In an uncharacteristic move by our Ramblings correspondent, he is reducing his motorcycle collection by one - his girlfriend's 1981 Kawasaki KZ 750G.
I generally try not to make a habit out of complaining about the heat. So much of my mental energy is expended each year scoffing about the painfully cold winters that moaning about a few short weeks of muggy warmth appears unacceptable sheerly out of principle.
Even so, the last few days have been a bit much. Triple-digit temperatures, humidity so high that you can taste the water in the air, and a lack of any form of air conditioning all add up to a formula for disaster. Of course by disaster I am referring to a complete lack of riding time. Riding season in New York is short enough as it is; being forced to sit a week out at the end of July simply doesn't sit well. There was little hope in sight until a passing thundershower blew in late last night, carrying with it slightly lower temperatures but, even more importantly, a dip in humidity.
As any true motorcycle enthusiast would expect, I was forced to play hooky today from the office gig in an effort to make up for lost motorcycle-related time. Although contrary to common assumption, this unexpected day off hasn't found me blasting along the backroads on one of my loyal steeds or throwing roost out along the sandy trails. No, at the risk of ruining my credibility of sounding glamorous, my day has consisted of multiple trips to the local automotive parts store with a shopping list that would have most non-riding members of our society scratching their heads: 180 and 600 grit sandpaper, rubbing compound, metal primer, silicone based lubricant, graphite, chrome cleaner, a can of Ruby Red Pearl, and clear coat. Yes, motivation has struck in the form of restoration, the nearly forgotten art of undoing the effects of the cruel hand of time on a piece of machinery.
Before I get ahead of myself here, a little history lesson is in order. Last month I spent my column space rambling (boasting) about overcoming the odds in securing a rare motocross bike into my proverbial stable in the form of a Cannondale MX440. Breaking one of my own fundamental principles by counting one's chickens before they hatch, my illustrious deal went sour at the last possible minute. I am assuming another potential buyer came along offering more money than I could spare and so the cookie crumbled.
Typically, such failed transactions result in a moment of temporary spending insanity not unlike the poor judgment displayed in a crime-of-passion court trail. Eager to part with my nearly already spent funds, I am often seen scanning the classified ads in these situations with an urgency based on feelings of shock, pain, revenge, and suspended logic.
As you might suspect, such rash purchases are how I've come to acquire countless vehicles I didn't need, barely wanted, and certainly couldn't afford. ATVs, sports cars, bicycles - the list is long. In terms of relationships, I believe this is what experts refer to as "being on the rebound" - the lowering of one's standards in effort to fill the void created by love lost (or something like that).
In a parallel universe Jason is riding around on his newest used bike purchase, a Cannondale MX440. In this reality, however, our Rambling man got squeezed out of the transaction at the last minute.
So in case you find yourself wondering what in the world all of this has to do with my trip to the auto store, allow me to elaborate. It was just about the same time that my MX440 transaction went south that this intense heat wave rolled into town. I don't know about you, but I find it awfully hard to become motivated when even a task as menial as typing a column can cause heatstroke. On account of the locust's buzz, the haze over the fields, and the roar of the window fans in every room, I found myself shying away from the classified ads, the Swap Sheet, and even eBay.
In fact, a most unexpected feeling began to arise: a need to downsize my brood rather than add more vehicles to it. The lucky candidate voted out of the garage, not unlike the weekly loser booted off the island on
Survivor, was my girlfriend's 1981 Kawasaki KZ750G - a bike that had been ridden a total of three times in her (our) nearly two-year stewardship. It was a rash purchase itself, the result of infectious enthusiasm my girlfriend witnessed when I picked up my then-new Yamaha R6. You can almost imagine the reasoning behind it:
"Boy look at how happy that bike made him. I want in on that."
Never mind the fact that she had never ridden a bike a day in her life, we ran out and picked up the well-used Kawasaki with the notion that I would show her the ropes (the bike had crash bars in the event that she wasn't a quick learner). Turns out I'm as good a teacher as she is a student. After two short lessons the mission was aborted and the KZ750 has occupied her mother's garage ever since, gathering dust and spots of rust on its once reflective chrome.
And so it came to pass, as they say in fairy tales, that we agreed the time had come to take out an ad in order to part ways with the Kawasaki. I had decided to give the bike some long overdue attention to detail as a parting gift to its next potential owner, once the heat wave had finally eased up a bit. Thanks to a brief downpour, that day has arrived.
I must confess that I'm finding a great deal of satisfaction on smoothing out the rough spots and bringing reflection back into surfaces long ago dulled, although I can't help but wonder what gems may be lurking in today's paper that would fit perfectly in the corner of the garage where this old bike sits.
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