Missing Motorcycle

It is a weird feeling when you walk out your front door to where your vehicle used to be. The place where it should still be. The place that is now empty.

When something is stolen from you, it makes you feel as if the earth has tilted just a bit. Just enough to make you wonder if the problem is actually in your mind. You start to wonder if you just misplaced your motorcycle. You start to think things like, Maybe I parked it in the street or Maybe it fell between the cushions on the couch. 


The motorcycle is the third vehicle to be stolen from right out of our driveway. The first two were trucks. When the first truck was not in the driveway where we had clearly left it, we stood there scratching our heads and looking up and down the block, like we might have accidentally left it in a neighbor's yard with our newspaper. We finally gathered our wits and called the police who found it about five blocks away. What happened next is unexplainable.

Whoever stole the truck left it in a parking lot but took the key. We only had one key, because we are brilliant like that. My husband opened the driver's side door, sat in the driver's seat, and attempted to turn the wheel. Since he didn't have a key and could not start the truck, the wheel would not turn. He gave it a bit more force. AND RIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL CLEAN OFF OF THE DASH! I am not kidding. It fell into his lap.

He walked across the parking lot with the steering wheel in his hands. When we looked at him with puzzled expressions he explained, "I nudged it."

I love him.