I sold my little green motorcycle today. A bit less money than I wanted--in particular, I found the receipt for the front rotor I let go with the bike and I gave the guy too much of a deal--but it's done with in a ripping-the-bandaid-off kind of way. I sold her because I'm starting to think about a dual-sport; because I want to focus more on my 650; and because the longer I kept the 250, the less it would be worth. Slight irritation about the rotor notwithstanding, I'm okay with letting it go: that bike didn't owe me anything. I put 5000 miles on it, almost all up in the twisties, so however much I lost on the ownership, I did get at least that much in fun. Plus, I got a story out of it:
The guy, not yet licensed, came down from SF, bringing a friend who knows a lot about bikes. After inspection, the buyer showed me the cash and handed me the key to his Saab while the friend took the bike for a quick test ride (I suggested going around the rotary and out a residential road where there's a nice S-curve). The buyer and I wait...five minutes, ten, fifteen. Has it been twenty already? Maybe he got lost. The buyer is a mid-20s animator from Connecticut, but small talk runs out fast.
Finally the friend returned. He didn't get lost, he got pulled over for going through a stop sign--he'd been paying attention to the motorcycle and not the surroundings. Naturally he left his license in the car, and doesn't have the registration for the bike he doesn't own, and the cop is spelling his name wrong and can't bring up the information, but being one "E" off, pulls up another guy in SF with a similar name, but who doesn't have an M1 endorsement and whose license is expired. This necessitates and second police cruiser, because Now There Is A Problem, and cop #2 says "Okay, now's the time to stop lying, after this it gets problematic". The friend protests that he's not lying, they're just looking up his name wrong. (The friend has brown skin, but reports the Redwood City police were quite friendly and polite, which I was glad to hear.) Eventually they got everything sorted out, and he took his ticket and was on his way.
The final step was for the friend to take the buyer around the circle as a passenger, to feel the difference between the other bike he's been on. I gave them back the Saab key so they could get the buyer's helmet out of the car. The buyer said, "Oh, do you want to hold the money?".
"Nah," I said. "The cops just ticketed your friend here. If you run off with the bike, it'll be a pretty short investigation."
In other news, readers will no doubt be shocked to hear that on encountering a woman who not only really likes me, but is as smart as me, I am almost constantly confused.