(1) the wisdom of driving a motorcycle equipped with twenty-year-old, visibly-rotted tyres on major thoroughfares on a busy weekend afternoon;
(2) the wisdom of driving a beloved motorcycle, on slightly better tyres, in a torrential downpour on Interstate Superhighways on a busy weekend afternoon;
(3) the wisdom of acquiring antique motorcycles whilst professing to be simplifying life and divesting the unnecessary; and
(4) the wisdom of affecting the use of tyres and whilst in an admittedly-American blog.
Those subjects, m'friends, are right of the table.
But I will share a story.
The Mule and Little Johnny Jewel went into a heavily-treed, heavily-fortified forest of a suburban neighbourhood in search of another Mulecycle. The one instruction from a former owner: change tyres before riding. Our mission? Mount me to the Mulecycle and get me to a service bay.
Not very bright. But I digress into "the wisdom". . . .
Anyway, we pull up in a minivan, me adorned with a fluorescent-yellow, multi-reflectored vest and helmet. I approached the front door of the seller with a jaunty step, just to let the kids at home know I was there.
And a suburban housefrau swooped down on us faster than a Phoenix cop, demanding our papers and wanting to know who we were and why we were there. She allowed as to how we could stand right there until she'd made some calls and established what was what.
You know, Little Johnny Jewel may be a foreigner and all, but I just don't think we looked like burglars, what with the minivan and the fluorescent clown suit, and the knocking.
Now I know how Jose, Juan, and Emil feel.
There are a lotta people just dying to arrest their fellow man.
When the teenage girl of the house came to door, yawningly said "oh, you're here about the motorcycle," and gave the neighbour-lady a scowl and a roll o' the eyes, I realized there are also a lotta people like me who don't like the lotta people just dying to arrest their fellow man.
And yeah, I hate neighbourhood associations too.
Gimme a local shithole house, and I'm happier than living in a street where everyone else monitors me and everyone else.
You know, this post has gone WAY off the rails.
Here's a pic o' Little Johnny Jewel tooling the mean streets of
click photo to enlarge