Monday, May 21, 2007

I Didn't Say A Word...and it Worked

Every day, I either read in the newspaper or see it in traffic -- another motorcycle accident. Today, in the headlines of the local paper....and Friday, on the highway coming in from the airport. Same scene: fire engine lights blazing away, ripped up bike strewn across the road, ambulance loading up the unfortunate biker in no-telling what condition.

I don't get motorcycles. I can't imagine wanting to be moving at very high speeds among other traffic, surrounded by absolutely no protection whatsoever, not even a helmet in many cases. What's wrong with these people?

My husband went through his 'Harley' phase recently. He bought a 100th Anniversary Harley V-Rod in Florida about a year back. I didn't say a word...other than 'don't ride it on the freeway', and 'wear a helmet', and he said 'okay', and followed suit.

He proceeded to own the thing for about year, taking it out on rides less and less frequently as time went by. I didn't say a word.

Further into the year, he took it out so infrequently, the battery was often dead, and he had to jump the thing to get it started. I didn't say a word.

One day, he said, 'you know, I hardly ever ride that thing, and the battery is always dead. Maybe I should sell it.' I didn't say a word.

He put it on the internet, and a buyer appeared in no time. Within a few weeks, the Harley drove away with its new owner on it, along with my worries about having my husband's body parts strewn across the road. And I didn't say a word. (But I could finally breathe again.)

Now it's over, he's happy, I'm happy, and other than the general worries about all the other things that can kill us, things are good. My strategy worked. I didn't say a word and let him come to his own conclusion that the need for a Harley was short lived. If I'd protested, he'd probably still have it.

Now, the Vespa scooter remains, which can be equally dangerous in the wrong setting. I know this, because the first time I drove it, I slammed it into a Jaguar parked across the street and found myself on the ground underneath the car and the bike. Yikes! It actually ended up one of my more humorous tales, as I didn't get hurt (thankfully), and the Vespa didn't get a scratch, but the Jaguar had over $2000 worth of damage. (Hey, that's one tough little Italian scooter.)

At any rate, I vote to keep the Vespa (despite my history on it), because I want to zip around back streets to the beach on it, but I am very glad the Harley rode off into the sunset without my husband on it. And I hope that phase is over for good.

1 comment:

Miss Forthright said...

My best friend was killed in a motorbike crash in 1998. He was only 23. It was his own fault. I was on holiday with him when it happened. Since then I cannot be doing with motorbikes.