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Many years ago I had a Virago 920. For those of you not into motorcycles, it's an old Japanese V-twin cruiser. It was a really smooth, comfortable ride and made beautiful music as we cruised around sunny southern Californian canyons, freeways and streets. Not bad looking either. Had a ton of torque. Damn I loved that bike. One day an "uninsured motorist" coming from the opposite direction decided to turn left in front of me and then stop. I laid on the brakes but just caught the rear bumper of his car with my front wheel. The impact was hard enough to bend the triple-clamp on the bike. Now, this bike wasn't worth much to begin with and I didn't have a lot of money back then. "Uninsured motorist" meant that he was in the country illegally and I'd never collect a dime from him. The damage exceeded the value of the bike, and it was no longer roadworthy. So I had no ride, not a lot of money and a bike that would not sell in the classifieds. I did the only thing I could think of: I called a junkyard. Before I could finish explaining what I had, the guy asked me what was the least I would take for the bike. I started to laugh at his arrogance, and then the realization came over me: He knew exactly where I stood and so did I. He was going to hang up if I tried to highball him. I asked for a number that left me nearly sick to my stomach. He took it. To this day I hate that guy, but I totally understand what he was doing and where he was coming from.
I'm not sure that my story relates directly to the subject, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway. Who knows? Maybe you don't have an uncle who talks about bubblegum that nobody even asked about.
I'm not sure that my story relates directly to the subject, but I thought you might enjoy it anyway. Who knows? Maybe you don't have an uncle who talks about bubblegum that nobody even asked about.