"Hey Get away from my bike!"

So this morning, my dad looks out the window and realizes we're missing a bike. Mom remembers picking Weston up Thursday after school so he could get home in time for gramps to pick him up. She didn't remember if he brought his bike. So they get in their running shoes and run down to the school. If it is there, it would have been there, for two-three days.

From a distance, they can see 3-4 teenagers in the bike rack pen (it's completely surrounded with a high fence) hovering over a bike. So they hightail it to the bike rake, realizing it's Weston's, and Dad screams at them " Hey! Get away from my bike". Course they scatter real fast. Never to be seen again.

Dad stays with the bike while mom ran all the way home to pick up the bike lock key. (This is when i found out what was going on. I wake up, drowsy from the party last night, from dad calling me on his cell to search Wes's backpack for the key) Mom picks it up, hops on another bike, and meets dad with the key.

Turns out while mom was gone, another teenager rode his bike to the bike rack, hops off, then realizes someone else, (not his buddies) was with the bike. He runs out and scatters.
So mom and dad unlock Wes's bike, ride out to the front of the school and passes this beat up, rusty old car-parked- and filled with two very rough looking Mexicans on cell phones. Dad's theory is that the first teenagers were interested in the bike for parts and such, called their buddies to bring tools to break the lock with. It was like a bunch of vultures swarming in on the prey, which by the way, can be purchased for a grand total of $40 at Wal-Mart.

Weston will be recieving a lecture on responsibility just as soon as daddy get's home from his call out. :) perhaps another week in which i don't have to worry about dishes.