Thursday, January 6, 2011

I Don’t Want a Pickle

Post 30
“Hi Mike.” Frank said when I picked up the phone. “There are a couple of nice Suzuki motorcycles that were just traded in at the shop where I deal. Why don’t you go take a look?”
It had been six months since we had spoken about my desire to ride. Frank is a friend with a long memory.  I had filed that desire under “unrealistic” months ago. After all, I did have Parkinson’s.
“Look” Frank said. “It’s October. The dealer won’t want to keep these bikes around all winter. Tell them that I sent you. They will cut you a deal.”
I drove 22 miles to the dealer that day.  I had only a vague idea of what an appropriate motorcycle would be.  Is there such a thing as an appropriate motorcycle? I did, however, know what I was willing to pay for “my indulgence.”
When I arrived, I could see that the dealer had already shifted into winter sales mode. The front of the shop was filled with new snowmobiles. Sitting among the new stock, however, were two shiny, pre-owned Suzuki motorcycles. I dismissed one as being larger than I wanted, as well as being more then I wanted to pay. The other, to quote Goldilocks, “seemed just right.”
Lust burned in my heart. The motorcycle was black and chrome, a low mileage Suzuki VS800GL Intruder. The 805 cubic centimeter, 62 horse power engine seemed powerful enough to get me out of trouble; or, perhaps, to get me deeply into trouble. Really, I was clueless.
I made a deal with the owner. It was then we both realized that I would not be driving the machine off the lot without a motorcycle learner’s permit.
Less than an hour later, I was at the DMV, quickly studying the motorcycle license manual, hoping to pass the permit test that very day.  As I said before, I was clueless.
Tomorrow: Jumping into the deep end, or, “They’ll let me just ride this thing off the lot?”

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