After a wonderful evening hanging out with Angela Shelton and the B.A.C.A. Nation folks I battled the Las Vegas winds to ride home. Made it safe and sound but with a few frayed nerves. The wind was nasty and unpredictable.
So, I go into the apartment to have a beer, check e-mail and unwind. My daughter, Ed (long story) left me a note to check around for her cell phone. I do.
Not in the apartment from what I can determine.
Maybe the pickup. I open the garage door and walk out. My pickup is parked right around the corner and at midnight or so, there is no one around but myself. So, I leave the door open. Stupid me.
I walk around the corner and check my truck. Nope. Not there. As I close the door, four teenagers (or maybe on their early 20's) walk around the corner. Two guys and two girls. The guys have helmets and are joking around. "HA, here is my Xanax money" or something to that effect.
Initially I think little of it. There are many dirt bikers here and I just thought they were clowning around with their helmets.
Something wasn't right. It hit me. I sprint to my garage around the corner. Helmets are not there.
Cell phone. 911.
I run back to the car they got in. They are leaving. I point my finger at them. 'They had better stop. Those are MY helmets!'
Instead they nearly run me down to speed away.
Folks. If you steal, don't do it from bikers. The cops have their license plate and the word is out to watch for my helmets.
If I see them, I have a few four letter words for them. Plans must be changed now. I was going on a charity run tomorrow morning for a Pediatric Brain Tumor organization. Can't now. I will need to spend $100 or more of my money for a new helmet rather than having that for my trip.
Normally I am very laid back. I am not laid back now. I am pissed.
Just... DO NOT STEAL FROM BIKERS!!!
SID minimum climbing rates
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