It was 1999 and almost Spring again, but not yet. I hate this time of year and I don't even own a motorcycle anymore. I saw them though, in ever increasing numbers each day. Riding the twisty turns of Skyline Road up to Alice's where I would squash my face against the glass to see all of the bikes parked in a row. I could name them all by now of course. I usually knew within minutes of seeing a motorcycle, what make and model it was.
I was able to do this mainly because the `crazies' as my girlfriend described it, had fully taken me over. I had a subscription to every motorcycle magazine in the world, an AMA card and just bought a brand new helmet with the idea that a helmet can't just sit there forever. I wanted a bike. I NEEDED a bike. My girlfriend always said that I mixed those up.
She loves to be right!
I hadn't actually owned a motorcycle for nearly 5 years now. Since turning thirty last summer it had seemed that the fever to ride had become worse and worse. It was a craving now. A gnawing that nothing other than riding a motorcycle can cure. I wanted ANYTHING to ride. Especially of all I wanted the prestigious Motorcycle Of The Year, the Honda VFR800. It seemed to be the perfect sport touring motorcycle.
What a sweet ride that bike looked like. I scoured the newspapers, the Cycle Trader. I even turned to the Internet for some respite from my crazies. Dreams filled my evenings, and my evenings filled with dreams. Dreams of carving up and down beautiful canyon roads with the redwoods on either side of me. Rides along the Pacific crossing the Golden Gate with Kris to eat fresh oysters.
She loves oysters!
Oh yeah, I had the crazies bad and no way to relieve them. I HAD to find a motorcycle. I made my poor girlfriend, Kris come with me to every motorcycle shop in a 50 mile radius. I made Kris listen to me talk about these insipid machines day and night and she listened and learned. She spent 10 minutes talking to the biker fueling up at the pump about his K75 and the boxer engine. He'd never, ever sell it he had told her.
She loves to shock people!It had just finished a light rain on Sunday when we went out to lunch. I just knew that I had seen a motorcycle consignment shop down the street from our lunch spot a few weeks earlier so the Sunday was planned out perfect I had thought. We finished lunch and I pointed out that we could just walk down the street to that shop over there. Kris just looked at me like I pulled the worst magic trick in the book. She knew all along she was going with me to the shop, less she suffer my incessant talk about motorcycles all day long. I finally had gotten Kris to agree that a dual purpose bike would be best for `us' the day before.
She loves practicality!
We went in and looked at the sport touring bikes they had. They didn't have anything except an ugly Kawasaki concours and Kris was getting bored. We decided to head home and rent some movies, which reminded me that there is that motorcycle dealer just before you get on the freeway. I promised Kris that they would have coffee.
She loves coffee!
As we approached the dealership it was apparent that the rain clouds might come back. You could see they were pulling the inventory back under the temporary tarps. We got Kris her coffee and walked around the shop, stopping at a pair of used ST1100's. At that moment I'm not sure what happened, it was all kind of a dream to me. I remember Kris stopping and pointing at a silver Ducati ST2 and saying, "I like that one!"
She loves silver!
I laughed and asked if she meant the Ducati. Yes, she says. I laughed again and reminded her that a brand new VFR was much cheaper than that Ducati sitting there looking so sexy. She asks me if the VFR looks as good as that Ducati over there. I have to admit, it doesn't at all. I go over and look at the bike, leaving the two used ST1100's we were looking at.
I check the bike out and find that it is a really nice motorcycle. But it was a Ducati, nobody just goes out and buys a Ducati. Kris then asks me if I have EVER seen a silver Ducati out on the road. Again, I admit that I have never seen anything that looks like this Ducati. She tells me that she knows what women like and that this motorcycle will turn heads.
She loves this bike!
I laugh again, only not so sure of myself this time because Kris really seems to like this motorcycle. She also points out to me that Ducati is doing quite well in the World Super Bike races, a fact that I failed to remember after forcing her to watch Foggy win the week prior on Speedvision. She walks around the bike showing me the aftermarket exhaust pipes and nodding her head with approval.
She loves trumping me with my own hobby!
Kris touches the gas tank with her hand and says, "I'm buying it!"
She loves to get her way!
I look at her and think this must be the crazies again and I must be in a dream ready to go eat oysters. She looks at me with this pouting face and asks me if a Ducati would be OK with me. I'm speechless! I know I have to play this cool. I try and sound casual and tell her that I guess I will `deal' with having a Ducati. She looks at me from the side of her eyes letting me know that I'm not fooling anyone, especially her as she goes to write the check for the silver Ducati. She loves the Ducati but something tells me she kinda likes me too!