Man, let me tell you about what happened to my bike. It wasn’t pretty.
So, I had this motorcycle, right? Not brand new, but I kept it nice. It was my way to clear my head, cruise around a bit. I always tried to park it carefully, tucked away where it wouldn’t bother anyone, hopefully safe.
One evening, I got home late, found my usual spot was taken. Found another spot, maybe not the best, a bit more exposed near the end of the row in the parking lot, but it was late, I was tired. Put the cover on it, locked the steering, thought it’d be alright. Went inside, didn’t think twice about it.
The Next Morning
Woke up the next day, sun shining, felt like a good day for a ride. Grabbed my coffee, headed out. And then I saw it. My stomach just dropped.
The cover was half ripped off, and the bike… it was on its side. Not just tipped over, it looked like something big had hit it. Hard. Like someone backed into it without looking and just drove off. No note, nothing. Just… carnage.
I rushed over. The first thing was just getting it upright. Man, that thing felt heavier than usual, maybe it was the anger, I don’t know. Got it up on its kickstand, which was miraculously okay.
Taking Stock
Then I started looking closer. It was bad. Here’s what I remember seeing:
- The whole right side fairing was cracked and scraped to hell. Big chunks missing.
- Handlebar bent downwards at a weird angle.
- Brake lever snapped clean off.
- Mirror shattered, hanging by a wire.
- Tank had a huge dent in it, paint scraped right off.
- Even the exhaust pipe was crushed inwards a bit.
Just standing there, looking at it, I felt this wave of… well, just frustration. Pure, raw frustration. All that care, gone in a second because someone couldn’t be bothered to look or leave a damn note.
I took some pictures with my phone, mostly for insurance, but also just to document the sheer carelessness of it all. Walked around, looked for any witnesses, any cameras nearby. Nothing. Just me and my wrecked machine.
Had to call a buddy with a truck to help me get it home. Couldn’t even roll it properly, the front wheel felt kinda wonky. We wrestled it onto the truck bed, strapped it down tight. The ride home was quiet. Just staring at the mangled heap in the rearview mirror.
Got it into the garage. Took the cover the rest of the way off. Just stared at it for a long time. The cost to fix… man, it was gonna be more than the bike was even worth. Essentially, it was destroyed. Done.
So yeah. That’s how my motorcycle got destroyed. Not in some blaze of glory on the road, but just sitting there, parked. Some days, you just can’t win, you know? Felt like losing an old friend. Still kinda stings thinking about it.
