Pete's Expert Summary
My human has, in a stunning display of poor judgment, brought home what appears to be a metallic serpent skeleton wrapped in a coarse, black sheath. They call it a "Kryptonite New York Lock," which sounds appropriately dramatic for such a ponderous thing. It's allegedly for securing their noisy, two-wheeled monstrosity. From my perspective, its only redeeming qualities might be the scratchable texture of the nylon cover and the potential for the three tiny, jangly keys to be batted under the sofa. However, at nearly nine pounds, it's far too heavy to be a proper toy, making it a monumental waste of floor space that could otherwise be used for sunbathing. It's an anchor, not an amusement.
Key Features
- HEAVY-DUTY CHAIN: Made from maximum strength 12mm 3T Hardened Manganese Steel Chain, the six-sided chain links provide ultimate cut resistance. Paired with a durable nylon cover and hook-and-loop fasteners to prevent frame damage
- EVOLUTION SERIES 4 DISC LOCK INCLUDED: Features a 14mm max-performance steel shackle and patented oval hardened steel crossbar for ultimate anti-theft protection
- DOUBLE DEADBOLT & HIGH-SECURITY CYLINDER: Hardened double deadbolt locking mechanism and disc-style cylinder offer strong resistance against pulling, drilling an picking
- DURABLE DESIGN: New York 1210 chain extends up to 100cm (3.25 ft) in circumference. Heavy-duty bike lock weighs 3.92kg (8.65 lbs). Includes three keys and rated 9/10 for ultimate security on our scale.
- SMART DETAILS FOR LONGEVITY: Includes a sliding dust cover to protect the lock cylinder and extend lock life in tough environments
- ATPO & KEY SAFE PROGRAM ELIGIBLE: Register to qualify for Kryptonite's Anti-Theft Protection Offer and Key Safe key replacement service
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The delivery thudded against the door with a finality that spoke of great mass. My human, grunting slightly, dragged the cardboard box inside. The air, once filled with the gentle scent of my afternoon nap, now crackled with the alien aroma of cold steel and packing tape. I observed from my perch on the armchair, a sleek gray arbiter in a tuxedo, tail twitching with mild irritation. The human produced not a crinkly bag of treats, nor a feather wand, but a formidable coil of black chain and a heavy, yellow-and-black metal object. It looked like a restraint for a small, ill-tempered dragon. I descended, landing with my customary silence, and padded cautiously towards the offering. The chain lay in a heap, its sheer weight making an indentation in the rug. The "durable nylon cover" felt rough and unyielding under my paw, a far cry from the soft fleece of my preferred blankets. I gave it an experimental scratch; the fabric resisted, offering no satisfying shred. The main lock was a solid, dense block of metal. I noticed a small, sliding dust cover over the keyhole. I nudged it with my nose. It slid. I slid it back. For a brief moment, this tiny, precise movement was the most interesting thing in the room. My attention then turned to the chain itself. Surely, such a linked object was meant to be chased, to be pounced upon, to be dragged triumphantly into my lair beneath the coffee table. I hooked a single, perfect claw under a link and pulled. Nothing happened. I put my full, pampered weight into it, a maneuver that can successfully topple a half-full glass of water from a great height. The chain did not budge. It was an insult. It was an immovable, indifferent beast of a thing, completely unimpressed by my efforts. It simply lay there, a heavy, silent testament to gravity. The human jangled the three keys, then promptly pocketed them, dashing my only remaining hope for a bit of sport. I understood then. This wasn't for me. This was a shackle, a tether for the human's "e-bike." It was a piece of their loud, metallic world, a brute-force solution to a problem I couldn't be bothered to understand. I gave the lock one last, disdainful sniff. It was not a toy. It was a guardian of metal, a sentinel of the garage. While utterly useless for play, I had to admit a certain grudging respect for its absolute, unmovable authority. I turned my back on it and returned to my armchair, leaving the cold, heavy thing to its tedious, important work. My nap, after all, was far more valuable.
