The weekend started off well enough, with $40 of cheese from the famous Mercer Cheese Shop. (Aka, heaven on earth. Cumin seed in cheese? I will never be able to enjoy good old Colby cheese again in the same way). So good, we literally parked around the corner and had to sample each of our six cheeses there and then.
Later, we headed around to the corner to the Easter show – neither of us have ever been – where I quickly decided I would not be going on any of the rides (jeez – simply watching them in action nearly gave me heart palpitations; I’m a chickenshit), which left T the choice of going it alone, or skipping the whole thing. (Given the prices, a day at Rainbow’s End is probably better value). Instead, we wandered around the carnival – also a first for both of us – playing silly games…on his first he won me a pink monkey which I carried around for the rest of the evening.
Monday – Anzac Day – the day of remembrance and paying respect to those who lost their lives in war – somebody stole his bike. It could also have happened late on Sunday night. I kind of hope so. Robbing others on Anzac day seems so…unpalatable. Well, theft in general is pretty rotten, but on this particular day?
I have a very strong gut instinct. I know when a potential job is not going to work. I know when a car accident is going to be dealt with swiftly, or spiral into a nightmare. I didn’t have major feelings about this bike either way, but after asking “So, is this…the Skyline of bikes?’ and hearing “Yes”, maybe I should have. He simply does not have the kind of luck to take on a project bike at a bargain, risking leaving it uninsured for a few weeks, and not have things go badly wrong. We both know this and should have paid attention to it – logical or not, things had been going perhaps too smoothly until now.
I’m angry because this was exactly the bike he wanted. Because I’d nagged him to hurry up with the entire process since he bought it, and I feel like maybe, just maybe, if he’d been more organised, it could have been legalled and fully insured by now. As it stood, that was still a week or two away. I’m angry because he worked hard to buy it, and having grown up without much, this was one of the few things he could legitimately call his own. But we’ve been through enough setbacks that by now there really is no point in moping – only getting on with it and forging on. Maybe, as it was such a distinctive bike, it will be recovered. If not, well, we will take the safe route and find one that can be insured on the day of purchase.
Anyway, to all, what, two of my NZ readers? Should you somehow happen to spot a blue/white/black Honda CBR 250RR (1992) with plate 77UYM, a little rough looking with no side fairings and a few spots of rust – or hear it, as it’s it’s rudely, ridiculously loud, email me.