I caught them effortlessly, but I was confused.
“What’s this for?” I asked. They didn’t look like car keys, and I already had my mom’s old car anyway.
My dad nodded toward a dusty tarp in the corner of the garage. It had been there for as long as I could remember, covering up something that I was told not to touch.
When I pulled the tarp off, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was my dad’s old Harley, a ’73 Shovelhead. It was the stuff of my childhood dreams, the bike that had always seemed just out of reach.
All I had wanted to do when I was younger was steal my dad’s leather jacket and sit on the motorcycle. But he always shouted at me whenever I tried to touch it.
“If there’s one scratch on it, Seth,” he would say, “I’ll take all your spending money away.”
That was enough to keep me away from the dream bike.
“You’re giving me the Harley?” I asked, my voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
My father shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“Yeah, why not, son?” he declared. “It hasn’t run in years, to be honest, so good luck with that. Consider it a late birthday gift, Seth.”
I could barely believe it.
I was finally going to ride that bike, and feel the engine roaring beneath me, the wind in my hair. It was going to be everything I had dreamt of and more. I was finally going to be like my dad.
I ran my hand over the cracked leather seat, taking in the gift.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
The moment those keys were in my hand, that motorcycle became my new obsession.
“Jeez, son,” the mechanic said when I took the Harley over in a friend’s old pickup truck. “There’s a lot to be done here. But I can do the big things for you, and you’ll be able to sort out the smaller things if you’re confident enough.”
I saved every penny from my barista role at the café. I was extra polite to all my customers, hoping for large tips, ready to go straight into the motorcycle restoration fund.
Soon, my nights, weekends, and any and all free time I had were spent outside with the motorcycle. I tore it down and put it back together, better than ever, restoring old parts. I watched countless YouTube tutorials and read every manual I could find.
“What are you doing now?” my roommate, Brett, asked when I was hunched over my laptop on the couch.
“I’m looking at forums online for tips about the motorcycle,” I said.
“That’s all you do these days, buddy,” he said, chuckling.
Fourteen months later, the day finally came. I polished the last piece of chrome, stood back, and admired my work. The Harley gleamed under the garage lights, looking like it had just rolled off the assembly line.
“Good job, Seth,” I muttered to myself.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I thought about showing it to my parents, especially my dad. I imagined the pride on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he saw what I’d done.
I hoped that he would finally be proud of something I had done. But nothing prepared me for what was to come next.
I rode it over to my parents’ house, the engine purring beneath my legs like a big cat. As I parked in the driveway, I felt a rush of nerves. I hadn’t felt this anxious since I was waiting for my acceptance letter for college.
“Mom? Dad?” I called, walking into the hallway.
“We’re in the kitchen,” my mom called.
I walked into the kitchen, and there they were. My dad was drinking a cup of tea, and Mom was busy putting together a lasagna.
“I’ve got something to show you!” I said. “It’s outside.”
They followed me outside, their eyes going wide when they saw the motorcycle.
“Oh my gosh, Seth,” my dad exclaimed. “Is that the Harley? My old Harley? She looks beautiful!”
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “I’ve spent the last year working on it. What do you think?”
Before they could answer, my dad moved closer to the motorcycle. His eyes narrowed as he took it in. He ran his hands along the chrome as though he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“You did all this?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I did!” I said, beaming proudly. “Every spare moment and extra cash went into this project. And now she’s perfect.”
For a second, I thought I saw pride flicker in his eyes, but then his expression changed. His face darkened, and I felt something change in me.
“You know, Seth,” he said slowly, “this bike is worth a hell of a lot more now. I think I was too generous when I gave it to you.”
I blinked, not understanding.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
My father cleared his throat, not meeting my eyes.
“I’m going to take it back,” he said, his tone final. “And I’ll give you $1,000 for your trouble.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely containing my anger.
He nodded.
“It’s only fair, Seth.”
I wanted to yell, to tell him how unfair he was being, how much time and money I’d poured into that bike. But I knew that arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. My father was too stubborn.
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you think is fair.”
He looked surprised that I didn’t fight him on it, but I wasn’t done with my revenge. If he wanted to play dirty, then fine. I could play that game too. I just needed to be smarter about it.
A few days later, I saw my father posting on social media about his “newly restored” motorcycle and that he was taking the Harley to an upcoming bike meet with his old biking buddies.
“Now it’s on,” I said to myself.
When the day of the meet arrived, I watched from a distance as my father rolled up on the Harley, looking every bit the proud owner of a beautiful bike. He revved the engine, drawing the attention of everyone in the parking lot.
But what he didn’t know was that I’d made a little modification of my own.
Under the seat, I’d installed a small switch—it was nothing fancy. But it was a precaution in case the Harley was ever stolen. The switch, when accessed, would cut off the fuel line with a quick flick of the remote, which was firmly planted in my hand.
