Crime Scene and Campground Thieves

The neighbors warned me.

"They're stealing bicycles. Two have gone missing already. Lock yours up!"

I don't own a car, just a bicycle and I don't really get very far on it, but I keep trying.

My shiny red bicycle on a happier day with my
backpack, water and a small bag of garbage dangling
off the handlebars that I planned to drop at the dumpster.
Harley dog rides in the basket up front. He is like my security blanket.

The cable I use to lock it up is heavy duty.  Matter of fact, as the neighbors warned me, mine was already locked to the 8 foot 8 ton picnic table. (At least it feels like 8 tons when one tries to move it.) I figured the thieves would need a dump truck and a crane to lift the picnic table and the bicycle. So I didn't worry.

The next day a friend called me about going out sightseeing. When he drove up in his car, Harley and I went outside to greet him.

The neighbors saw us outside, wandering over to chit chat again.

"They're stealing bicycles again. Three more have gone missing already. That makes five. Lock yours up! Oh and have you heard? Gusty winds of 50 knots are expected this afternoon!"

Gee wiz, my neighbors are just full of cheerful doom and gloom.

I double-checked the heavy locking cable and for good measure I hid my bicycle under a green canvas cover. Maybe it would blend in better with the scenery that way. In view of the possible pending winds, my friend helped me crank in my motorhome's awning and corral my outdoor furniture so that if the gusty winds came, all would be safe.

Harley dog and I piled into my friend's car for a day of sightseeing. Later we wondered if we remembered to lock the motorhome. Kind of like flying off somewhere and wondering if you left the iron still on.

Hours later we approached the campsite. An exhausted doggy was sleeping in my lap as we drove through the campground towards my site.

Harley who is usually all tail wagging and tongue drooling upon approaching his rolling dog house, suddenly woke up and stood on my lap. He just stared ahead stoically, no tail wagging, no drooling.

I began kidding him "What's wrong Harley? All that sightseeing wear you out?"

Then I saw what he saw.

There was the picnic table, the outdoor rugs, the card table the umbrella, the folded chairs.

Underneath the green canvas cover was presumably my shiny red bicycle.

So why was Harley so worried?

Our motorhome was GONE.

It was only 20 years old but it was home, the place where doggy and I eat and sleep, recuperate and recover.

Maybe we forgot to lock it!

I'm too upset to talk about this anymore. Police are interviewing everybody, the TV station crew just wrapped up. We are going to be on the news and I looked awful (but Harley Dawg was cute as can be!)

When I get the TV video and newspaper links, I will post them here.

Someone said we should ask readers to donate one dollar towards purchasing an old used car to live in.

(Tee hee hee! And now for the ultimate in TACKY... You can optionally donate a dollar towards my birthday celebration April 11th, no fooling, it really is April 11th!)

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