alessand Newbie



Join Date: May 2010 Location: South Bay Motorcycles: KTM 1290R Super Duke Name: Alex

Im the Guy They Thought Stole a Hypermotard During a Demo Ride



I decided to write this, because (unbelievably to me – even last weekend at an Infineon track day) there are still people who years later recognize me as the person that was arrested then released for supposedly stealing a Ducati Hypermotard during their demo ride at Alice’s a few years ago:



On this weekend in 2008, like many weekends, I stopped at the country store up at four corners for a snack and something to drink. I was riding my Triumph Daytona. Across the way, I see this gigantic red Ducati trailer up there with “Hypermotard” splashed across the sides and the bike in some cool pose (I don’t think it was Ruben Xaus doing the sliding thumbs up – but it was something serious like that). I asked a fellow rider who happened to be parked next to me what was going on and he said, ‘They’re doing demo rides.” I distinctly remember thinking, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! I really want to try the Hypermotard… my local dealer doesn’t give test rides… I just happened to be at four corners when it’s occurring… I actually get to ride it on fun windy roads… TODAY IS MY LUCKY DAY!!!” (famous last words, of course)



Now I may well be an idiot or moron as some in the gentle world of Barf postings suggested, but I say this episode does not evidence this. I followed exactly the procedure that I had done many times for Triumph and Harley test rides: I gave them my driver’s license information, signed their liability waiver and asked them when I should bring the bike back. What is a ‘group ride’ and why should I have assumed that this wasn’t a typical test ride? I have since been told that what Ducati offers is some weak excuse for a test ride where they line you up in a big group and slowly ride like a procession of posers on Italian motorbike jewelry in a parade. Count me out of that.



Of course, my assumption that Ducati runs its test rides the same as Harley and Triumph would have been easily reversed and the limp Ducati test ride program fully revealed if any of the Ducati personnel had bothered to mention to me how they organize their demos. By Ducati personnel, I’m referring to the 15 year old kid and the woman manning their signup table who were fighting over the last potato chips in the pack rather than insuring the proper completion of liability forms for death or serious injury resulting from motorbike usage.



So I filled out the paperwork, showed them to the potato chip lady and waited for what was next. And waited some more. Finally, I asked her which bike was mine. She gave me a bike number. I asked her when I should bring it back. She said 30 minutes. I said to her, “Oh, that’s great, I’ll make sure I get it back to you by then.” She looked at me with a blend of confusion and disinterest – mostly disinterest. I walked over to the bikes. I noted the bike that had the number she provided me. I looked around for somebody who was going to do the usual rigmarole, ‘Here’s where the starter button is, here’s how you actuate your turning signals….” Nobody came to assist me. Oh well, I thought, the key is in the ignition and I’m sure I can figure the rest out. I turned the key over into the on position – ‘wow, this bike has a clock – this is going to be a piece of cake to get it back in time’, I thought.



Before I turned the starter this fateful thought occurred to me, ‘So Ducati is giving anybody off the street with a basic motorcycle rating the keys to an expensive and fast bike that they have never ridden before, on roads that are demanding for those of us who ride them often and borderline dangerous for newbies, and putting a little kid and a lady in charge who are more interested in eating than running the program – they are CRAZY. Oh well, it is an Italian motorcycle company (I’m Italian-American by the way), I guess they really are that disorganized.’



I put on my helmet and started the bike. I looked around one more time if somebody was going to help me – nothing – so I rode off. During the ride, it is possible that I inadvertently came close to exceeding some of the rules of the road regarding speed. As you know, the digital speedometer on the Hypermotard is quite small and hard to read in bright sunlight ;-) When I reached the fire station on 84, I saw a whole group of police cars at the side of the road and thought – wow, I’d better pay attention, I’d hate to be the guy who they... SIRENS… MEGAPHONE SHOUTING AT ME TO PULL OVER… TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK !!!... HANDCUFFS…STUFFED INTO THE BACK OF THE POLICE CAR



So now I’m sitting in the back of this police car, in full leathers sweating my berries off due to the stifling heat and wrists aching from the handcuffs since my back protector is pushing my arms apart behind me. For those of you who have not been arrested in your leathers, allow me to strongly not recommend it. I’m thinking, ‘Jesus Christ, the police aren’t messing around with traffic tickets any more around here. I need to find some new roads to ride.’ And I was thinking this for quite a while because nobody in law enforcement came over to tell me why they arrested me.



