So about ten years ago this thing happened which was that I got pregnant with Elder Spawn. She is now nine years old.
At that time I owned a BMW motorcycle and a little Honda Scrambler, both “vintage.”
In motorcycling terms “vintage” can mean “really old and cool” or it can also mean “kind of old and a huge pain in the ass because you have to repair it constantly.” I’d say these bikes could fit both of these meanings comfortably. But I digress.
I also owned a certain amount of cycling gear like a full set of custom Langlitz leathers and such.
I dislike loose ends, and I didn’t want to maintain — expensively, probably — motorcycles that I would not have time to ride, so I sold the whole lot. It was painful, but my life was moving in a different direction and it just didn’t make sense to keep any of it.
So for ten years I’ve been waiting. And when I met The Lovely Rhonda I told her of my motorcycling history, and she was interested in getting motorcycles one day.
And that day has come.
One day recently I found myself driving home and having a conversation with TLR via cellphone about how Gary gets to get a motorcycle and I want a motorcycle and I know it’s still a ways off but I want one now. Whine whine whine.
I didn’t really mean anything by it except that I had a yearning and it was uncomfortable. Like an itch in an embarrassing place, but in my brain.
Gary is a coworker whose wife has given him the green light to buy a motorcycle. They moved here from the East coast and he sold his motorcycle before they moved and now he gets to get a new one. He told me this a couple of weeks ago. And it planted a seed.
So as I wheedled and whined my way home that afternoon TLR said this thing which figuratively speaking stopped me in my tracks: Come home and change clothes and let’s go look at a motorcycle.
It didn’t literally stop me because freeway.
So I put on long pants and my trusty old boots and off we went.