atomsplitter
Living Legend
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2007
- Messages
- 3,555
- Location
- Keller, TX
- Ride
- 23 Rocket GT, 20 Bobber Blk, 22 Speed Triple RS
Because Hanso is such a slave driver I thought I better post up some bit of what I'm working on for Book 2. So here to get the whip off my back is the first page (so far of 10) of Chapter 7, "New Bike Fever."
Every motorcyclist at one time or another, regardless of age, financial acumen, experience, bike preference or spousal consternation will develop an affliction I can only describe as New Bike Fever. It’s an insidious disease that cuts across the denominational divide of motorcyclist preferences. Developing like a kind of moto-Alzheimer’s wherein the rider is reduced in the end to a dribbling pool of salivating lust for a set of shiny new wheels. This affliction starts out as a casual thought, a whimsy, maybe a mere fancy passing across the cortex like a zephyr breeze blowing between your ears. But soon it begins to grow into an idea. The idea rolls and bounces around the cerebrum picking up casual stray musings on type, kind, and accessories, all the while growing, until it is virtually seething, until it is a roiling mass of wants and needs percolating in your brain pan like a tub of bubbling bearing grease. And as the thoughts begin to gain mass they start to gain energy, which accelerates down the slippery slope of imagination into the virtual realm of moto-gee-whizzery of new fangled bits and bobs, farkle and bling your current bike doesn’t have. The idea then takes form; color and shape (usually in the beguiling guise of some ‘brand’) and soon before you even see it coming your thoughts turn to acquisition. When those first inklings of acquisition hit there begin a slow transformation of one’s sanity, happiness and contentedness into irreconcilable depression, whininess, irritation and excuses (usually for the benefit of the consternated spouse) brought about by the lack of a new bike. By this time it can no longer be ignored and has gripped the motorcyclist in a vice of burning insatiable desire. The biker is now in the early stages of New Bike Fever. It is as relentless as it is rapacious. Unfortunately the only known cure for the affliction is the complete liquidation of one’s earthly assets (and conjugal rapport) to scrape together a meager (or scanty (depending on your financial affluence)) down payment (probably on a bike that is marginally better mechanically than the bike you are presently riding). As a renovator of old bikes I can attest to finding perfectly serviceable 25-year-old bikes with less than 13,000 miles on them. Why so few miles? New Bike Fever hit the trail of previous owners. Since I am a motorcyclist and I started this with the absolute of “every” I too have had the affliction (recognition doesn’t mean immunity). My wife recognizes my New Bike Fever immediately because I start begging like a lap dog for what’s on her dinner plate (she insists I act more like a Mississippi leg hound, (then again, she’s always shown an overwhelming proclivity for understatement)).
Every motorcyclist at one time or another, regardless of age, financial acumen, experience, bike preference or spousal consternation will develop an affliction I can only describe as New Bike Fever. It’s an insidious disease that cuts across the denominational divide of motorcyclist preferences. Developing like a kind of moto-Alzheimer’s wherein the rider is reduced in the end to a dribbling pool of salivating lust for a set of shiny new wheels. This affliction starts out as a casual thought, a whimsy, maybe a mere fancy passing across the cortex like a zephyr breeze blowing between your ears. But soon it begins to grow into an idea. The idea rolls and bounces around the cerebrum picking up casual stray musings on type, kind, and accessories, all the while growing, until it is virtually seething, until it is a roiling mass of wants and needs percolating in your brain pan like a tub of bubbling bearing grease. And as the thoughts begin to gain mass they start to gain energy, which accelerates down the slippery slope of imagination into the virtual realm of moto-gee-whizzery of new fangled bits and bobs, farkle and bling your current bike doesn’t have. The idea then takes form; color and shape (usually in the beguiling guise of some ‘brand’) and soon before you even see it coming your thoughts turn to acquisition. When those first inklings of acquisition hit there begin a slow transformation of one’s sanity, happiness and contentedness into irreconcilable depression, whininess, irritation and excuses (usually for the benefit of the consternated spouse) brought about by the lack of a new bike. By this time it can no longer be ignored and has gripped the motorcyclist in a vice of burning insatiable desire. The biker is now in the early stages of New Bike Fever. It is as relentless as it is rapacious. Unfortunately the only known cure for the affliction is the complete liquidation of one’s earthly assets (and conjugal rapport) to scrape together a meager (or scanty (depending on your financial affluence)) down payment (probably on a bike that is marginally better mechanically than the bike you are presently riding). As a renovator of old bikes I can attest to finding perfectly serviceable 25-year-old bikes with less than 13,000 miles on them. Why so few miles? New Bike Fever hit the trail of previous owners. Since I am a motorcyclist and I started this with the absolute of “every” I too have had the affliction (recognition doesn’t mean immunity). My wife recognizes my New Bike Fever immediately because I start begging like a lap dog for what’s on her dinner plate (she insists I act more like a Mississippi leg hound, (then again, she’s always shown an overwhelming proclivity for understatement)).