Finally, two guys on Hypermotards pull up with some haste and jump off their bikes. One of them, a tall blonde guy, appears to be shouting. The police listen to him as he rants and raves. A female officer walks over to the patrol vehicle where I’m cuffed. “They say you stole that motorcycle,” My first reaction was to laugh and think, ‘this is great, not only am I not getting a traffic ticket, but once I quickly clear up this misunderstanding, I’ll have a humorous story for my riding buddies.’



I tell the police officer, “That’s funny, this is a just a big misunderstanding. Tell him to check the paperwork at Alice’s. I filled out all the paperwork and they have my driver’s license information. My red Triumph Daytona is parked at the country store up there. This is also so funny because I actually own a Ducati. I brought my key to Ducati island at Laguna. They probably have some record that I own one if they want to check.” Without expression, the female office walked back to the tall blonde guy. He starts shouting again – I can hear that he’s cussing a lot. She walks back over to me. “They said there is no paperwork and that you stole their property and they want to press charges.”



The mental image of the teenager and the woman fighting over a potato chip filled my mind’s eye --- SHIT! Whether I get arrested depends on the competence or honesty of those two clowns! What if they lost my paperwork? What if they thought they lost it, but later found it and don’t want to admit their mistake?? How the heck do I prove I signed something when they don’t give you a copy???



In an attempt to exonerate myself, I described to the officer in extreme minutiae every facet of how I signed the paperwork and what the people at the Ducati table said – I even mentioned the potato chips.



The officers decided that at this point it might be best to have the tall blonde guy from Ducati and I discuss what had occurred. Let me tell you, this guy from Ducati was a meathead of the first magnitude. He’s shouting and cussing up a storm. He says ‘You fucking stole the bike! You didn’t sign shit! You took the bike and rode away. EVERYONE KNOWS IT’S A GROUP RIDE. We jumped on our bikes and couldn’t catch you. You are a fucking bike thief!”



Now what I really wanted to say was, “You little bitch, you work for Ducati and you can’t keep up with a weekend rider like me!” and I think we can all agree, that would have been sweet line to deliver, but a rather Pyrrhic victory given the fact that multiple traffic cops were listening.



Instead, I said, “Dude, what do you mean by a group ride? I’ve done multiple demo rides with Triumphs and Harley. You just sign the paperwork, give them your driver’s license and return the bike in like 30 minutes. So I signed your paperwork. They told me the bike number. They told me to return it in 30 minutes. The key is sitting there in the bike’s ignition. There’s nothing in front of the bike letting me know I should wait. Nobody at Ducati is in the least bit helpful, even though I tried to find someone to help me. I don’t know why I should have thought anything other than it was a normal test ride. Funny enough, I'm actually a registered owner of a Ducati. I have a 2002 Monster S4. Go ahead and look it up.”



Unbelievably, the meathead is not satisfied. We’re toe-to-toe now and he starts cussing at me again; I fire back with some scathing insults because now I’m legitimately pissed. The cops were having none of this and separate us by a quite a few feet. It was clearly time to escalate this with nuclear tactics I try to reserve for arrogant customer service reps who blame you when the problem is their crappy piece of software: I told the meathead guy that I wanted to know his name and title and who he reports to at Ducati because somebody at Ducati should know what sort of incompetent idiot they have working for them. My guess is the that this ultimately saved me from being the proud owner of a criminal record or at least large attorney fees.



The police officers walked us much further apart. One of the police officers spoke with meathead individually, then came to me and said, “He decided he won’t press charges.” I found that pretty insulting – to me, this meant that he was still maintaining I stole their bike. AND when I mentioned to the police officers that if I can’t ride the bike back, then I had no way of getting back to my bike at Alice’s, the meathead said something to the effect of “fuck ‘em, let him walk.” Thanks Ducati. One of the police officers ended up giving me a ride back in her car (and without handcuffs), which was nice of her.



… In the end, I didn’t call and get the meathead in trouble with his boss and I didn’t endeavor to change Ducati corporate policy. But I did buy a brand new red Hypermotard S. Proving two things: it’s a super fun bike and I’m just a sucker for motorcycles!



