quiksilver

I had a guy steal a mountain bike (Trek hardtail), my varmint rifle, my PS2 and 2 bookbags full of hunting equipment/random electronics/liquor/personal itemsall from my parents'driveway with the patio lights on.

Early Summer - I'd just moved home from college, and left my car in my parents' driveway still loaded with stuff(very safe neighborhood up to that point), and I went inside to hang out with the family for a while, planning on heading out to bring everything inside later. Car was unlocked, but we never locked our cars before - very safe neighborhood. I got home at8, and went back out there at11. Some scumbag must have been sneaking through the neighborhood going car-to-car emptying change trays when he hit the motherlode in my car. He stood in my driveway, put a thousand-dollar mountain bike together (front wheel was removed and it was stuffed in the hatch), went through the car, picking and choosing items to steal with the two duffel bags available. He found my varmint rifle buried under everything and wrapped in a blanket. Then, he rode off into thedarkness on my bike with my varmint rifle on his back, wearing my favorite backpack, and my hockey duffel bag on the handlebars. Note: there were lights on and people inside the house moving aroundthe whole time!

His luck ran out, b/c I went outside to get everything probably five minutes after he left. Enraged, I jumped in my car and caught up to him along the road. I saw the reflectors going, and the telltale reflective striping on my Ripcurl bag, and I stomped it to the floor, turbo screaming and I was chirping tires in every gear as I approached. I would have centered him on the hood if he'd have stayed on the road.

Lucky for him, heknew the gig was up, dumped the bike on a roadside bank, ran up the bank before I could run him over, dumped the gear, and ran down through the woods. I ran him down and cornered him on a pair of railroad tracks. It was dark, but I could tell he was a skanky black guy - probably a heroin addict. Real skinny and reeked of liquor. I told him that I was gonna kill him right there, and I picked up a good solid limb, and he started blathering about how he has kids and all this business. Promised to never step in my neighborhood again, and emptied his pockets on the railroad bed. Said he needed money for his kids' birthday. Sunken cheeks, scarred up face, just a rough looking old man probably in his late 50's. He was breathing and crying so hard, he said he thought he was having a heart attack.

By that time, traffic was stopped up on the main road, where my car was half off the road with the keys in the ignition, and I was worried that somebody was stealing my stuff again, so I had time to think about it and told him to get lostb/c I had toget back up and load everything back into the car. I made it real clear what would happen if he ever stepped into my neighborhood again. After I got back to the car, I got the police out there to filea report, but since I recovered everything, they dropped the ball on the investigation. I'm not real broke up about it anyway, b/c maybe that's what theold skeezer needed - to fear for his life. Spending a night in the slammer or paying a fine is one thing, but genuinely feeling that your life is about to end, thathas a way of changing people.

I've never been that enraged before or after. I reallymay have killed that guy if I knew I wouldn't have caught AIDS for touching him. Crazy. I hope I never get that mad again. I mean, you just walk outside and see your car hanging open with clothes and stuff strewn all through the yard, and you realize that somebody just ripped off your $1000 varmint rig, and a $1000 mountain bike that was my BABY, along with 2 packs filled with every personal item I owned... It just goes through you like a fire. He even had my hockey gloves. What's a ghetto black man gonna do with hockey gloves? Seriously.


Edit: I always tell this story, b/c it illustrates how stealing can evoke acrazy reaction out of the parties involved, even if you're a guy who doesn't have a volatile personality. No matter which end of the theft you're on, you're putting yourself at risk of getting into a really bad situation. Maybe I overreacted at the time, but I know if either of us had a handgun, one of us would probably still be laying in the railroad bed, and the other would probably be sitting in a jail cell. Just something to think about.

I was lucky to be able to look back at the whole situation and get a laugh out of it, but honestly, it was really close to ending really badly.