Pity party is officially over. 24-hour time limit. No more of this for me:
I'll admit I did feel heavy of heart today, but nothing a nice long nap wouldn't have cured. That's big talk, for an insomniac.
We are otherwise not ones to sit on our laurels in a face of crisis. My sister and her husband have spent the day reinforcing and fixing broken locks and doors that we could only rig back together yesterday. They've done everything short of:
My father was a Harley Rider. Several have asked, so I will volunteer: No, thank God, it was not his bike that was lost. It is safely stored away.
But I have called on a loyal Biker Community. I sent notices to anyone I knew with a motorcycle, Harley or otherwise. I e-mailed businesses and all of the clubs my father belonged to.
In 24 hours time, around 200 have received the message. Some responded that they'd forwarded to 20 or more. Some sent suggestions for other avenues to pursue (thanks, Matt). A high school friend forwarded names of other bikers to contact.
Melissa even offered to sit take the midnight shift on mother's porch, aiming a shotgun at the genitalia of all trespassers. Friends like that don't come along every day. Sniff. Pass me a kleenex.
So many more of you have called, commented, and e-mailed to offer your support, and to say "that sucks."
Seriously. What would I do without you all?
I know not if any of this is networking will be worthwhile, in terms of recovering our stolen goods.
But it feels better to do *something,* and so many have responded to my shout out.
Thank you. I'll keep you posted.