The Taylors in Europe

Earlier this evening, Mike came dashing in saying some kid had stolen his bike from the carport and was riding it around behind our house. I ran out to do my cranky old lady routine: "Hey, you kid! Off that bike!" but he was gone. I was pissed, so I grabbed the keys to the car and drove up to the entrance to the neighborhood, hoping to cut off their escape. We saw about 6 kids riding bikes on one of the other streets, and I hollered for the gate guard to call the MPs, who intercepted the kids as they did, in fact, leave the circle.

Naturally, they say they found the bike "lying in the field." Uh huh. Turns out that the kid who was actually riding it got in trouble YESTERDAY for stealing a bike. So we gave our statement, and the MPs wanted to know if I wanted to press charges. Given that we couldn't identify which one actually did the stealing, I said that I would settle for everybody's parents being notified.

So now, naturally, Mike is worried that he's going to get jumped for revenge. I can't say that I blame him. I have had similar thoughts and fears myself. Hell, they know where we live.