same way your ex is “working on themselves,” you already know the ritual.

You open the app.

The dot is right there.

You walk to the dot.

The dot is lying.

And then you see it: the scooter’s last known location is inside a courtyard, behind a door code, beneath a pile of bicycles that look like they were assembled from spare despair.

This is not theft in the classic sense. Classic theft is a guy with a mask and a plan. This is Berlin theft: collaborative, chaotic, and powered entirely by resentment.

Suspect #1: The Entrepreneur With No Business Plan

Berlin is full of “founders” whose main product is explaining their “vision” while borrowing your lighter. These people see a scooter and think: asset.

They don’t steal it to ride it.

They don’t steal it to sell it.

They steal it to feel something.

To them, a scooter is a startup waiting to happen:

Step 1: take scooter
Step 2: claim it’s “upcycling”
Step 3: pivot into a newsletter
Step 4: somehow get funding

If you’ve ever seen a scooter missing its handlebars, that’s not vandalism—it’s product development.

Suspect #2: The Neighborhood Watch, Now With Main Character Syndrome

Every block has a neighborhood watch group that formed because one guy bought a headlamp and decided he’s Batman, but with worse cardio.

They patrol in pairs like it’s a nature documentary:

“Here we see the wild Berliner, observing a scooter.
He does not know what he is doing.
He will report it anyway.”

Their WhatsApp group is 40% blurry photos of strangers, 40% paranoia, and 20% “Does anyone have a good sourdough starter?”

When a scooter goes missing, they don’t ask where it went. They ask what it means.

And the answer is always the same: it means they should post more.

Suspect #3: The Chaos Tourist (Local Edition)

Berlin loves to complain about tourists, but the city’s biggest tourist problem is Berliners.

Some people steal scooters the way others collect vinyl:

not because they need them
not because they understand them
but because the act of owning too many makes them feel curated

These are the same people who move apartments every 11 months “for energy,” then act shocked when nothing in their life has improved.

Motive: The City’s Deeply Personal Relationship With “Rules”

Berlin’s social contract is simple: rules exist so we can all bond over ignoring them.

The scooter companies say:

“Please park responsibly.”

Berlin hears:

“Please hide this in a canal as performance art.”

The city’s moral compass isn’t broken—it’s just running on airplane mode.

The Official Response: A Perfect Circle of Shrugging

Authorities have promised a “coordinated effort,” which in Berlin translates to:

a meeting
a second meeting to recap the first meeting
a pilot project in one neighborhood
a press release written like a hostage note

Meanwhile, the scooters keep vanishing, and the apps keep insisting they’re “available,” in the same way a club at 4 a.m. insists it’s “safe.”

What We Learned (Unfortunately)

After weeks of investigation, I can confirm the truth: nobody is stealing these scooters because they’re valuable.

They’re stealing them because it’s easy, it’s fun, and it’s the only form of exercise that still feels culturally authentic.

In a city where commitment is terrifying and punctuality is suspicious, scooter theft is the one tradition that truly unites us.

So the next time your reserved ride disappears into the night, don’t take it personally.

Berlin doesn’t hate you.

Berlin just can’t stop shoplifting its own future.