Cheers and Enjoy the Memorial Day Weekend,

--Alex Hi,I decided to write this, because (unbelievably to me – even last weekend at an Infineon track day) there are still people who years later recognize me as the person that was arrested then released for supposedly stealing a Ducati Hypermotard during their demo ride at Alice’s a few years ago: http://www.bayarearidersforum.com/fo...ati+group+ride On this weekend in 2008, like many weekends, I stopped at the country store up at four corners for a snack and something to drink. I was riding my Triumph Daytona. Across the way, I see this gigantic red Ducati trailer up there with “Hypermotard” splashed across the sides and the bike in some cool pose (I don’t think it was Ruben Xaus doing the sliding thumbs up – but it was something serious like that). I asked a fellow rider who happened to be parked next to me what was going on and he said, ‘They’re doing demo rides.” I distinctly remember thinking, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me! I really want to try the Hypermotard… my local dealer doesn’t give test rides… I just happened to be at four corners when it’s occurring… I actually get to ride it on fun windy roads… TODAY IS MY LUCKY DAY!!!” (famous last words, of course)Now I may well be an idiot or moron as some in the gentle world of Barf postings suggested, but I say this episode does not evidence this. I followed exactly the procedure that I had done many times for Triumph and Harley test rides: I gave them my driver’s license information, signed their liability waiver and asked them when I should bring the bike back. What is a ‘group ride’ and why should I have assumed that this wasn’t a typical test ride? I have since been told that what Ducati offers is some weak excuse for a test ride where they line you up in a big group and slowly ride like a procession of posers on Italian motorbike jewelry in a parade. Count me out of that.Of course, my assumption that Ducati runs its test rides the same as Harley and Triumph would have been easily reversed and the limp Ducati test ride program fully revealed if any of the Ducati personnel had bothered to mention to me how they organize their demos. By Ducati personnel, I’m referring to the 15 year old kid and the woman manning their signup table who were fighting over the last potato chips in the pack rather than insuring the proper completion of liability forms for death or serious injury resulting from motorbike usage.So I filled out the paperwork, showed them to the potato chip lady and waited for what was next. And waited some more. Finally, I asked her which bike was mine. She gave me a bike number. I asked her when I should bring it back. She said 30 minutes. I said to her, “Oh, that’s great, I’ll make sure I get it back to you by then.” She looked at me with a blend of confusion and disinterest – mostly disinterest. I walked over to the bikes. I noted the bike that had the number she provided me. I looked around for somebody who was going to do the usual rigmarole, ‘Here’s where the starter button is, here’s how you actuate your turning signals….” Nobody came to assist me. Oh well, I thought, the key is in the ignition and I’m sure I can figure the rest out. I turned the key over into the on position – ‘wow, this bike has a clock – this is going to be a piece of cake to get it back in time’, I thought.Before I turned the starter this fateful thought occurred to me, ‘So Ducati is giving anybody off the street with a basic motorcycle rating the keys to an expensive and fast bike that they have never ridden before, on roads that are demanding for those of us who ride them often and borderline dangerous for newbies, and putting a little kid and a lady in charge who are more interested in eating than running the program – they are CRAZY. Oh well, it is an Italian motorcycle company (I’m Italian-American by the way), I guess they really are that disorganized.’I put on my helmet and started the bike. I looked around one more time if somebody was going to help me – nothing – so I rode off. During the ride, it is possible that I inadvertently came close to exceeding some of the rules of the road regarding speed. As you know, the digital speedometer on the Hypermotard is quite small and hard to read in bright sunlight ;-) When I reached the fire station on 84, I saw a whole group of police cars at the side of the road and thought – wow, I’d better pay attention, I’d hate to be the guy who they... SIRENS… MEGAPHONE SHOUTING AT ME TO PULL OVER… TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK !!!... HANDCUFFS…STUFFED INTO THE BACK OF THE POLICE CARSo now I’m sitting in the back of this police car, in full leathers sweating my berries off due to the stifling heat and wrists aching from the handcuffs since my back protector is pushing my arms apart behind me. For those of you who have not been arrested in your leathers, allow me to strongly not recommend it. I’m thinking, ‘Jesus Christ, the police aren’t messing around with traffic tickets any more around here. I need to find some new roads to ride.’ And I was thinking this for quite a while because nobody in law enforcement came over to tell me why they arrested me.Finally, two guys on Hypermotards pull up with some haste and jump off their bikes. One of them, a tall blonde guy, appears to be shouting. The police listen to him as he rants and raves. A female officer walks over to the patrol vehicle where I’m cuffed. “They say you stole that motorcycle,” My first reaction was to laugh and think, ‘this is great, not only am I not getting a traffic ticket, but once I quickly clear up this misunderstanding, I’ll have a humorous story for my riding buddies.’I tell the police officer, “That’s funny, this is a just a big misunderstanding. Tell him to check the paperwork at Alice’s. I filled out all the paperwork and they have my driver’s license information. My red Triumph Daytona is parked at the country store up there. This is also so funny because I actually own a Ducati. I brought my key to Ducati island at Laguna. They probably have some record that I own one if they want to check.” Without expression, the female office walked back to the tall blonde guy. He starts shouting again – I can hear that he’s cussing a lot. She walks back over to me. “They said there is no paperwork and that you stole their property and they want to press charges.”The mental image of the teenager and the woman fighting over a potato chip filled my mind’s eye --- SHIT! Whether I get arrested depends on the competence or honesty of those two clowns! What if they lost my paperwork? What if they thought they lost it, but later found it and don’t want to admit their mistake?? How the heck do I prove I signed something when they don’t give you a copy???In an attempt to exonerate myself, I described to the officer in extreme minutiae every facet of how I signed the paperwork and what the people at the Ducati table said – I even mentioned the potato chips.The officers decided that at this point it might be best to have the tall blonde guy from Ducati and I discuss what had occurred. Let me tell you, this guy from Ducati was a meathead of the first magnitude. He’s shouting and cussing up a storm. He says ‘You fucking stole the bike! You didn’t sign shit! You took the bike and rode away. EVERYONE KNOWS IT’S A GROUP RIDE. We jumped on our bikes and couldn’t catch you. You are a fucking bike thief!”Now what I really wanted to say was, “You little bitch, you work for Ducati and you can’t keep up with a weekend rider like me!” and I think we can all agree, that would have been sweet line to deliver, but a rather Pyrrhic victory given the fact that multiple traffic cops were listening.Instead, I said, “Dude, what do you mean by a group ride? I’ve done multiple demo rides with Triumphs and Harley. You just sign the paperwork, give them your driver’s license and return the bike in like 30 minutes. So I signed your paperwork. They told me the bike number. They told me to return it in 30 minutes. The key is sitting there in the bike’s ignition. There’s nothing in front of the bike letting me know I should wait. Nobody at Ducati is in the least bit helpful, even though I tried to find someone to help me. I don’t know why I should have thought anything other than it was a normal test ride. Funny enough, I'm actually a registered owner of a Ducati. I have a 2002 Monster S4. Go ahead and look it up.”Unbelievably, the meathead is not satisfied. We’re toe-to-toe now and he starts cussing at me again; I fire back with some scathing insults because now I’m legitimately pissed. The cops were having none of this and separate us by a quite a few feet. It was clearly time to escalate this with nuclear tactics I try to reserve for arrogant customer service reps who blame you when the problem is their crappy piece of software: I told the meathead guy that I wanted to know his name and title and who he reports to at Ducati because somebody at Ducati should know what sort of incompetent idiot they have working for them. My guess is the that this ultimately saved me from being the proud owner of a criminal record or at least large attorney fees.The police officers walked us much further apart. One of the police officers spoke with meathead individually, then came to me and said, “He decided he won’t press charges.” I found that pretty insulting – to me, this meant that he was still maintaining I stole their bike. AND when I mentioned to the police officers that if I can’t ride the bike back, then I had no way of getting back to my bike at Alice’s, the meathead said something to the effect of “fuck ‘em, let him walk.” Thanks Ducati. One of the police officers ended up giving me a ride back in her car (and without handcuffs), which was nice of her.… In the end, I didn’t call and get the meathead in trouble with his boss and I didn’t endeavor to change Ducati corporate policy. But I did buy a brand new red Hypermotard S. Proving two things: it’s a super fun bike and I’m just a sucker for motorcycles!Cheers and Enjoy the Memorial Day Weekend,--Alex Last edited by alessand; 08-17-2020 at 10:44 AM ..