A continental shift

When I was younger, I used to ride bikes made in an Asian factory. 

I started riding when I was 17, with a little red Honda CB200.  I thought I was so cool to be riding a motorcycle.  A photo may still exist somewhere of me standing beside it with my (flared) jeans tucked into my surplus-store fleece-lined flying boots.

After a series of bikes from that same country over 10 or more years, I threw a Yamaha 750 down the road under a car coming in the opposite direction.  That did it for me for quite a while. 

Fast-forward another 10 or 12 years.  New family.  Different house (coincidentally, not three kilometres from where I dropped the 750).  Beautiful coast road.  Every weekend we’d see lots of bikes out enjoying that road.  The family got sick of my stock phrase, “Nice day for a ride.”

Father’s Day, September 2001 rolls around and my wife says that she got me a present but left it at Joe’s house.  So we jump into the car and head over to the next suburb.  When we get there, she says, “I think it’s in the garage.  Why don’t you take a look?”

As I entered the garage, she turns on the light, and there in front of me was a 1995 Sportster with forward controls.  For me.

Speaking of coincidences, I'd always been keen on Teal as a great colour for Harleys.  I'd seen it on a few Harleys over the years and loved it, but never mentioned that to anyone.  The Sportster (a surprise present - remember?) was Teal!!

Several years on, she now has her own stock phrase, “I bought you a small Harley because I wasn’t sure you’d like it.  Now look what I’ve created!”

Michael

PS:  My wife originally sourced the Sportster through a friend’s husband, who’d noticed the bike for sale on a noticeboard where he worked.  She asked him to check out the bike and make sure it was the right quality (which it was).  Then she negotiated with the fellow selling the bike over the phone, and never actually met him.

She arranged for the bike to be delivered to Joe’s house, at which point the money would be handed over.  She left the money, thousands of dollars, with Joe to hand over on delivery.

Now Joe, an artistic type, was worried about having all that money, so he hid it – in a little pink clutch purse!  So, the bike is delivered by this stereotypical Harley rider – big, bearded, tattoos.  Joe then says, “Here’s your money”, and hands over this little pink clutch bag dangling from his hand by a dainty little chain.

We heard afterward that Mr Harley Man thought it was all a set-up and was looking for the candid camera.  Wish I’d seen that!