She took me directly to the hotel and I checked ............. me in. She stayed in the parking lot. Honest. No sign of my Bro yet, or the Nut Bar for that matter, in person or by way of a message. I stripped down, showered and dressed to do some light riding. I left a note at the front desk for them both and set off to cruise. I drove to the nearest highway and set off. Highway break in is better than the stop and start of the city in the early hours. I was out for over six. Returning to the hotel to find that my brother had arrived.
He fills me in on the details of his journey. Due to the heightened security there were no flights. He did drive all the way, having to swap rentals at the border 'cause they rental he had wasn't permitted to cross into Canada. He traded it in on one that could and carried on. All told, about sixteen hours. By this time it was now pushing nine PM Thursday night. So we walked to a nearby steak house, chowed down and called it a night.
First thing Friday morning, my bro caught a cab to Deeley's. He rented his cycle and we met up back at the hotel. We packed the bikes for the weekend and set out.
Our route took us north, past the cut off east to Whistler, up the Sunshine Coast through Horseshoe Bay, Langdale, Earls Cove, Saltery Bay, Powell River, concluding our first day in the very picturesque Town of Lund. There we stay the night then back track to Powell River in the morning to catch the northern most ferry across The Strait of Georgia to land at Comox on Vancouver Island. From there our choice was a right to Port Hardy at the northern tip of the island or a left and west to Tofino on the Pacific coast.
I had this idea in my head from the beginning, that I needed to baptize the bike with some Pacific Ocean from the most westerly point in Canada that I could find, with the hope that, someday, the same could be done with the Atlantic in the east. Consulting the map, we realize the only substantial north south highway on Vancouver Island is located on the east coast due to the numerous inlets, coves, rivers and lakes along the west coast. Accessing the west coast by heading north was going to take a lot more time than we had available. This pointed us in the direction of a trip south then west, through the Redwood forest, to the Pacific coast of the island.
We set out from Comax south, hanging a right at Parksville, and on to Port Alberni. I will never forget as long as I live, the Redwood forest of Vancouver Island. There was an immense canopy of trees blocking the sun from a clear blue sky, the entire way across the island. And the temperature in among the trees was significantly higher than before we entered in spite of the lack of sunlight. There was a low lying fog hugging the ground cover and the earthy smell of the peat and the humidity of the forest was incredibly pronounced. That's what riding a bike was for. In a car you travel through a scene without the interface. On a bike you are in the scene. Apart of it. And all of your senses are working overtime to take it all in. Absolutely a remarkable experience.
We make the coast just north of Ucluelet and hang a right to Tofino arriving in time for a late lunch in the small harbour town. But first we took the bikes to the Pacific Rim National Park where there was direct access to a boat launch and parking near the water I scooped up a cup full of the pounding surf and flang that wholly water at the gas tank while saying a few words about the life I live, how lucky I am etc. etc. The ceremony behind us, we moved on to flang a few beverages into us.
Later that afternoon we began to retrace our route back through the forest and make the ferry crossing at Nanimo to arrive at our hotel by ten o'clock Saturday night. Still no sign of our third Stooge. Lights out.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
Departure Day - Post 27
I had to travel light. Everything I needed for the next eight days had to pack on the bike. And there was a pile of very heavy leather, a helmet, boots, rain gear, etc. And the most efficient way to transport the boots and the leather was to wear it. All I had as luggage was a Harley bag that was made to strap on the bike behind the back rest. I carried a disposable bag that had miscellaneous stuff, the rain gear etc. that I would dump when I transferred everything to the saddle bags.
I arrived at the airport, on time, the morning of, dressed like Arnold Shwarzenegger in The Terminator. Including the wrap arounds, with my helmet tucked under one arm. Security was a little aghast. Especially in the aftermath of the events of two days ago. Needless to say I was scrutinized rather extensively. Fortunately I had arrived early cause in the end, we departed right on schedule. The first plane out of Toronto following 9/11. And the best part was as the plane started to back away from the terminal I reached down picked up my helmet and put it on my head. That got a few people laughing and we struck up a conversation during the flight where I shared what was really going on with the costume.
Fortunately the helmet was not required. We landed as planned in Vancouver. I took a cab directly to Deeleys. My bike was waiting for me front and center in the parking lot upon arrival. I spied 'er immediately. I went in and introduced myself to Gigi.
