Earlier that afternoon, Joseph (not a very stereotypical name) had spotted the CBR125 and after a quick glance, found that it was poorly protected.
He picked me up later that night on his own bike and drove me to the site.
It was a beautiful black beastly machine.
As I was fawning over the motorcycle Joe had already hopped off his bike and was breaking the lock on the CBR and shimmying the key. He was done in a flash.
My heart beat out of my chest speeding down the road.
I took like 4 wrong turns in the heat of the moment, I couldn’t think straight but by god it was thrilling.
I made it to the location where my bike was parked and dropped off the CBR.
Got some nice coin, but it was the thrill that hooked me and caused the addiction.
I kept an eye out on the news for the next couple of days but didn’t hear anything.
A weird, electrifying feeling pulsed through my body every time I turned on the news, I thought for sure my face would appear. But there was nothing.