I was recently diagnosed with lupus and lost my mother in September of the year before from the same disease. My mother had a dream. We were to learn how to ride motorcycles. So my disabled retired husband pushed himself on a roofing job and for my birthday surprised me with a 2004 Harley Davidson, bright bumblebee yellow, limited edition, Buell motorcycle. 983ccs, of brut, hell hath no fury like woman riding, 0-160 mph. Adrenaline, life-saving, purpose-giving, thrill of a lifetime. It was taken the night of my birthday after I had got one ride on it with my husband. Then attempting my first solo ride, I got injured. I hit the corner, 3rd gear 70mph, dumping the bike, breaking off driver side rear side view mirror. Rode it home, just to have it stolen right out of our driveway. The same day that it was gifted to me. It’s been gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. There were many a bloodshed, sweat, and tears into acquiring that bike to fulfill mine, and my deceased mom’s dream of me riding. Not to mention a hot-headed angry pissed off retired, disabled contractor husband who worked so hard, so many arguments as to where he was, what was he doing, to surprise me with such a beautiful bike. My own bike. No one should have taken it from me. My husband worked hard for it. He earned it. He gave me something no one ever has! For some wild thief of the night to come and steal it. If you’ve been thru it. You know that guy wrenching pain followed by the burn up your chest, of loss.