A few months ago, I wrote a piece about how my bicycle was stolen from outside my apartment in Brooklyn. It went viral.

In short, the story is this: I painted a huge sign and left it for the thief. My doorbell rang several times over the next few days with different people trying to help me, including some kids who gave me a kid’s bike, a woman who gave me a hug and an art dealer who bought my painted sign for $200 — the value of my bike. Ultimately, it was a story about humanity. It even had a hashtag, #KarmaCycle.

After my essay was published in the Washington Post, the worldwide media attention came quickly. For a girl who grew up watching Carson Daly on MTV in the mid-90s, hearing him say my name on the Today show was a big deal. But as a woman who regularly hears the phrase “fake news” thrown around, I got a firsthand look. While most news outlets got it right, some got it wrong.

My story was twisted by a few places, including a slide show that aired of a painter (supposedly me; I am not a painter) getting assaulted by a robber (what?) while riding her bike. It was in Spanish.

The mistakes were entertaining, but the essence of the story remained: It was about inspired strangers working within their means to help each other. Back in Brooklyn, I felt the need to bring the goodwill story full circle.

To begin with, I had a kid’s bike to give away, given to me by Stranger No. 1. I called dozens of local elementary and middle schools asking if they knew a kid who needed a bike. Some people were skeptical. Why are you giving away a bike? What’s wrong with it? Others thought it was great, but couldn’t fathom what to do with it. How should we decide who deserves it? Do you have one for everyone?

Doing good was going to be harder than I thought.

Then there was the question of the $200 from Stranger No. 3. I wanted to buy a bike, but I didn’t want the bucks to (literally) stop with me. I don’t consider myself a biker (no clip-ins or padded spandex here), but I love biking in New York City, and I’m shocked at how many of my friends don’t have bikes.

I’m a video producer, so I decided to make a short film about my bike hunt to expose people to some of NYC’s bike resources — and to have a little fun.

That’s when Citi Bike called.

I have conflicting feelings about New York City’s largest bike share company. Citi Bike helps New Yorkers save the planet by biking, but only if you have a credit card. When they heard I was thinking of making a film, they graciously gave me 100 free day passes to give to others, which I did. But they also suggested I make a film about that.

I like a spectacle (remember the eight-by-three-foot sign that started this whole thing?), and the lure of working with a name like Citi Bike is a big deal, especially as a video producer. The more we talked about it, however, the more uneasy I felt. It was uncomfortable because it was staged. It felt fake — and my bike story was real.

I didn’t make the Citi Bike video. But I did spray-paint my old bicycle wheel and ride around town in search of a new bicycle on my own, and try to highlight local bike stores in the process.

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

And the kid’s bike didn’t end up at a middle school auction. It went to an 18-year-old who asked my husband for money to buy shoes for his basketball team and ended up with the bicycle after a 25-minute conversation.

The #KarmaCycle story ended as it began, with a gift and a bicycle. Most importantly, the intentions behind the gifts stayed real, not fake. And that’s what the story is about.