I feel like crap.
No, not that way. Physically I'm fine. No, this is something else altogether different. Turns out I was contributory in the negligence that led to a friend's motorcycle being stolen. Fortunately, there's a happy-enough ending, but let me run through the story with you.
So my friend Lisa owns a 2003 Harley-Davidson 100th Anniversary Edition Low Rider, and a 2006 Hayabusa limited. She likes her "special" bikes, I suppose. Her 'Busa is drop-dead gorgeous, pearl white with sliver accents. Very nice. The Low Rider is classic black and chrome. Very stylish.
I've had her 'Busa at my house for a couple of weeks while I've been working on it. Doing some electrical modifications and a few other little things. The type of work that a dealer would knock her over the head for, but I can do in a couple of evenings after work. Why not? I get to tinker, she gets to save a little money and, oh hey... did I mention I get to ride the 'Busa whenever I want? Awesome!
So last Saturday I went and met up with her to grab some parts she had for me. I took her Harley for a little ride, and afterwards, pulled it into the garage for her. I left the key in it. Hopped on her 'Busa and went on my way, continuing my day. Through a series of unfortunate events, the bike ended up sitting in the garage with the key in it and the garage door was left open. Sunday morning, some time in the whee hours, the bike was taken.
Lisa emailed me on Sunday morning that the bike was gone. My heart sank. My first thought was that I was the last person to touch it, and I left the key in it. Lisa assured me it was nothing to worry over - that she leaves the key in it all the time... in the closed garage. But I couldn't think about that. I could only believe that had I taken the key out and handed it to her, she might have taken the extra steps in the evening to ensure the door was closed, or at least the key would be in the house, not hanging out of the bike's ignition.
She called the police, called the insurance company, got everything started and began the waiting game. I can only imagine how she felt. I can only imagine it because I felt absolutely, gut-wrenching horrible about it, and she had to be feeling multitudes worse. It took her a year to order and wait for this bike; the one she wanted, according to her tastes and such. She's had it since new, every mile on it is hers and every scratch, nick and stone chip probably tells some kind of story.
And it was gone. And it is my fault... at least partially.
I spent the next couple of days feeling like this... bouncing between sympathy and guilt, never really understanding how she must actually be feeling. She made a few jokes about how she was going to spend the insurance money and such, but I know she was pretty upset. And she had every right to be at least a little upset with me. I know... her bike, her garage, her job to lock it up... I know. Doesn't mean I still didn't feel it.
Fast forward to Wednesday... I got an email from Lisa that "They found my bike. Leaving work. Talk later."
Awesome news!!! Of course I was on pins and needles all day waiting to hear the good news. Finally she got hold of me... turns out, it looks like it was just a theft of opportunity. The bike was found near by abandoned in someone's back yard; the home owner called the police. The bike was fine, a little dirty and in need of fuel. The key was found in the street at the front of the house.
The police did their crime-scene thing, then released the bike to Lisa. Her husband came and rode it back home (and yes, took the key out and locked everything back up). They discussed new rules for the garage, lock-up procedures each night, etc.
I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear the news, and I can only imagine the joy and relief Lisa must have felt... and must still be feeling.
If there's a lesson to be learned, it should be obvious... always stick to your routine when it comes to stuff like this, and of course, all the common-sense things apply; lock up, don't leave the keys in the vehicles, pay attention to your surroundings, take note of strange cars or people going by, blah, blah, blah.
Lessons learned... guilt felt... happy ending. Very, very lucky.
Congrats, Lisa. And again... I'm sorry for my part in all that.