After more than four years in our 3200 square foot monster home, St. Eva the Good and I are moving to smaller digs. Just 1700 square feet of living space in a community called Village by the Lake in Southern Pines, NC. This place is is for "old people." In fact the rules and regs of the condo association prohibit "young ins" and a few other things: pickup trucks ( no biggie there) and....motorcycles (Groan!!) For forty years I waited to buy my cycle and now it is unwelcome in the community into which I am moving. This is a real dilemma.
A friend of mine said, "Gee, moving into a community that bans bikes may have saved your life!" Thanks, Bob. You are no help. For the moment, I am leaving Big Red here at the house. Gordo and his wife Karen will be renting our old home for a while. But I will have to drive 6 miles in my van to pick up my bike to drive the 8 miles to the office, which, I guess, makes no sense. So that leaves me just a few riding opportunities each week. It's killing me.
Bikers are a strange lot. They are cultically devoted to their mechanical steeds. It is like we are members of the Church of Harley. There are rituals: When bikers pass each other, they always give a left handed, low wave. It is a way of saying, "Be safe, Brother." Just like at Mass...a mobile "sign of peace." And of course, there are special vestments and rubrics. Leather, wallet chains, doo rags, boots and vests figure prominently in the Church of Harley liturgical garb. And lets not forget the fellowship meal. No wine is served in the Church of Harley, but capacious amounts of Budweiser and burgers are consumed in convivial fellowship, when bikers gather.
And so I am agonizing over this. Our maintenance man at church is currently building his own Harley. When I told of my situation, he exclaimed, "Hell (he is Protestant, you see,) I'd sooner give up my wife than my bike!! HMMMMMMMMM. Big Red or St. Eva the Good... Oh, Hell..."Bye bye, Big Red."