Oh My God, They’ve Taken My Baby!
Yes, I’m afraid the Harley was the result of an early mid-life crisis and too many Arnold Scwarzenegger films. Despite the fact it was described as the most evilly handling motorcycle in the world (and not just by me), it never failed to put a smile on your dial on the sunny days I took it out for a ride. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only person who liked it.
The insurance company had just written me another letter warning me of the extraordinary high rate of theft of Harleys, but of course I was all right - the bike had an alarm, was chained to the ground in the garage every night, the garage was locked and the car parked in the driveway blocking access to the garage...
Anyway, you have to admire their professionalism, not only did they bring the correct grade of giant bolt cutters, they knew how to disable the alarm, and even stole a truck to carry the bike off in. This was all on a Saturday night when we were home, and we didn’t hear a thing. Sort of glad we didn’t really, given the fact they managed to pick the bike up and lift it over the car without a scratch. Harley’s are big, and I guess so were they. “Hey, what are you doing with my bike! Aah right you are then, give you a hand with that, fellas?”