I got home from work last week, and I had at least ten people in my backyard. I thought someone had been hurt, and I worried about my wife and kids, until I saw my wife amongst the crowd. They all seemed to be looking at my air conditioning unit. I pulled into the driveway and asked why all these people were standing near my air conditioning unit. My wife told me someone had run into it. I saw definite motorcycle marks leading up to and into the air conditioner. I asked if anyone had heard or seen anything, but no one was speaking. I was getting ready to flash my badge when I remembered I was off duty and at my own home. This was not a crime scene, but it looked like a hit and run. Someone hit my AC unit with their motorcycle and took off. I yelled upstairs and told my daughter to get her butt outside. She walked outside, raised an eyebrow and folded her arms across her middle. I asked if she knew anything about the motorcycle tracks leading to the air conditioning unit? She looked at me and asked if she had a driver’s license, and then reminded me I was a police officer. I wasn’t ready for her sarcasm. I told her she wasn’t allowed to have the hoodlum she called a boyfriend at the house without her mother and I being home. She wanted to know why I thought it was him, and I knew I had seen him slinking out the alley when I was pulling in. She yelled fine while stomping back into the house and screaming at us.