You know how you talk to someone on the phone, never having met, and you kinda formulate an image in your mind as to what the caller may look like? This isn't something that just I do right? Well having talked to Gigi a number of times getting the deal done I admit, I contemplated, just once, maybe twice, what she would be like.
The fact that she was in the finance department left me with the impression, likely a middle age accountant type, whatever that is. Wrong. Guess I should have known better cause it is a cycle shop first and foremost. Yikes! I'm a wee bit tongue tied at first greeting cause this gal is a drop dead gorgeous brunette that is every inch a very classy biker babe through and through. I try and stick with the business at hand rather than saying something completely stupid while trying to be cute. Always the better policy when you're not all that suave and debonaire to begin with.
She escorts me outside to make formal introductions between me and my pig. Love at first sight. It takes no more than twenty minutes where by the plates are installed, the standard, newbie overview of facts and features of the bike was concluded and the 1449cc, V-Twin with fuel injection..........fuel injection......... is fired to life. There is not a prettier sound on all of God's green earth. I try and contain my excitement as I began loading my gear while my baby hummed and got to warming up.
As I was ready to mount up, Mr Deeley and a number of the sales and maintenance folks came out to greet, shake hands and congratulate me on my putting it all together. A very kind conclusion to such and epic journey. Harley owners really are a family, or a brotherhood if you will, and they do live that image. So with a promise to return in three days time for the service before heading east to Toronto, I bid a fond fare well. No wheelies. No burnout off the lot. Just a controlled exit with no popping the clutch or stalling. Smooth. We were made for each other.
I arrived at the airport, on time, the morning of, dressed like Arnold Shwarzenegger in The Terminator. Including the wrap arounds, with my helmet tucked under one arm. Security was a little aghast. Especially in the aftermath of the events of two days ago. Needless to say I was scrutinized rather extensively. Fortunately I had arrived early cause in the end, we departed right on schedule. The first plane out of Toronto following 9/11. And the best part was as the plane started to back away from the terminal I reached down picked up my helmet and put it on my head. That got a few people laughing and we struck up a conversation during the flight where I shared what was really going on with the costume.
Fortunately the helmet was not required. We landed as planned in Vancouver. I took a cab directly to Deeleys. My bike was waiting for me front and center in the parking lot upon arrival. I spied 'er immediately. I went in and introduced myself to Gigi.
You know how you talk to someone on the phone, never having met, and you kinda formulate an image in your mind as to what the caller may look like? This isn't something that just I do right? Well having talked to Gigi a number of times getting the deal done I admit, I contemplated, just once, maybe twice, what she would be like.
The fact that she was in the finance department left me with the impression, likely a middle age accountant type, whatever that is. Wrong. Guess I should have known better cause it is a cycle shop first and foremost. Yikes! I'm a wee bit tongue tied at first greeting cause this gal is a drop dead gorgeous brunette that is every inch a very classy biker babe through and through. I try and stick with the business at hand rather than saying something completely stupid while trying to be cute. Always the better policy when you're not all that suave and debonaire to begin with.
She escorts me outside to make formal introductions between me and my pig. Love at first sight. It takes no more than twenty minutes where by the plates are installed, the standard, newbie overview of facts and features of the bike was concluded and the 1449cc, V-Twin with fuel injection..........fuel injection......... is fired to life. There is not a prettier sound on all of God's green earth. I try and contain my excitement as I began loading my gear while my baby hummed and got to warming up.
As I was ready to mount up, Mr Deeley and a number of the sales and maintenance folks came out to greet, shake hands and congratulate me on my putting it all together. A very kind conclusion to such and epic journey. Harley owners really are a family, or a brotherhood if you will, and they do live that image. So with a promise to return in three days time for the service before heading east to Toronto, I bid a fond fare well. No wheelies. No burnout off the lot. Just a controlled exit with no popping the clutch or stalling. Smooth. We were made for each other.
Friday, 29 June 2012
The Aftermath - Post #26
Sir Nut Bar's implications were the simplest. Other than the time he put aside for the trip, not much else would change. He would leave and arrive back later than originally anticipated. But the duration would remain the same. A scheduling issue, nothing more.
The situation for me and my brother was significantly more involved. Even more so for the bro', because the U.S. lock-down would be considerably longer than ours in Canada. He needed to get from San Francisco to Vancouver and, as it turned out, my plane went ahead on schedule. His did not.
