Back in 2011 I sold all my bikes, yup, kicked Trigger and Tank to the curb, hung up my helmet and finally, for good, called it quits after 37 years of hammering and at least that many (*cough* more *cough*) bikes. I'm DONE! Finally got my shoulder overhauled, got a lot of range of motion back and the pain is pert near gone. I was thinking this is pretty nice. Cushy chair, getting soft, some movies on the tube, saying "NO!" to my pal's calling for a romp, teasing me cuz it just rained. Hey, I can start saving for my retirement now! Think of all the money I won't be spending on gas, tires, tubes, chains, sprockets, levers, plastic, grips, guards, seat covers, oil, filters, seals, gaskets, pistons, rings, monkey-butt powder and band-aids. Family is thrilled and can breathe again. The boss is too cuz I'm showing up for work again, on time, without twigs hanging out of an eye socket, spooge stains on my tie and with all my fingers pointing the right way, and stuff.
And then, IT, happened. I opened my gear bag.
Then the mental game starts- "I'll just cruise it. I'm old 'n trashed, all done with the tough guy, death march at night stuff. Yup. Juuuust cruise it. And I think I can afford it, I'll make do somehow. Get a big porky bike for sit down lugging around, yyyyeeeh, that'll work. No more 11,000 RPM, flingin' around in the trees on my 125, hanging on by my nails with my eye lids flapping like window shades touching everything on the trail. Mellow out. Juuuust putt. Yup, a big, fat, porky, slow bike. And only ride it once in a while too, that way it lasts. How bad could that be? What could go wrong?"
Then the phone rings, it's the doctor at Realsville: I have a disease and I'm whipping down the river Denial in a blown gas flatbottom with a stuck throttle.
I've tried to fight it. I thought I had it licked this last time. I tried really hard, too. Meetings, more and more meetings. Sponsors. Counseling. A 1-year pin. Going for two, almost there!
Then I cave and make that call to the dealer.
The I see it. Then I smell it. That new bike smell OH NOOOO! Then the Hook gets set and the pen comes out.
I'm so ashamed.
Maybe just one last time, this is it for reals, no more after this one....just.... One Last Time.
My name is Kevin, and I'm a bike-a-holic.
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Took the Queens Shilling and disappeared for 23 Years !!
