It's been nearly two months since i've motorbiked. I don't really miss it.... Yet hardly a day goes by I don't think about it. Is it something like the terribly abused wife who pines over the beating-husband who smacked her around for years before he finally died?
My motor bike died, full ignition discharge in the terminal sense. Pulled the entire works off and gave it a wake... But I think it's spirit may be haunting me, because, even though I have no desire whatsoever to embark on another MB project, I can't stop thinking of the few blissful moments that abusive motor gave me.
Like, after getting smacked around and falling all over myself to make the pissed-off MB happy again, even though it was cheating on me with the Makita (suspected, but not proven) there was so much joy in zooming past the spandex clad roadie taking up the entire winding-mountain-lane-going-12mph, and seeing him snuff the 30mph 2-stroke fumes in my rear-view....but I only remember that, and not the lost motor mount and 3 of 4 studs broken on that ride, requiring a weeks worth of work to ride again.
Oh Oh Oh!!! Remember that time we sailed past countless cars stuck in traffic? All of them headed to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk? Then we zoomed the paved paths to the opposite end of town in mere minutes to picnic at the tide pools of Natural Bridges, then back to see the same stupid-lifted-quad-cab-diesel-pickup hardly get a couple blocks ahead, but still not get a parking spot?? .........Ouch, that cost me. Many many multiple flat tires and dead engine strandings miles from home..... but they mean nothing compared to that picnic at the tide pools!!
Is there something wrong with me? (don't answer that)
I'm trying to move on with my life after that abuser died and left me with nothing. After the enormous time and energy given to it, it just simply left without regard for me.... and yet, I want it back. I find myself desiring no-starts miles from anything. Craving the excitement of blasting past a bus full of almost-high-schoolers, then head-hangingly boarding it a ways down the road with the MB on it's front bikerack. And man, do I long for the entire weekend's worth of work to still not pan out for a Monday ride to work.... There's nothing better than being out in the garage with a 12-pack for hours on end.....ssiiiiiiiigggggghhhhhh...
My motor bike died, full ignition discharge in the terminal sense. Pulled the entire works off and gave it a wake... But I think it's spirit may be haunting me, because, even though I have no desire whatsoever to embark on another MB project, I can't stop thinking of the few blissful moments that abusive motor gave me.
Like, after getting smacked around and falling all over myself to make the pissed-off MB happy again, even though it was cheating on me with the Makita (suspected, but not proven) there was so much joy in zooming past the spandex clad roadie taking up the entire winding-mountain-lane-going-12mph, and seeing him snuff the 30mph 2-stroke fumes in my rear-view....but I only remember that, and not the lost motor mount and 3 of 4 studs broken on that ride, requiring a weeks worth of work to ride again.
Oh Oh Oh!!! Remember that time we sailed past countless cars stuck in traffic? All of them headed to the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk? Then we zoomed the paved paths to the opposite end of town in mere minutes to picnic at the tide pools of Natural Bridges, then back to see the same stupid-lifted-quad-cab-diesel-pickup hardly get a couple blocks ahead, but still not get a parking spot?? .........Ouch, that cost me. Many many multiple flat tires and dead engine strandings miles from home..... but they mean nothing compared to that picnic at the tide pools!!
Is there something wrong with me? (don't answer that)
I'm trying to move on with my life after that abuser died and left me with nothing. After the enormous time and energy given to it, it just simply left without regard for me.... and yet, I want it back. I find myself desiring no-starts miles from anything. Craving the excitement of blasting past a bus full of almost-high-schoolers, then head-hangingly boarding it a ways down the road with the MB on it's front bikerack. And man, do I long for the entire weekend's worth of work to still not pan out for a Monday ride to work.... There's nothing better than being out in the garage with a 12-pack for hours on end.....ssiiiiiiiigggggghhhhhh...
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