He learned quickly that there was no way a plane was to be leaving San Fran on Sept. 13. In fact, I believe it was about a week before the airspace in the U.S. was opened up again. Now, you might think in light of the events the reasonable thing to do would be to stay home and feel OK with that decision. Angel had rather vehemently stressed this option. And she had done so with the possible understanding that the United States would be declaring war with a very nebulous adversary. And my plan was, prior to all this, to bring the bike home through the States.
I had driven the Canadian route in my university years. Been there, done that. What we had planned for this wee adventure called for something completely different. A route through Washington, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming and South Dakota with Yellowstone and Sturgis, South Dakota as highlights on the list. And now I was hearing that Angel felt traveling through the US at this time was likely going to be fraught with unnecessary difficulty. She had suggested that border crossings could only serve to exacerbate the potentially troublesome situation. And with the military, National Guard and/or State Militia's presence everywhere, she envisioned us landing in a whole pile of trouble.
I, on the other hand, believed there couldn't be a safer place in the whole world than America in the immediate aftermath following the big event.
Not that it was a huge point of contention; after all, she did play a giant role in bringing this dream to fruition. But I REALLY wanted to bring the bike back through the States. And in the end I was willing to accept that she had a valid concern and if my plane was to fly, I would bring the bike home while riding within Canada.
Simple enough. Me bro', on the other hand, had a more difficult situation. When he heard my plane was to go, he hadn't yet heard from his wife, who was on business in London at the time. She had tried to reach him on the West Coast but I guess the phone lines were overloaded and she couldn't get through. And he had to make a quick decision. If he was to still participate he was going to have to rent cars and make the drive. And that meant he had to get started immediately if he was to meet the schedule.
At the time of his departure, he hadn't heard for certain that my plane would fly on time. He set out in the rental from San Francisco hoping that I would get away close to the scheduled flight. The drive would take him about 16 hours to do the 1,600 kms. But he would likely need to change rental cars at the border adding time to the overall production. Which in the end, is exactly what happened. So he set out, not having reached his wife and not having confirmed that my plane would leave on time. My travel agent tells me Wednesday to go to the airport, as planned, Thursday morning, expecting to fly. There may be delays, but it is likely that I would get away.
Very optimistic.
The Snag - Post #25
We had set everything in motion. My 'bro was ready to fly from San Fran. His rental hog was all lined up. "NB" had the Bimmer tuned up and ready to fly. I had completed the deal, ownership papers in hand, the Ontario plates secured, packed the luggage, and I was told my baby awaits my arrival at the showroom in Vancouver. Anticipation was reaching a boil.
Then, two days from my departure date for Vancouver, the most unbelievable event unfolds on my computer screen. I was sitting at my desk at work at 8:45 a.m., contemplating the day ahead, wondering what excitement it would bring. The typical daily life of a salesman living the moment on the edge. I just adored that roller coaster ride when the news comes that the deal you've been working on for two years craters and . . . no money from that one! Or, even better, the phone rings and you hear the deal is done and you get to feed the family for the next month. Awesome!
Well, news comes in many forms and on that day a colleague of mine sticks his beak in my office door and says:
"Did you hear what just happened in New York"?
"Ahh . . . there's a lot going on in N.Y. most the time. More specific, please".
"Turn on your computer and get to CNN"
I do.
And I watch over and over again, in utter disbelief as a fully loaded passenger jet flies into the World Trade Center.
Followed by a second.
I must admit, watching the first plane's approach --- and ultimate demise --- I immediately thought in the early moments that it had to be pilot error, or that something was terribly wrong mechanically with the plane to cause this catastrophe. It was simply unfathomably to me that this event could possibly have been willful.
And then then second plane arrives on the scene. And the magnitude of the horror is over whelming. Like they said. That moment changed and redefined the future of the United States forever. Unthinkable how anyone could harbor such hatred of someone else's philosophy or their way of life. I would never be able to grasp the motivation behind such an act. The rest of my morning was spent watching the events unfold on my computer. Eventually I pulled myself away, came home early, got the kids to bed and sat with Angel in front of the TV.
How do you explain that to young kids?
Eventually the two of us had to face this new reality and, on a more mundane level, how it would affect my trip west. At the least, it would likely need to be delayed because all planes in North America were grounded for the immediate future. My plane was scheduled to leave Toronto on Sept. 13 at 6:30 a.m. I contacted my travel agent and she said to stand by but, at the moment it wasn't looking too good to go. Angel suggests that I consider an all-out cancel. Put the bike on a train and ship it. Ouch!!! What an absolutely, unbelievably terrible idea.
