The Motorcycle Diaries

Okay, let me start off by saying that this post is going to be totally off topic.  So for those of you who were tuning in for my latest riveting movie review (‘cuz I know there are so many of you…he he he), I apologize.  But, this past week something entirely momentous happened.  My husband let go of his bachelorhood!  I know, we’ve been married for 8 years & together for 11, but he was finally able to let go of his crazy youth (as crazy as a Republican, business & finance major from University of Michigan is ever going to get).  I have to go back a little bit so you get the full effect of how truly momentous this is.  Bear with me….

My hubby has owned a motorcycle for as long as I have known him.  He bought it back in 1994 when he was a single guy & apparently that was the thing to do.  It is what I would call a "crotch-rocket"…basically too fast for its own good.  Evidence of this is the sticker on the side of it that says "Speed kills…but you’ll get there faster."  Now I am not a particularly daring person (read: a chicken-sh#t) & I think that I have ridden the motorcycle twice in those 11 years.  I would rather he not ride the motorcycle either, as I like my hubby in one piece with all of the skin he currently has still on his body.  But I never fought this point, because I didn’t want it to be a bone of contention years down the road.  I could picture the hubby coming home from therapy saying "my therapist believes that all of my issues stem from you not letting me ride my motorcycle!"  Lucky for me the motorcycle has basically not functioned for almost 8 years.  The problem with it was that it was going to cost more to fix it than it was worth.  My hubby could have taken the time to fix (most of) it himself, but he just hasn’t gotten around to it.  He works a lot.  Then we had our son.  Pretty much the rest of his available time after those two things is taken up by sleep (& the occasional date night for my sanity).  Also, for 3 of those 8 years we lived in Minnesota, which basically gave him a 3 month window per year when he could possibly ride it.  And those 3 months are pretty much called mosquito-season.  Have you seen the mosquitoes in Minnesota?!?  If you hit one going 70 mph on a motorcycle you could separate a shoulder.  No kidding.  Small birds would do less damage.  Anyway, I digress (who am I kidding, this whole post is one big digression…is that even a word?). 

And did I mention that my hubby had other things to occupy himself with during this time?  Meet Jessica (after Jessica Rabbit…"she’s not bad, she’s just drawn that way")…the other woman.

Isn’t she pretty?  My hubby always wanted a convertible, so back in 2003 Jessica arrived (btw, my hubby doesn’t really appreciate that I call her Jessica, but I think its just so darn funny).  Any time that he may have been able to devote to the motorcycle was now taken up with babying Jessica.  It takes the man a whole day to clean the car inside & out.  But again, I’m okay with that because it makes him happy.

So basically we have been carting this hunk of metal on 2 wheels around the country, loading it in & out of not one, not two, but THREE moving vans to have it ceremoniously take its place back in the corner of the garage.  The problem came with our most recent move back to Cali.  Let’s just say you can get a lot more house for your money in Northwestern Ohio than in the Los Angeles area.  So when the motorcycle took up a corner in the oversized three-car garage, I barely noticed it.  But now that we have an (undersized) two-car garage (& we whole-heartedly believe in parking both of those cars in the garage…need I remind you about Jessica), well it’s hard not to notice.

Imagine, if you will, being 33-weeks pregnant & shimmying past that everyday to get into your car.  My hubby is lucky I’m tall.

But I’ve done just that, for almost 3 years (not the pregnant part, I’m not an elephant) with very little complaint, because I let it go long ago.  It just wasn’t worth pursuing, because my hubby is very sensitive about the motorcycle.  He would say "it’s worth something, you know" (about $1500 in working-condition) or "I can totally fix that up" (with which I totally agree…but when?) or "you just don’t want me to ride it" (bingo, but again, I’d never say "absolutely no" because of that whole therapy scenario).  But the dissention among the ranks has grown louder over the last little while.  Particularly from my father & my hubby’s mother.  My Dad would jokingly say "just get rid of it, it’s not worth anything" or "you’d have lots of room to get in & out of your car if a certain motorcycle wasn’t there", which of course I would respond by saying "Dad, I’ve let it go, & you can too."  Just as a little aside, I come from parents who are expert purgers (if it has not been used recently then it has no use & should be purged from your presence in whatever way possible) while my hubby comes from a long line of expert pack-rats (if it can be used by you or someone around you in the next 50 years then it should be kept).  But the knife in the heart, as far as my hubby is concerned, has been the comments from his Mom.  She actually said "I think it is time to let it go."   Aaaahhhhhhh!!  My hubby is the Golden Boy, ask his sisters.  He can do very little wrong, especially in the eyes of his Mom.  So this is tantamount to her slapping him upside the head & saying "you idiot, what are you doing?!?"  His response was classic.  He said "my mother never wanted me to have that bike" (read in your best 15-yr old boy voice).

So, two weeks ago my hubby just up & put an ad on craigslist for his bachelorhood, & got a response within 3 hours.  I think he was a bit shocked by it.  I think he thought he would put the ad up & no one would respond & he could say "well, I tried."  But someone was interested, & seriously.  This (wonderful, angel sent from heaven, oops, I mean) man came over on Saturday & bought the motorcycle.  My hubby’s only concern was that he wanted it to go to someone who was going to restore it & enjoy it.  In essence, he wanted it to go to a good home (gotta love how men’s brains work).  So soon the motorcycle will no longer be there, & I will no longer have to shimmy to get into my car.

But even I was a wee-bit saddened by the sight of my hubby sitting on the bike with his racing-gloves on, just having a little moment to himself.  Just he & the bike.  Just he & his bachelorhood.  Just he & his crazy youth.

Incidentally the title of this post, The Motorcycle Diaries, is my attempt to tie this rambling tale of mine back to the topic of this blog, namely the movies.  The Motorcycle Diaries is an incredible movie from a few years back, about a young Che Guevara & a journey he took with his best friend across South America on a motorcycle.  Although I haven’t seen it myself, it get’s a great big stamp of approval from my parents who assure me it is "fantastic."  Check out the trailer below & rent it when you get a chance.  Let me know what you think.

Thanks so much for listening to my rambling story, but like I said it was momentous in this house, so I couldn’t think of anything more fitting to write about this week!!