in 1979 i bought the ugliest 1976 bicentenial edition harley wideglide, it was so ugly it was cool
i absolutely loved that bike.
had it about a month, and got a knock on the door , a neighbor cornered two thieves and the cops were there.
my bike was in a few dozen pieces on the lawn,, they were parting it out!
they had them handcuffed in the squad car and asked me if i wanted to say anything to them?
i said no, but i have something i want them to do! put it back together again!
so they took them out of the cuffs and made them reassemble the bike to my satisfaction, recuffed them and took em to jail.
cool!
about a month later 3 guys tried to lift it into a pickup and a neighbor happened to see them loading it and thought it was me and a couple of buddies
so he didn't call anyone... the bike flipped on its side and crushed one of the perps! they kicked the bike back out on the pavement and sped away with the
injured guy screaming for several blocks (the neighbor said he must have heard his screaming for 6 or more blocks)
the bike received a broken clutch lever and a couple of scrapes but nothing serious,, cool!
then about 3 months later a guy came up in the middle of the night, cut the massive lock off the steering, and another lock off the rear drive
hotwired it and road it off into the night! the bastard!!
but wait,, it ain't over yet
the next afternoon after work i am stepping out of the shower and i hear my harley winding to the moon (it was the only 1200wideglide with a 2into1
header pipe) so i ran wet and naked to the window and looked out.
there in the street was my bike with some asshole sitting on it with a full coverage helmet with the smoked out screen, winding it up and down
he flipped me off and sped off and that was the last time i ever saw my bike.
lucky for him i did not own a gun,, he would have been stone cold dead and i probably would be getting out of prison about now.
after a few days i called the police dept and was transferred to the detective responcible for theft recovery of harleys (yes they had one cop assigned to that
duty).
he told me mine was number 47 for the year and related to me the following
"bob, there are three possible places where your bike likely is, go to each and see if it is there. if you find it use whatever means you feel necessary to get it back"
i asked him what he meant by that, and he just repeated the same sentence and told me to read between the lines!
so i go to the first place , it is populated with what appeared to be a dozen or better rejects from the hell's angels! you know the type
the kind of guy that would cut his own mothers throat for a hamburger!
i thought about what the detective told me for about 10 seconds and realized that there are many of them and one of me.
and i don't own an Uzi or a bazooka.
i never went to the other three places.
however every night for maybe 10 years i would utter a silent little prayer to god
"please lord if my bike is out there and the guy that stole it is riding it, let it fall on him while he is driving down the highway
and grind his leg off"
i fully understand why they used to hang horse thieves.
bob g