But possibly the sensible course of action.
I began looking into the cost of canceling my hotel accommodation in the hope, at that point, it was simply a postponement and not a cancellation.
The Logistics - Post #24
The issue was that I needed to land in Vancouver with the bike signed, sealed and in my name, prior to my arrival because I did not want to have to have to deal with any possible cock-ups that might arise. And the Agreement of Purchase and Sale had to be fully executed in order for that to happen. And the Agreement of P&S had to include the reference to the license plate. And the bike was being purchased in B.C. Which meant B.C. plates. Gigi informs me she would have to put a B.C. plate on the bike, reference it on the documents, and courier me the documents for signature.
Not good. That would have just created additional paper work and additional cost to license twice, because that would require a transfer to Ontario plates upon arrival home. I asked her to consider, instead, sending me all the information on the specific bike, including the VIN number. I would register the bike here in Ontario, buy my Ontario plates and send her the plate information. She could then complete the Agreement of P&S, referencing the Ontario license, and courier them back to me for signature. Not exactly standard procedure, but in the end, she agreed.
With the Acquisition-of-the-Bike part of the deal concluded, it was time to focus on the logistics of getting it home. Two other individuals wanted to be involved in the whole adventure to assist. And neither of them were Angel(s!). She felt the whole idea of an across-the-country purchase was ever so slightly whack. So she opts out. No, it was my brother and the Nut Bar with the Bimmer that wanted in.
Me bro' was living in San Francisco at the time all this came together. He elects to fly to Vancouver, hook up upon my arrival and rent a bike from Deeley. We would then spend a few days putting the required 1,600 kms on my hog traveling around Van, service the bike, i.e. new oil and fluids, before heading home. We needed to plan for a route that was 1,600 kms, round trip from Vancouver, before the first service. For the bro', all this is easy. Fly in. Rent. Ride for three days. Fly out.
The plan for the Nut Bar is a wee bit more complex. He decided he would leave Toronto on his BMW, drive straight to Vancouver with as much 'Non-Stop' as he can handle, meet up with us, possibly in time for as much of the three-day break-in cruise that he can and then, ultimately, escort me home to Toronto. Including the 1,600 kms breaking-in part, that is roughly 10,000 kilometers in 10 days. Now I have always adored long-distance rides, but I told him he's crazed just the same. He insisted that from an Iron Butt point of view, it was "a piece of cake".
The Iron Butt Association. Fifty thousand members world wide. And 50,000 of the toughest riders on the planet, according to their logo on their web site. These folks are extreme when it comes to long-distance endurance riding. I have no idea how long the organization has been in existence. There is little info available. What is available are the rules and regulations associated with earning the accolades from your fellow riders for completing incredibly difficult journeys. If you care for a taste of what these folks are all about you can read more here:
www.ironbutt.com/about/default.cfm
DO NOT try this stuff at home!!! I think you need to be somewhat unhinged to attempt this stuff. I would like to think that they are professionals and therefore completely capable but I'm not so sure. There are no membership fees. There are no prizes. And there are very few rules and regulations. All you have to do to gain entrance to this very exclusive club is prove you met the club's threshold and actually did the ride you claim, supported by gas and mileage receipts. And signed off by independent witnesses at both the Start and Finish Lines. NB had done all his research. He knew all about these folks and was convinced he would fit right in.
Not good. That would have just created additional paper work and additional cost to license twice, because that would require a transfer to Ontario plates upon arrival home. I asked her to consider, instead, sending me all the information on the specific bike, including the VIN number. I would register the bike here in Ontario, buy my Ontario plates and send her the plate information. She could then complete the Agreement of P&S, referencing the Ontario license, and courier them back to me for signature. Not exactly standard procedure, but in the end, she agreed.
With the Acquisition-of-the-Bike part of the deal concluded, it was time to focus on the logistics of getting it home. Two other individuals wanted to be involved in the whole adventure to assist. And neither of them were Angel(s!). She felt the whole idea of an across-the-country purchase was ever so slightly whack. So she opts out. No, it was my brother and the Nut Bar with the Bimmer that wanted in.
