A guy from the camp hired an R1 for a couple of days (very, very fast bike). All was going well until we were at training and heard a crunching sound come over from where the bikes were parked.
Sure enough, where once there had a stood a sports bike of the highest calibre, there now laid a sports bike of the highest calibre. Having got it back on its wheels the damage was assessed. Luckily enough there wasn't too much 'real' damage. Sure, there were scratches, but all the body work still seemed to be ok.
This meant that later on that day, we were outside his bungalow, black permanent marker in hand, colouring in the scratches so that when we take the bike back, they don't notice it's been dropped.
We only need to fool them for long enough to get his passport back and then we're off.
Here's hoping all those art lessons come in handy. . . of which I've had none!!
Update** The drop off went well. As he pulled up, I turned my bike and waited on the opposite side of the road, engine running. He parked the bad side of the bike close to another and grabbed his passport as soon as it was produced. With minimal of pleasantries he made his way across the street, jumped on my bike and we hastily pulled away.
I was a nerve racking half minute let me tell you, but it worked.
As a great man would say.
I love it when a plan comes together.