I had a Harley stolen from me in Phoenix back in 1974, it's a long story but I'll try to keep it short
Two of us on Harley's were traveling from Michigan to California, Otis was relocating in LA, I was along for the ride, when we developed a problem, I called around and found a local shop (The Parts Bin) that would lend us the tools and sell the parts (front sprocket), we worked on the bike until dark, they invited us to camp in the back and "party" with them, I only had "one" beer, when I woke around noon the next day my head felt like I drank a twelve pack and my bike was gone.
Turns out, we had stumbled upon a "club" known as the "Dirty Dozen" they were "offended" that I was traveling with a black biker and wanted to teach me "a lesson", they did,
don't ever trust someone that calls you "brother"
After that I never let my Harley(s) out of my sight and developed habits I still use today,
at restaurants, park where you can "see" the bike and "request" to be seated accordingly.
Ride a "loop" around the motel if it is at all questionable, (see what the back looks like)
accept only ground floor rooms that you can park in front of and if possible open the window a crack.
With the LT I only use the fork lock and alarm set, the "Sig" under my pillow.
A lot of it is "gut" instinct" if I don't feel comfortable I won't stay,
because I know I won't get any sleep anyway.