Me bro' was living in San Francisco at the time all this came together. He elects to fly to Vancouver, hook up upon my arrival and rent a bike from Deeley. We would then spend a few days putting the required 1,600 kms on my hog traveling around Van, service the bike, i.e. new oil and fluids, before heading home. We needed to plan for a route that was 1,600 kms, round trip from Vancouver, before the first service. For the bro', all this is easy. Fly in. Rent. Ride for three days. Fly out.
The plan for the Nut Bar is a wee bit more complex. He decided he would leave Toronto on his BMW, drive straight to Vancouver with as much 'Non-Stop' as he can handle, meet up with us, possibly in time for as much of the three-day break-in cruise that he can and then, ultimately, escort me home to Toronto. Including the 1,600 kms breaking-in part, that is roughly 10,000 kilometers in 10 days. Now I have always adored long-distance rides, but I told him he's crazed just the same. He insisted that from an Iron Butt point of view, it was "a piece of cake".
The Iron Butt Association. Fifty thousand members world wide. And 50,000 of the toughest riders on the planet, according to their logo on their web site. These folks are extreme when it comes to long-distance endurance riding. I have no idea how long the organization has been in existence. There is little info available. What is available are the rules and regulations associated with earning the accolades from your fellow riders for completing incredibly difficult journeys. If you care for a taste of what these folks are all about you can read more here:
www.ironbutt.com/about/default.cfm
DO NOT try this stuff at home!!! I think you need to be somewhat unhinged to attempt this stuff. I would like to think that they are professionals and therefore completely capable but I'm not so sure. There are no membership fees. There are no prizes. And there are very few rules and regulations. All you have to do to gain entrance to this very exclusive club is prove you met the club's threshold and actually did the ride you claim, supported by gas and mileage receipts. And signed off by independent witnesses at both the Start and Finish Lines. NB had done all his research. He knew all about these folks and was convinced he would fit right in.
The Deal of a Life Time - Post #23
Trevor Deeley, of Deeley Import,s resided in Vancouver, as have his family for many years. He and his papa, Fred, are icons in the motorcycle world. His dad started selling Harleys, imported from Milwaukee, in 1917 making Deeley Imports one of the oldest motorcycle dealerships in the world. In 1973 Trevor was asked by Harley Davidson to become the exclusive distributor for HD in Canada. He accepted. And since that time, every Harley sold in Canada has been brought into the country through Fred Deeley Imports, Vancouver.
What better place to go to get my machine? I phoned him. He didn't answer. Right away that is. After running the gantlet of gate keepers, I was able to convince one of them that my need was absolutely urgent and that nothing less than leaving a direct message for Mr. Deeley on his voice mail would suffice. I am, after all, a salesman.
So the message was left.
"Mr. Deeley, sir. I need to talk to you about purchasing a new Heritage Softail through your Vancouver store. I reside in Toronto. I am 42 years old and I have wanted this bike all my life. The fact that my circumstance has recently afforded me the opportunity to actually proceed with an acquisition, is a bit of a wee miracle. At least in my mind. So here I am. This event is so monumental for me the only way I can put this together that reflects the magnitude of the purchase itself, is to make a deal with you, fly to Vancouver and ride 'er home. Please call me to discuss the possibility when you have the time".
A week later I am sitting at my desk at the office working. The phone rings.
"Hello, Peters speaking".
"Mr. Peters, Trev Deeley calling from Vancouver. I understand from your message you have a very important, life-long dream that needs to be realized. I am returning your call to inform you that there is nothing that we here at Deeley would be more pleased to do than to assist you in making your dream come true. After all, you are a very important person".
"Mr Deeley, sir. Thank you for the kind thought. But I sir, am but a piece of shit. You on the other hand, are a very important person. I thank you so very much for taking the time out of your schedule to return my call.
Not generally the way I would speak on the phone with a 'First Contact'. But we were talking motorcycles here, biker to biker. We discussed the bike. Standard package. He told me the price. I agreed. It's like buying a Ferrari. You don't negotiate the price. He then brought his finance gal, Gigi, on the line to work out the details and, leaving me in good hands, he bids me adieu.
Gigi is fantastic. Pictures of the bike were emailed. Upgrades discussed and agreed to and the final price list is forwarded. The deal was completed that day. The only glitch was getting it inked.
