Bike trade

Yesterday I had a post-bday day off. I figured, what the hell, take the Tuesday off. It was Dahlia's 1st birthday yesterday. If there was a chance I could have seen her, I was going to take it. I didn't, but I hung out with her dad at Bertucci's for a while.

So I slept in a bit. Around 10:00 am Skip knocks on my door and says there's a guy out front who's interested in buying my old bike.

I didn't get too ruthless on my birthday, (That was Sunday night at kareoke. Sorry for peeing on your car, Stina) but I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone about bike selling business while standing in my boxers. I told him to get the dude's number.

I got out of bed after a few minutes after realizing it was pretty dumb of me to 1. try to sell a bike that's been sitting in my yard for months and not put a for sale sign on it and 2. wave the first interested person away the minute they ask about it.

So I called the number.

The dude's name? Don King. Awesome.

So he lives on our street. Literally about a hundred yards away. Been there since the 1950's. He tells me he has a mini chopper he might want to trade me for my LS650. Skip and I were going to walk down, but I said we had to drive the bikes. As close as it was, this dude is our best bet for a bike gang leader. He's a retired motorcycle state trooper (Skip: "Oh really? Cool." Don: "Nah that's not cool. I hate cops") who took his Harley when he retired and painted it white.

We drove down the block and parked in his driveway. He came around front and we talked for a good 40 minutes just shooting the shit with this grizzled old road dog. He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet. He told us all the old dirt about the house we live in now. The dude who now drives Acela trains for a living and his hot French wife running around nude with no curtains. Yule Brenner rehearsing in our barn for theater productions around the South shore. The dude who kept corvettes and motorcycles in the basement.

It's cool knowing we're not the only guys on the street with bikes.

We checked out his mini chopper and he finally came around like a kid with the best toy on the block who wants someone to appreciate it as much as he does. We all stared at the chopper for a few minutes and then Don shot me a quick look....

"You wanna have a seat?"
"Yeah, dude"
"You wanna drive it?"
"I'm not gonna pass that up"

So here she is. 100cc's of pure power. It sounds like a weed whacker with wheels.



Here's to you, Don.