Old Biker Kept Breaking Into My Yard To Fix My Fence And I Called The Cops On Him Several Times

I didn’t have money to fix any of it. Every paycheck went to keeping the lights on and food in my kids’ mouths. The fence was the least of my problems. It was ugly and broken, but it wasn’t going to kill us.

Then he started showing up.

I first noticed him in March. A man in his sixties, maybe seventies. Long gray beard. Leather vest with patches. Bandana on his head. He rode an old Harley that rumbled so loud it shook my windows.

He’d park across the street and just stare at my house.

At first I thought he was casing the place. Planning a robbery. I’d heard stories about biker gangs. Seen the news. I kept my doors locked and my phone ready.

Then one Saturday morning, I looked out my kitchen window and saw him in my backyard. On his knees. With tools spread around him. Working on my fence.

I grabbed my phone and called 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

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