I waited until he was right in the middle of the crowd, basking in the admiration, and then, from a distance, I pressed the button.
The Harley sputtered, the engine dying with a weak cough. Soon, my father’s smug grin disappeared as he tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn’t give.
The murmurs began, making their way through the crowd, and a few of his buddies laughed under their breath.
“Need a hand, Dad?” I asked when I made my way over to him.
He glared at me, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. I knelt down, pretending to fiddle with the bike for a moment before “fixing” the problem by turning off the switch.
The engine roared back to life, but by then, the damage was done.
The look of embarrassment on my dad’s face was worth every second of the work I had put into the Harley.
He handed me the keys, his jaw clenched tightly.
“It’s yours,” he said, walking away.
I smiled, knowing the Harley was mine, and so was my father’s respect, even if he couldn’t say it.
I Came Home to See My Furniture Put up for Grabs — My Ex-husband’s Petty Revenge Backfired Spectacularly
After Brendan, my husband, and I decided to split, he turned into a completely different person overnight. The man I once knew, the one I shared years of my life with, had vanished altogether.
In his place stood someone bitter and spiteful.
A couple arguing | Source: Midjourney
“You’re complaining about how I behave? About how I speak?” Brendan shouted.
“I’m just saying that you need to calm down when you’re talking to me. Screaming won’t make your point come across better,” I said, holding my head.
“Oh, please, Gina,” he bellowed louder. “You made me this way! All of your ridiculous demands and constant whining. Please, just go live your life.”
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
And so I did.
But as the divorce was in process, Brendan and I tried to sort out our things, ready to make a clean break.
“Just let me pack these things up, Gina,” Brendan said one day as he was going through my bookshelf.
“You’ll just take my things with you,” I countered. “I have to settle my own things first.”
“Suit yourself,” he said.
An angry woman standing in front of a bookshelf | Source: Midjourney
But things only got uglier. And the emotional rollercoaster had me in a constant state of nausea and uneasiness. So, I decided that I would spend the weekend at my parents’ house to clear my head.
“Yeah, run away to your parents,” Brendan said snidely as I packed an overnight bag.
“They’re better than you,” I said, walking out the door.
An angry woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
And honestly? It was the right call. I needed space to process everything, including the fact that I was going to be alone for the first time in twelve years. As much as Brendan and I needed to be apart, I couldn’t see my future clearly.
I also just wanted my parents to baby me for the weekend.
“Oh, Gina,” my mother said as she took out a tray of delicious roast lamb. “All you need to do is eat and rest. Whatever you want to eat, just tell me and I’ll make it. And if you want anything from the store, just tell Dad. He’ll do a quick run for you.”
A tray of food | Source: Midjourney
I exhaled slowly. I was exactly where I needed to be.
“Are you sure a divorce is the way to go?” my father asked me over dinner.
“Yes,” I said sadly. “I think that if there was a time to reconcile, it was a long time ago. And we definitely missed it. Brendan and I can’t see eye-to-eye anymore. I don’t think that there’s any more love left.”
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“You do what you need to do, baby,” my mother said. “If your mental health is screaming for a clean break, then that’s exactly what you need to do.”
I allowed myself to take long walks, taking Pippy, my parents’ dog, with me. I just wanted to clear my head and allow myself the space I needed to breathe.
“You’re doing the right thing,” I told myself. “There’s nothing wrong with a fresh start.”
A woman walking a dog | Source: Midjourney
But as I pulled into our driveway on Monday morning, ready to find Brendan and his things gone, I found something even more shocking.
All my furniture, everything that I had collected from before I met Brendan and some things while we were together, was scattered all over the lawn. A large, hand-painted sign that read “Free Stuff!” stood proudly in front of the chaos, inviting anyone passing by to help themselves to my belongings.
Furniture scattered on a lawn | Source: Midjourney
“What the actual hell is this?” I muttered, slamming the car door shut.
This just couldn’t be real. I stared at my coffee table, the couch I found at a flea market, and even my grandmother’s old rocking chair. All of it, just sitting there, baking in the sun, waiting to be snatched by strangers.
I kicked the sign so that it lay flat. And then I pulled out my phone, my hands shaking wildly as I dialed Brendan. The phone rang three times before he finally picked up.
A woman holding a phone and frowning | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, what’s up, Gina?” he answered, his voice casual, almost smug.
“What’s up?” I echoed. “What’s up?”
“Yeah, that’s what I asked,” he said.
“Are you kidding me? Why is all my furniture on the lawn? Are you absolutely out of your mind?”
There was a pause before he replied.
An annoyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“You were going to sue for all my money anyway,” he said. “I heard you on the phone with someone. I know that you wanted everything. Or at least half of everything! So you might as well know how it feels to lose what’s yours.”
I was speechless.
