No, not for me, you big sillies. Don’t I wish!
So, hey, remember how a whole metric fuckton of us went to the bike show, and Deb sat on a YZF? Oh, I just re-read my entries, and it appears that I left that last part out. Well, crap, what good am I? Good thing no one pays for this content.
ANYWAY, Deb sat on a YZF.
And Deb liked the YZF. And as we were milling about discussing said motorcycle, it eventually occurred to my very tiny brain that, hey, isn’t Kim selling hers? Those girls know each other, so they hooked up and talked and emailed … and to make a very long story short, I ended up in San Mateo last night, lying on a very dusty concrete floor under an even dustier YZF600R, doing a mechanical inspection for Deb. Kim kept the bike in immaculate condition, so I was mostly looking for signs of Badness Due To Underuse. Aside from underinflated tires, all was good.
Deb and Ben showed up, they each test rode the YZF, and Deb fell in love. Awwwa! I’d say that the heavens opened upon us, but as Kim’s parking garage really does rain inside, it’s probably better that I keep that metaphor to myself.
Let me tell you, it made my heart absolutely sing to see Deb last night. I love her to death anyway, and it was fantastic to see her excited and bouncy and enthusiastic about her new bike. She’s riding a Buell Blast right now, which she likes, but — psssst — she’s got the bug. She’s got the Bike Bug, bad. She’s gonna hop on that YZF and ride to frickin’ Maine, only stopping once for gas and cheap wine in Nebraska, lemme tell you.
Ooooooh, I can’t wait til I’m back from Wisconsin and can make her go riding with me. Bwa ha ha.