One day after work I had to attend a company function and dinner downtown. As I left the event about 10PM, I locked my work backpack into my Givi sidebag and rode out of the multistory parking garage. I wanted to turn left exiting the garage but there was a 6-inch high curb [i]discouraging[/i] left turns. It was late and there was no traffic and I was on the KLR not the WeeStrom so I hopped the curb and went left. A block away I stopped for a red light and motorist came up next to me and told me that my “saddlebag was open”. The backpack was gone! I retraced the block back to the garage but the backpack was nowhere to be found. I spent the next hour checking with every conceivable place the backpack could have been turned in but it was increasingly obvious that whoever had found it had not turned it in. I reported the loss to the police who told me the obvious: the chances of getting it back were somewhere between very slim and none. My work backpack always contains a notebook computer and peripherals. But I had just returned from a week of business travel so the backpack also contained a few extras: an expensive digital camera, a 40 Gb Zune media player, my checkbook and a handheld GPS. Losing a work computer was considered to be a “career limiting move”. I was thankful that the computer had whole-disk encryption so at least the information was protected. On the 25 minute ride home I was mentally composing a to-do list: report the loss of the computer to my boss and corporate security, order a new computer, and restore documents from a backup. What a hassle! Then there was the personal loss of a camera and GPS…and I had to report those checks lost… As I turned into the driveway I opened the garage door with the opener and rode into the garage. There was a black lump on the floor of the garage: my backpack! Ten minutes before my wife was startled by a “scruffy looking kid” knocking on the door. My wife was afraid to open the door and was about to call the cops when she noticed that he was holding my backpack. He was exiting the parking garage right behind me and saw the Givi open up and drop the backpack as I hopped the curb. He recovered the backpack and was planning on chasing after me but didn’t want to hop the curb in his low-rider Honda. So he went through the backpack looking for something that would identify the owner, found my checkbook and spent most of the next hour attempting to find my house! At my wife’s insistence he had left his name and phone number with her. I reached him by phone and he had an interesting story. He was nineteen years old, lived alone, worked fulltime nights and attended school full time at the local community college. He was “seriously into music” and had been really tempted to keep the Zune for he really wanted to buy one but couldn’t afford it. I thanked him profusely for his honesty and promised to “do something nice” to show my appreciation. The following morning I contacted the dean of students at the college and told him that I had something to say about one of his students. He sighed, and resigned himself to hearing yet another tale of some misdeed. He was so startled to hear that I was calling to [i]compliment[/i] a student that he quickly agreed to my suggestion to present a good citizenship award to the student. We settled on the date (three days hence at some previously scheduled event marking the end of the Winter quarter) and I agreed to be there with a brand new 120Gb Zune and an annual “all you can eat” music subscription as a token of my appreciation. Sadly the presentation at the school was not to be. On the appointed day the school was closed by a blizzard (almost never happens in Seattle!). So rather than wait until the school reconvened after winter break I called the young man and agreed to meet him at his place. It was a tiny studio in a blighted neighborhood. It was obvious that he was living paycheck to paycheck. Finding my backpack must have seemed like windfall to him. He [i]almost[/i] held back his tears when he saw his new Zune and music subscription. Some call it Karma; others might say “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, still others might think of it as reaping what you sow. Maybe he just had good parents. Maybe I did too,. [b]From:[/b]
DSN_KLR650@yahoogroups.com [mailto:
DSN_KLR650@yahoogroups.com] [b]On Behalf Of [/b]transalp 1
[b]Sent:[/b] Tuesday, May 04, 2010 11:55
[b]To:[/b] KLR650 list
[b]Subject:[/b] [DSN_KLR650] helping out. NKLR My late cousin told this story: He was on his customized Harley-Davidson Fat Boy cruising home from work when he spotted a car stopped along the side of the road. Being the good guy he was, he stopped to see if he could help. Now Joey was a bit scruffy-looking: ZZ-top beard, old camo ballcap, dirty t-shirt and camp pants were his standard "uniform". As he approached the car, the driver's window rolled down just enough for a near panic stricken lady's voice to holler out, "We don't need any help! We don't need any help!" Stereotypes about "bikers" can be deceiving to the unaware. Joey had the mechanical know-how to fix most anything and would never accept a dime in return. Instead, he shrugged and went on his way a bit disappointed. Once home, he told his story to his wife as they mounted up for a ride into town for a steak dinner. When they arrived at the destination, he discovered she'd forgotten to secure the lid on the backrest bag. In it was another bag containing his work cell phone, a multimeter and other $$ tools. =( They ate dinner and then retraced the route. No luck finding the bag. Home, they decided to call his cell phone. A man answered and explained he'd found the bag with contents undamaged. They met and the fellow refused a reward. Joey did get his address (on the premise of sending a thank you note.) He sent the man an Applebee's restaurant gift certificate. Even though he couldn't help the lady stranded, he at least tried. Karma, good fortune, whatever you call it - the gesture was repaid in kind. =) eddie