© 2016 by Marisol Cruz.

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    New wheels / Next chapter

    May 18, 2017

    Despite all the time that has elapsed since my last blog post, I have thought about you (my readers).  Still, I wonder if anyone has been patiently waiting for the next installment. 


    If so, the time has arrived.


    Look, I regret not having written sooner, but one has to have something to say before hitting "publish post."  


    Motorcycle-wise, not much has happened between November and May.


    Well, a lot has happened, but nothing related to motorcycles.


    Nothing related to motorcycles.


    Until now.


    I was riding along 80 in Savannah -- also known as Victory Drive -- on my Honda Rebel 450, and I hit the throttle.  Unfortunately, my machine just did not give me what I needed.


    That's when I knew.  


    Time for a new bike; time for an upgrade.


    I had never experienced such a feeling.


    Last time I had a bike, I sold it because it no longer served its purpose.  


    At the time, I had moved from Harrisonburg, Virginia to Chicago, Illinois.  Having a motorcycle in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley made sense; having a motorcycle in Chicago did not seem wise, nor did it seem practical.   

    The decision was a logical one.


    I sold the bike with little fanfare.  


    This case was different.


    The decision to let my old bike go felt more like when you know it's time to end a relationship.


    The ending approached with sincere conviction.    


    Later, I expressed that thought to the man I am currently seeing.  That man does not ride motorcycles.  He seized my lucid conviction and used it to comb through Craigslist and other "used stuff" sites to find me exactly what I needed. 


    All this... with very little guidance.  


    On April 16th, he sent me a text with a picture of a baby blue bike and its condition.  


    It was exactly what I needed.  


    Not too big, but with more power.


    I drove with him to a gated community in South Carolina to examine his find.

    There, I met ultra cool Abby and her beautifully maintained machine. 


    Abby had suffered a misdiagnosis which ended in a partial amputation to a precious foot.  (Tell me about it!)   


    The 2006 Suzuki s50 Boulevard was her first motorcycle purchase.  It was painfully obvious that she did not want to let it go.  


    In this case, her decision was based on unforeseen circumstances:  an effing tragedy if you ask me.  


    Unfortunately, her bike was not running.  Still, I sat on the bike to see how it felt under the weight of my body.  


    The bike felt right.  


    And, I suppose for Abby, I felt like its rightful new owner because in a few moments, we exchanged information, and without a receipt, I handed her $300 to hold the Suzuki.  


    She agreed to take it the shop to get it in proper running condition.


    Fast forward exactly one month and two-days later:  the bike is ready.



    Now, it's time to decide whether or not I wish to purchase the bike.  


    I head back to South Carolina with cash in hand, and I take one of my airbnb bosses (Daniel) for technical and moral support.  (If Daniel approves, I will buy the bike.)


    Daniel takes it for a ride; then, I do.


    He gives me his blessing.  


    After a photo, some handshakes, a paperwork exchange, an Abby hug followed by some Abby guidance, and a license plate change, the deal is done.  

    Me and the Suzuki head out with Daniel following close behind me.


    I was nervous riding this beast.  

    That's what happens when you transition from a 450 cc to an 800 cc.


    The bike is effing powerful.  


    Nearly double the zoom of my old bike, yet it's not fair to compare the two motorcycles I now own.  


    All I can say is that the Suzuki has exactly what I need.


    In life, it's not always about what you want, sometimes it's about what you need.

    Nearly one-week has passed, and I know that it will soon be time for me to say good-bye to my Honda.


    Soon, it will be time for me to pass on my memories to the next rider.  


    Will I shed tears?  




    I put plenty of miles on that little bike.   


    You have to understand that selling a motorcycle is not just a transaction: it's an emotional exchange.


    It was for Abby, and soon, it will be for me.


    Fortunately, I am old enough to recognize that it's time for the next chapter: the next chapter in my life as a motorcyclist.  

     Until we meet again, my friend. 


    (Thank you to my new, anonymous man; thank you to Abby; thank you to Daniel.  They made this next chapter a reality.)  



























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