The Melancholy of Selling a Motorcycle

It's just a machine. It has no heart, no soul, so why does selling a motorcycle feel somehow like you're selling a friend?

No soul, no heart... just a machine? Can that be? Or, IS there something more?

How can something that lives, so deeply embedded in the soul of a man, Ever Be, merely a machine?

Today I sold the V Star. She'd ridden on this trip, back there on the tail of the fiver, and never hit the ground till we got to Phoenix. Along the way, the wife made the decision that she prefers back seat on the Raider, to riding her own... so... it made no sense to keep on hauling that bike around on the fiver... if she was never gonna get rode.

I figured it would sell fairly easy... I never thought... this easy.

I hung the ad on Craigslist about 2:30 in the afternoon. first call came about 20 minutes later. By a quarter after 5 the cash was in my pocket, the title was signed off, the bike was loaded... and by 5:30, she was trailerin' down the road.

... and there I was... left with this odd sensation... and wondering...

That V Star and I had a lot of good miles together... Lots of good rides. There were a few times I wasn't sure that I had ridden that bike out of what I had got it in to... that maybe there was something else working to keep it up... when it should have low sided... when it should have gone down... and didn't...

Can a motorcycle, truly have no soul?

... I'm not sure I can answer that one the way most folks expect a guy to!

Grab Your Handles and Ride!
Brian

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