Last night I was chilling in my room, relaxing to some music after a long day of work when my roommate busts in without even knocking.  She says, "Johnny! There's a cop outside writing a ticket for your motorcycle!"

I would have gotten up to look out the window, but peeling back the blackout curtains just seemed like way too much effort.  Besides, at this point I'm sure Barney Fife is already set in his ways, and any attempt to talk him out of whatever violation I had apparently committed would most likely be futile.  I shrugged my shoulders and rolled over.

A few hours later I wake up and roll out of bed.  It's the middle of the night, and I head out to the bar across the street for a drink, having completely forgotten about my roommate's news flash a few hours earlier.  As I walked past my bike, I remembered that I was supposed to have a ticket.  Instead of a ticket I find a Louisville Metro Police business card.  It has the officer's name, phone number, and a report number.  I literally stood there scratching my head trying to figure this shit out.  Why would a cop just leave a card and nothing else?  Then I flipped the card over and discover a hand written note on the back:

"Your neighbor intentionally knocked your bike over.  Call me for details.  He was arrested."

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/80959034/

Motherfucker.

In the dark I try to inspect my poor baby for damages.  The brake is slightly bent, a couple of scrapes, but not too bad overall.  I immediately call up the cop to get the low down on what the hell happened...

Some drunk asshole who lives two buildings over from me had been drinking at the same bar I was on my way to that night.  The guy is in his sixties and completely hammered.  At some point, this crusty old alchy son of a bitch gets a wild hair up his ass and decides to kick something, and unfortunately my bike must have fit the bill.  The old fart Jean Claude Van Damme's my bike at the exact moment the squad car turns the corner onto my street.  The cop caught this crazy fuck doing a roundhouse to my bike red handed.  In his own words, it was "perfect timing."

According to the officer, an altercation (i.e. hilarity) ensued.  The old guy, knowing he was busted, tied to flee on foot.  But somehow being old AND drunk simultaneously doesn't really help when trying to evade the po-po on foot.   He was promptly sacked by the officer, cuffed, thrown in the back of his car and taken to jail.  The geriatric evildoer must have already been subdued and placed in the car by the time my roommate had arrived. 

The police report, which should be ready sometime next week, has a laundry list of charges.  Public intoxication, evading an officer, vandalism, and several others.  The cop tells me that I can take an estimate to this guy's arraignment and the judge will make him pay for damages, but I highly doubt this asshole has any cash, or is willing to fork any of it over since he was gracious enough to have no respect for my shit in the first place.

All of that aside, the cool thing about this is that he got busted at the most opportune moment.  A person did something really shitty and immediately got what they deserved.  I may be out some cash in the short term,  and I'm bummed that my bike may have to go to the shop for a little while (in the middle of spring weather!) but man it feels so good knowing that sometimes things just work out the way they're supposed to in this world, fucked up and stupid as it may be.

Thank You, Barney Fife.