WARNING: The thread will probably NEVER DIE!!!! You have been warned.
Even though I already have one American bike torn down in my garage, I have been infected by the dreaded Boxer Virus. For months I lurked in dark alleys and websites (including this place), looking for an affordable Airhead to ride while I worked on my water damaged and demoed kitchen/laundry/living room, basket case American motorcycle, closet full of vacuum tube audiophile gear, retaining walls, etc.
Then, the reality of the economy set in and I decided that I could wait for the bike. Any reasonable adult would come to the same conclusion...money needs to go to a kitchen, right? Plus, I already have a scoot that just needs to be built back up and I'll have a ride.....I'm happy.....content......feeling RESPONSIBLE!!!! I am a man and I can change.....if I have to...
Last weekend I headed down to celebrate my mother's 81st birthday in South Central Texas and had a great time. A simple 4 hour trip to and fro guzzling diesel all the way. Happy to be free of the need for another motorcycle.
When I got home I logged on and out of habit checked the RSS feed I set up of every Craigslist in the country for BMW motorcycle listings. I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT....REALLY!!!! It was just out of habit.....REALLY!!!!
Craigslist really should be outlawed. "It is the work of the devil and it should just have it's head peenched off." That's what my aunt Norma would have said.
THAT Listing was the work of Satan as sure as the sun comes up in the West and I can prove it if you will just read on a little further.
It said, and I quote, "BMW 1979 R100 T for sale. Needs an electrical switch and is ready to ride. $1000 Call for details. " I was hooked...I called...it was true and it wuz a bubba on the other end of the line. Conversation went something like,
"what's wrong with it?" Bubba:Gotz a bad relay...my...pa...had ta cum pick me up cuz it won't always start.
Me: It's a long drive to get to you and I have to pick up a trailor before I can even start. You're not gonna sell it out from under me, are ya?"
Bubba: "I'll hold it for you".
So I am off to South Texas and I mean SOUTH...like next to the Gulf south. Like shrimp crossing the road at night south. Now this was the day after Hurricane Gustav had come ashore and every flat footed Louisiana evacuee had decided they was goin back home no matter what every Louisiana radio dj, television anchor, police chief, and political leader was telling them. "Stay away for at least one more day!!!" As far as I could tell not a single evacuee heeded this message and I was stuck in the parking lot of a highway with all of them. A 6 hour trip calculated by GPS turned into 9 hours.
I arrived at Bubba's just at dusk to find several kids waving me down on a beautiful rural country road. I parked the truck and walked down an overgrown driveway at least an 1/8 mile long, past the barking dogs, braying donkeys, failing fence, clucking chickens, and other assorted barnyard critters. But not past the hordes of mosquitos the size of guinea hens. And it is swealtering hot. I never knew that your nose hair can sweat, but believe me, if it gets hot and humid enough, it will.
There before me, stands Bubba and Bubba Sr., in overalls, in front of a shed that is leaning about 25% more northward than any other direction with a shadowing hulk inside. Bubba jr. says he's been in a bad motorcycle wreck on another bike and the doctors didn't expect him to live but he knew he would and his ole lady started stealin from him while he was in the hospital and he thinks he can find the keys and the guy across the pasture runs a meth lab and that's why he got the flock of geese in the back yard cause they can't draw blood but they can peench real hard and they make a lot of noise when the meth guy comes over to steal things out of the house when nobody's there and they found him in a tree surrounded by the geese in a g-string (not the geese...the meth lab guy) and he would'nt come down till they called the geese off cause they peench real hard ya know and I thoght this was the right key and this is the relay that don't work sometimes and the battery don't work but it's ready to go just after you wiggle that relay sometimes and the front tire is old but the rear tire is new and they used to load this bike up and go fishing out on the levies and it'll pull real good if you just wiggle this relay cause he tookit to a mechanic that just Pi$$ed him off so he works on it hisself......
and yes, I do believe he was a frequent customer of that meth lab across the pasture.
So, I have a flock of geese raising an incredible ruckus no more than 10 feet away, a speed freak at extremely close range gabbering at a 100 miles per hour, sweat rolling off every bodily point and down many inward points, mosquitos flying in any and every orifice they can find while Bubba sr. is unhooking the trailor from my truck to bring it down the drive (and I use the term drive loosely) and the sun is almost down and it's getting dark.
I would like to pause here and acknowledge the fact that anyone in their right mind would have not walked, moseyed, sauntered, or strode away but rather would have run like the wind to escape this John Waters inspired death trap of a deal. And I do mean ANYONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND! Have I mentioned the fact that Bubba had also customized this BMW to be like no other. In big, Gold, Stick-on Walmart reflective letters he had immortalized his ride as the "RENEGADE", front and back. In addition he had indelibly put his initials and his ex-ole lady's initials in the Luftmeister Fairing's windshield.....wait for it.....wait for it......with a soldering iron.
As I pushed it out of the shed it became obvious that there were no front brakes, very little in the way of suspension, and yet in the words of Bubba, "It was ready to ride".....
"When's the last time you rode this?"
"No more than a year ago".
Tags show last year of registration is 06'.
Now I like to think that there are times when flocks of raucous geese, babbling meth heads, mosquitos that could win both epe and sabre competitions, lies so bold as to be utterly unbelievable, and shrimp crossing the road at night are signs from God to do something out of your comfort zone. After all, how many of you have heard about Barn Bikes and how many have actually had a chance to buy one.
Pix to come.