Not my 'busa. 
I posted this in another "stolen bike" thread, so if you read it there skip this. I thought this story was good enough to warrant a thread of its own though, so here it is, for your amusement.
I once had a 1984 Honda Nighthawk I parked in front of the house I rented. Over time I got in the habit of not locking the forks. Wasn't long before someone pushed it a couple of blocks down the street and stripped it. I recovered the frame and engine. They had taken a hacksaw to the frame to try to get the engine out, but were unsuccessful in their efforts.
I only paid $400 for it, so it was no great loss at the time. It was actually two or three days before I even noticed it was gone. There's no way I'd park my 'busa outside if I still lived in that neighborhood. I suspect I could get away with it for quite a while where I live now.
The funny thing about the Nighthawk is I should have known better. I'll swear on any book you consider holy that the following story is 100% true:
One early Sunday morning about 2 a.m. I get a loud knock on the front door. I stumble out of bed and answer the door in my underwear. There were three police officers standing on my front porch. "Oh no! I thought they'd never find the body!" I thought! j/k
"Is this your motorcycle?" one of the officers asked while stepping aside and shining his flashlight onto the Nighthawk, which was laying on it's right side on the sidewalk where I parked it.
"Yes it is." I replied.
"Put some clothes on and come out and let us know if there's any damage."
"Ok"
I found there wasn't any new damage, or at least any that I thought was worth mentioning, as the bike had been laid over by the previous owner and I'd never fixed it because the damage wasn't that bad.
"Do you know this person?" the officer asked. "He told us he stays here often."
Looking where the officer was shining his flashlight, I saw a short, African-American man probably in his early thirties. He couldn't have weighed 130 lbs. soaking wet.
"He stays here? I've never seen him before in my life."
"Okay, thanks. We're going to arrest him."
I asked how they caught him. The guy was walking along drunk, and upon seeing my motorcycle, decided he wanted it. He got on it and pushed it forward, but didn't realize the forks were locked.
Not expecting it to turn, and not having enough mass to stop the momentum, he found himself pinned underneath the motorcycle after it fell over on top of him.
He wasn't strong enough to push the motorcycle off of him, so he executed the next thought that came into his alcohol soaked brain...screaming for help at the top of his lungs.
My neighbors were awakened by the screaming and went out to help, but immediately realized that guy had no business being where he was. They called the police, who showed up in force to "rescue" the ill-fated bike thief.
Like I wrote, I should have known better. Over the years though I've gotten far more than $400 worth of laughs out of that story alone.
I posted this in another "stolen bike" thread, so if you read it there skip this. I thought this story was good enough to warrant a thread of its own though, so here it is, for your amusement.
I once had a 1984 Honda Nighthawk I parked in front of the house I rented. Over time I got in the habit of not locking the forks. Wasn't long before someone pushed it a couple of blocks down the street and stripped it. I recovered the frame and engine. They had taken a hacksaw to the frame to try to get the engine out, but were unsuccessful in their efforts.
I only paid $400 for it, so it was no great loss at the time. It was actually two or three days before I even noticed it was gone. There's no way I'd park my 'busa outside if I still lived in that neighborhood. I suspect I could get away with it for quite a while where I live now.
The funny thing about the Nighthawk is I should have known better. I'll swear on any book you consider holy that the following story is 100% true:
One early Sunday morning about 2 a.m. I get a loud knock on the front door. I stumble out of bed and answer the door in my underwear. There were three police officers standing on my front porch. "Oh no! I thought they'd never find the body!" I thought! j/k
"Is this your motorcycle?" one of the officers asked while stepping aside and shining his flashlight onto the Nighthawk, which was laying on it's right side on the sidewalk where I parked it.
"Yes it is." I replied.
"Put some clothes on and come out and let us know if there's any damage."
"Ok"
I found there wasn't any new damage, or at least any that I thought was worth mentioning, as the bike had been laid over by the previous owner and I'd never fixed it because the damage wasn't that bad.
"Do you know this person?" the officer asked. "He told us he stays here often."
Looking where the officer was shining his flashlight, I saw a short, African-American man probably in his early thirties. He couldn't have weighed 130 lbs. soaking wet.
"He stays here? I've never seen him before in my life."
"Okay, thanks. We're going to arrest him."
I asked how they caught him. The guy was walking along drunk, and upon seeing my motorcycle, decided he wanted it. He got on it and pushed it forward, but didn't realize the forks were locked.
Not expecting it to turn, and not having enough mass to stop the momentum, he found himself pinned underneath the motorcycle after it fell over on top of him.
He wasn't strong enough to push the motorcycle off of him, so he executed the next thought that came into his alcohol soaked brain...screaming for help at the top of his lungs.
My neighbors were awakened by the screaming and went out to help, but immediately realized that guy had no business being where he was. They called the police, who showed up in force to "rescue" the ill-fated bike thief.
Like I wrote, I should have known better. Over the years though I've gotten far more than $400 worth of laughs out of that story alone.
