I love riding around the island on my bike, but I didn’t always have one. I used to waste my money on games and I thought I was really cool. There is a teenager on our road who had a sick CR80 Honda motorbike. I was so jealous of him. One night he left the garage door unlocked. My brain was saying "Go in there. Walk it out. Steal it. Ride it off." I rode off and was shocked by how fast the bike was. I was feeling happy to be riding down the road. The next second I head sirens. I pulled the throttle right back, but my wheel slipped on a drain cover and I skidded on to the road, suddenly surrounded by police. They grabbed my arm and slammed me to the ground. "Is this your bike?" I didn’t answer. They asked me again. "No" I said under my breath. I was dragged to the police van. When we got to the police cell, it was dark and black. There was only a hard bed with a thin mattress and a toilet. The door creaked and slammed shut. I felt gutted and very lonely. Why did I do such a stupid thing?

I sat there, missing my parents. I knew they would be angry and upset. They had always known that I’d wanted that bike. The cell door opened. There was my dad, standing with a policeman. My dad sat down on the bed, “You are very lucky. The guy whose bike you stole isn’t going to press charges. You’re allowed to go home. Remember, if you do something like this again, you could be put in prison for a very long time.” I left prison and felt the wind in my face. I love my freedom.