It is the right time to share one story about careless owners of vehicles.
My wife was born in a small village (population 200 or so), that had plenty of life when she was young, but is decaying as the young people fled from there. Many houses where locked when the older people died, the offspring never returned, the house deteriorated, to the point that it was unsafe to live in but the heirs didn't want to spend any money fixing it.
Well, sometimes a wall will fall down, giving you free access to a time machine. Houses that were shut 15 or more years ago and still keep wall calendars, soda bottles etc -normally there is no valuable there, first because there never was, and second because if there was somebody else came in first.
One day I was having a walk through the village and found a fallen wall. It was no house but a farm stable. Peeped into it and saw..... pinball and arcade machines!!! I knew from who that was, a local guy that made fortune in the 80's by buying arcade, pinball and slot machines and renting them to the bars in the surrounding villages. He used the stable as storage room, the machines were never updated and there they rotted. An electro-mechanical pinball was destroyed by the falling ceiling and the rain, and inside, even worst, a vynyl jukebox was rotten by water.
There was a very rare moped, one that I never saw before. I knew it was a matter of time until the teenagers would come in and start to destroy everything for the fun of it. The owner had lunch everyday at the village restaurant, so one day I went in and talked to him. He didn't know me, but just by telling who my parents were he knew who I was -he and my parents were the same generation, it was no coincidence that I met my wife in a village near to my mother's village-. I told them about the stable, it was a long time since he didn't go there but didn't seem to be too sorry. I asked whether he minded if I got an arcade machine, he told me no, a pinball machine, he asked me which one, I told him which one -there was only one-, he told me go get it. I asked him about the moped. He told me no. I told him it was a matter of time until the kids would destroy it, I told him about my intention to restore it. He told me he brought it from Switzerland when he was a migrant and wanted to put it running and give to his kids -he married late-. But I knew him and I knew that would never happen.
So I told about my encounter to my brother-in-law, who lives there, and told me: "You want the moped? Go get it. I know this guy, he couldn't care less. It's simply that he didn't want to give it. He will never know, he never goes there nor does he care about anything inside that stable". That seemed fair to me, so we got my brother-in-law van and went there to pick the moped up.
Being a moped, even with flat tires, was easy to get it rolling from its corner up to the fallen wall. When I was about to lift it to the van, I looked at the crappy moped, looked at my brother in law, looked at me, and thought: "what the heck am I doing here? Stoling a crappy moped whose legitimate owner didn't give to me? If somebody stoles it then so be it, but it would not me. It is his and it is up to him what to do with it". I told my brother-in-law "let's go". "What?", he replied. I explained him my thoughts, and with a gesture of not understanding me, we left empty-handed but with a good lesson learned.
