The bike has been lowered and the damage repaired. My friend overruled my bid to ride it home: “you’re not ready. I’ll ride it for you.” I couldn’t muster an argument.
I followed him in my Jeep, but he quickly pulled out of sight. Hmph. Show-off.
When we got to our destination, he said, “Umm, you’ve bought yourself a hot-rod.”
“Yep. It’ll do 100 before you know it.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
The old hot-rodder in me thought “yippee!” But the self-preservation part of my brain said, “Uh-oh. What have you done?!”
I had to fly out of town for the next 10 days, so I left the bike lonely in the parking lot, but locked and covered it and dreamed of it every night. I was determined to get this right. Eventually.