Man, I hate thieves. THis is an especially sore subject with me, as my Veteran's Day deer hunt was interupted by a frantic call from my house 42 miles away. My wife had returned home and there were thieves in our house. They fled out the back and through the woods, and she never saw a vehicle of any kind.
I made it from my deer camp 42 miles away only minutes behind the cops, and she had called 911. Furthermore, we have a registered sex offender living one house up, and I've been told that bumps us up the "priority list" in case of emergency calls. Bull Shit.
Things were taken from us that mean a lot. A rifle my dad gave me for my 14th birthday. Stuff that had been in my wife's family for 150 years. Mostly though, the sanctity of our home has been violated. I have reached a point where I no longer even care if we catch the thieves that hit us, I just want us to catch a thief. Any thief will do just fine.
Not meaning to hijack, man, and I sincerely hope you beat whoever messed with your bike to death. Funeral Required Death.
Ride In Peace, Rick "Rubberdown" Massey
Ride Forever Free, Larry Weaver