What better place to go to get my machine? I phoned him. He didn't answer. Right away that is. After running the gantlet of gate keepers, I was able to convince one of them that my need was absolutely urgent and that nothing less than leaving a direct message for Mr. Deeley on his voice mail would suffice. I am, after all, a salesman.
So the message was left.
"Mr. Deeley, sir. I need to talk to you about purchasing a new Heritage Softail through your Vancouver store. I reside in Toronto. I am 42 years old and I have wanted this bike all my life. The fact that my circumstance has recently afforded me the opportunity to actually proceed with an acquisition, is a bit of a wee miracle. At least in my mind. So here I am. This event is so monumental for me the only way I can put this together that reflects the magnitude of the purchase itself, is to make a deal with you, fly to Vancouver and ride 'er home. Please call me to discuss the possibility when you have the time".
A week later I am sitting at my desk at the office working. The phone rings.
"Hello, Peters speaking".
"Mr. Peters, Trev Deeley calling from Vancouver. I understand from your message you have a very important, life-long dream that needs to be realized. I am returning your call to inform you that there is nothing that we here at Deeley would be more pleased to do than to assist you in making your dream come true. After all, you are a very important person".
"Mr Deeley, sir. Thank you for the kind thought. But I sir, am but a piece of shit. You on the other hand, are a very important person. I thank you so very much for taking the time out of your schedule to return my call.
Not generally the way I would speak on the phone with a 'First Contact'. But we were talking motorcycles here, biker to biker. We discussed the bike. Standard package. He told me the price. I agreed. It's like buying a Ferrari. You don't negotiate the price. He then brought his finance gal, Gigi, on the line to work out the details and, leaving me in good hands, he bids me adieu.
Gigi is fantastic. Pictures of the bike were emailed. Upgrades discussed and agreed to and the final price list is forwarded. The deal was completed that day. The only glitch was getting it inked.
The Catalyst - Post #22
Oddly enough, about a month earlier, I had been sitting in a restaurant with a colleague of mine, talking about what's next. I told him I was unclear but I sure did love riding. That Angel and I were thinking about heading back to Arizona in the near future. He says, "Why don't you just buy one of your own if you are that committed"? I say it's hard to justify such an expense when faced with all other obligations at the moment. And I don't know if my back would hold up over time. He says get over it and just do it. "Yeah, yeah, easy for you to say, but I doubt I could ever convince Angel on that whole program".
He asks, "What would you buy if you had the chance"? I tell him oh that's easy. There's only one bike in the world worth owning and that's a Harley Davidson Heritage Softail Classic in burgundy red. With fuel injection. Fuel injection. He asks if he was to buy a bike, given my understanding of him and my experience with bikes, would I recommend the same ride for him? I reply without any hesitation "Hell no. You'd kill a Harley in your first year. You demand so much from your machines and equipment, you'd flog the thing to death. You need nothing less than a BMW".
This guy is a completely possessed nut case. (Herein after referred to as "Nut Bar" or "NB" for short). I have never met anyone so driven or overwhelmingly focused on the job at hand. He is completely obsessed with any task he gets his mitts on, to accomplish it in the face of total adversity. This boy needs high performance. Nothing "touring" about him. He needs the Panzer tank of cycles.
And true to form, about four weeks after our lunch, I'm sitting in my living room one Saturday morning, sipping my coffee, reading the morning paper and the dog starts barking her freaking head off in the window, 'cause of some commotion in the driveway. I get up and go to the window and here is the Nut Bar stepping off a brand new, emerald green, BMW RT 1100!!!! The part that is somewhat incredible is that prior to our lunch, (so he tells me later) he had never even thought about riding, let alone buying a bike.
Immediately following our lunch he signed up for the motorcycle licensing course. He completed it in three weeks, bought the bike and showed up in my drive way asking, "Have you got yours yet? C'mon man!! What are you waiting for?? Let's go!! Git 'er done!"
Yikes! How shitty do I feel now?
So with the peer pressure in my face and Angel's big payday, the stage is set, the path is cleared and I boldly set out for where I thought I would never get to go.
But when you have wanted something so badly for most of your life and it suddenly comes to fruition, you can't just walk down to the corner store and pick one out. No siree. This is a massively huge deal. And the actual acquisition has to be as epic as the overall conclusion. I realize very quickly that my next major obstacle will be convincing Angel that this bike needs to be purchased about as far from home as I can possibly get. That way I can fly to her and ride her home. Vancouver should do nicely, me thinks.
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