Shock Setting In

It’s now roughly about twenty hours since I learned that the Ducs were stolen while we were out of town and while the rest of the world seems nice and calm as I’m looking out my window, I find myself still pinching myself to see if this is actually happening. Like many folks who head away on long business trips all I wanted – matter of fact, all I could think about the last few days of the trip – was to come home to my bed, my dog, and my bikes. And now one of them is gone. And I feel almost naked. As if a part of my soul is missing. I know it’s only a material item, but still so much gets invested in one’s ride I find it hard to seperate who I am from what I choose to ride and enjoy. It’s almost as if the bikes are an extension of me and now someone has deliberately come and swiped one or part of me. Feels very strange and a bit unbalanced to be honest. And I keep thinking that the worst part of this deal is that two weeks ago what was a beautiful motorcycle is now nothing but a barren frame and engine, found laying on the side of the road. It’s not like this was some burned out or wrecked hulk of a chassis that some one is parting out because there’s nothing left to salvage. Nor is someone taking what’s left one magnificent bike and rebuilding a sister bike or classic ride – I’m thinking along the lines of some of the resto folks from Pebble Beach, who might take a wrecked Ferrari and salvage the transmission or parts to rebuild another one. No, here someone who clearly doesn’t respect the ride has taken a perfectly functional piece of Italian machinery and broken it down simply to sell parts. Leaving what was once a gorgeous motorcycle abandoned, basically killing it. What a shame…