The celebration in the kitchen ended abruptly when the dealer called our house in an absolute panic because the police had arrived at his shop. My wife answered the phone, and her face completely drained of color before I took the receiver from her hand. I told the dealer I had never authorized any
sale and would be driving to Asheville immediately to speak with the authorities. I explained to my relatives the actual value of the motorcycle and pointed out that someone had forged my signature to transfer a title untouched for decades. Leaving my wife crying at the kitchen table, I drove down the interstate toward the mountains feeling a strange sense of relief replacing my initial shock. At the dealership, I met with the owner Marcus Kettering, a county sheriff detective named Nora Faulkner, and a representative from the owners club named Jeffrey Pendleton who had driven from Knoxville to ensure the motorcycle was safe. I inspected the fraudulent bill of sale and title transfer, instantly recognizing that my wife had forged my name. I informed the detective that I wanted to press full criminal charges for fraud and theft, realizing my father had trusted me to protect his legacy at all costs