Sure, I had thought about taking him for a ride and having my share of his money, but the weekend away with my parents taught me to just let it go.
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
“You’re absolutely unbelievable,” I finally managed to say. “You think this is going to solve anything? You’re just making things worse for yourself.”
He scoffed loudly.
“Whatever. It’s your problem now. Maybe you should charge people for your things instead of letting them take it for free.”
I wanted to scream, but I knew that it wouldn’t do any good. Brendan had made up his mind, and like any dog with a bone, there was no reasoning with him.
An angry man on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I hung up the phone and looked at objects from my life scattered across the lawn. There was no way that I could haul all the furniture back inside by myself. Defeated and frustrated, I kicked the bedside table that I had gotten and repainted months ago.
As it hit the ground, I heard a jingling noise.
“What now?” I sighed, crouching down to open the drawer.
Hand-painted bedside tables outside | Source: Midjourney
Inside, I found something that made me smirk despite my anger.
“Stupid Brendan,” I said, seeing that he had forgotten to take his things out of the bedside table.
Nestled among the loose change, random pens, and receipts was Brendan’s father’s watch. It was a family heirloom that he loved and cherished and barely wore for fear of losing or breaking it. It had also been passed down through generations, finally landing with Brendan.
A vintage watch | Source: Midjourney
But now, I had it hostage.
“Checkmate,” I said to myself.
I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction as I tucked the watch into my pocket. After all, he was the one who had put it out there for free. I wasn’t stealing anything.
Then, I texted my friend group, asking everyone who was available to come and help me take everything back into the house.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Brendan is the worst, Gina,” my friend, Jenny, said holding a lamp. “This is a new low.”
“Yeah, I agree with you there,” I said. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a way to get back at him.”
I told her all about the watch and how I had it safely tucked away in my car. I knew that it was just a matter of time before Brendan realized that the watch wasn’t with him.
A woman holding a standing lamp | Source: Midjourney
Later that evening, as I was arranging the last of the furniture, my phone buzzed. It was him.
“Hey, Gina,” he said. “I think I might have left something important behind. Can I come by and grab it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box in front of me.
“Please,” he said. “It’s just the bedside tables.”
A box of pizza | Source: Midjourney
“Look, the neighbors came over and took a few things. The bedside tables are gone, too. But if you’re polite enough, I’m sure Cathy will sell it back to you.”
There was a long pause.
“Gina, it’s my dad’s watch. My granddad’s watch. I really need it back.”
I let the silence stretch out for a moment before saying anything.
“I see. Well, like I said, it’s with Cathy. But I’m sure she’ll be reasonable. You know, for the right price.”
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
He knew I was bluffing. I could hear it in his voice. But there was no way that he could prove it, and I wasn’t about to let him off the hook easily. Nope. Brendan needed to fight for it.
“How much?” he asked.
“How much do you think it’s worth?” I asked. “A few hundred dollars, maybe?”
“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just get it back.”
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll do my best, but no promises.”
After hanging up, I held the watch and turned it over in my hands. If we had a son, he would have been handed the watch. But thankfully, we were splitting before we had a chance to think about kids.
The next morning, Brendan showed up while I was sitting on the porch and drinking a cup of coffee.
“Here,” he said, giving me an envelope. “$500. But you know how priceless it is.”
A woman sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
I nodded.
“Thanks. You can leave now,” I said.
“I’ll get in touch with you about the divorce. My lawyer has some things to discuss with us.”
“Cool,” I said simply.
Brendan did a double-take, but he took the watch from me and walked away slowly, almost as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t get the words out.
A man walking down the driveway | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
In-Law Billed Me $695 for Moth Damage after Using My House like a Storage Unit – I Gave Her a Reality Check
For five years, Andy and Sarah had given up their guest bedroom, turning it into a storage room for her parents’ belongings. But once the couple discovered that they were pregnant, they asked the older couple to remove their things, causing unnecessary friction and a surprise reward.
Five years ago, my in-laws just wanted to downsize their house. So, they set out to look for the perfect little house just for the two of them.
“We have too much space and too many things,” my father-in-law, Greg, said.
A cozy living room | Source: Midjourney
So, naturally, they asked if they could store some of their stuff in our house for a while.
“It’s just the things that we want to keep, darling,” Greg told my wife, Sarah.
We both didn’t mind it, and we had a guest room that we didn’t use.
A stack of cardboard boxes | Source: Midjourney
“Sure, Dad,” my wife said. “The guest room is all yours temporarily.”
The key word here is temporarily.
But guess what? They never took their stuff back. Instead, they just kept bringing more.
A growing stack of boxes | Source: Midjourney
For a while, Sarah and I used to joke about the guest room and how it had turned into a storage unit in our own home.
A person using a vacuum cleaner | Source: Midjourney
Read the full story here.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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