An Adventure

Back in 2006, I gave my boy a motorcycle for his birthday.

It was a GSXR 750 with a custom body kit that made it look wild.

Last year, he started riding it to work every day. Sure it used a
whole bunch less gas than a 6 cylinder car, but as a one-off (I had the
body kit imported from the Czech Republic, and as as far as I know,
there are no others like it in the country) it doesn't make for a
sensible commuter option.

One small oopsie would destroy plastic and fibreglass parts that
cannot easily be replaced.

So for 2007, I bought my boy a Ducati 916 for his birthday. No, not a
new one (I'm not made of money) but a very respectable example.

Finally my boy started to agree with me that a big twin is so much
easier and more fun to ride than a four cylinder.

Then he crashed it.

It was a freak low-speed accident involving the nozzle from a fire-
hose from a fire-truck, but managed to put great big dents in both front
and back wheels, and pretty much destroy the plastic bodywork.

An hysterical phone call at 7am is not the sort of thing I like to
hear from my boy, especially when there are lots of police cars and
ambulances involved, and the local radio stations start reporting
motorway on-ramps being closed due to a motorcycle accident.

Fortunately, the worst injury my boy ended up with was a sore foot.

Sure, his helmet was toast and his gloves were ribbons, but the rest
of his leather gear survived with only a few "Marks Of Honour".

Later, he told me that he was glad that he had worn undies that day,
'coz otherwise if he had needed to have the leather pants removed, it
might have been very embarrassing.

It is over 10 years since my boy last had any sort of problem on a
motorbike. Back then, he also did it in style, destroying the bike, and
using his testicles to remove the fuel tank in a manouevre that I prefer
not to think much about.

The amount of damage to the 916 was not great, but when it comes to
having a bike fixed, the cost of the parts adds up pretty quickly, so
the insurance company wrote it off as a waste of effort. A week later,
the insurance company fronted with a cheque for the full amount that I
had paid for the 916 (less a not very big excess).

When my boy could walk again on both feet, he went shopping for a
replacement for his birthday present. Initally he was looking at SPS-
class bikes, but eventually toned his search down to something similar
to the bike that he had just killed.

He found one! A very nice example. Newer, with more carbon-fibre
fruit, even lower mileage and available for the sort of cash that the
insurance company had paid out.

Only problem was, it was in another city, 400 miles away.

Yesterday, my boy rang me at 4:30am to get me to take him to the
airport. His partner and baby were asleep, so I also had to be very
quiet. He's far too cheap to pay for the taxi ride (over an hour) to
the airport, so Dad has to take up the slack. The rude hour is also a
result of being cheap: the intercity flight that he had booked cost him
just US$50.

So I got him on the plane, and worried for the whole day about sending
my boy into an unknown void where anything could happen.

It is the first time that my boy has been on a plane by himself. I
know that you are probably thinking that if he is grown up enough to
have a kid, and to negotiate a long-distance motocycle purchase, then he
should be OK. I guess I should think that too, but it is hard (as a
parent) to not worry about all sorts of fantastic possibilities.

What if the person he has bought the bike from is an axe murderer?

What if he gets lost?

What if the bike breaks down?

To take my mind off thinking about these things, I took my own bike
out for an extended ride with a mate. My boy had promised to call me
from a really nice Cafe that I knew about, about 1/3 of the way home.
He should be there by about lunch-time.

I made it home by 2pm, checked my cell phone and my answering machine,
but no news from the boy, so I called him and left a message "Please
Call Dad".

He did eventually, at about 4:30pm, and still about 2 hours away.

"Yeah Dad, a slight problem, I missed the turn-off you told me about,
but figured it couldn't be too bad. Unfortunately it took me about 100
miles further west than I should have been, and the only way back was on
the nastiest windy road I have ever ridden on. The gas reserve light
came on when I saw a sign that said that the next town was 30 miles
away"

Thankfully, he didn't run out of gas, but only just.

I think I'll need to have words with him about ignoring maps and
directions.

He made it home just before 7 pm, and I went to see him this morning.

The bike he bought is a stunner. A beautiful Ducati 996 with
Termignoni pipes, a Corbin seat, and in beautiful condition. It could
do with an extra tooth on the front sprocket so that he can ride it at
sensible speeds, but apart from that, a wonderful purchase.

I am very proud of my boy for finding the bike, negotiating its
purchase, and bringing it home. He told me that it was going to be an
adventure, and I am very pleased that he survived it.

When I was at his house, several of his mates turned up to see the new
bike. All were impressed. He had woken up early this morning to clean
all of the bugs off, so it was looking fine. The only sign that
something physically demanding had gone down the day before was when he
bent down to check the tire pressure and admitted to all assembled:

"Just look away folks, I can't wear undies today 'coz my arse is so
sore, and I don't want to frighten you with butt-crack".

Scout

On Sun, 10 Feb 2008 17:26:01 +0000, ~kurt wrote:

> Trevor Jones <tjons.DeleteThis@noundies.input.co.nz> wrote:
>> Back in 2006, I gave my boy a motorcycle for his birthday.
>>
>> It was a GSXR 750 with a custom body kit that made it look wild.
>
> You are joking, right?
>
>> So for 2007, I bought my boy a Ducati 916 for his birthday. No, not
>> a
>> new one (I'm not made of money) but a very respectable example.
>
> Really now, you have to be joking?
>
>> Yesterday, my boy rang me at 4:30am to get me to take him to the
>
> Now you are really really joking?
>
>> airport. His partner and baby were asleep, so I also had to be very
>
> Partner? Don't people use the term wife anymore?
>
>> quiet. He's far too cheap to pay for the taxi ride (over an hour) to
>> the airport, so Dad has to take up the slack. The rude hour is also a
>> result of being cheap: the intercity flight that he had booked cost him
>> just US$50.
>
> 4:30 in the morning with no warning - would have just let him walk to
> the airport.
>
>> So I got him on the plane, and worried for the whole day about
>> sending
>> my boy into an unknown void where anything could happen.
>
> What, is he 10?
>
>> It is the first time that my boy has been on a plane by himself. I
>> know that you are probably thinking that if he is grown up enough to
>> have a kid, and to negotiate a long-distance motocycle purchase, then
>> he should be OK. I guess I should think that too, but it is hard (as a
>> parent) to not worry about all sorts of fantastic possibilities.
>
> I'd think he would have been old enough to buy his own bike. This isn't
> rocket science. You talk about him as though he were a 10 year old.
>
>> I am very proud of my boy for finding the bike, negotiating its
>> purchase, and bringing it home. He told me that it was going to be an
>> adventure, and I am very pleased that he survived it.
>
> Really, is this story a joke of some kind, or are you serious?
>

I have this odd feeling that this guy is actually serious...

--
Stephan
1986 Pontiac Fiero GT

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