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\r\nTwo miles on it. Two. Not even yet registered. No saddlebags, but the truth is, those plastic crates look like they’d crack like an eggshell. This is how I think since breaking the brake on the Kawasaki Eliminator 125cc bike handle on the class range.\r\n\r\nSo, the guy selling it lives in Jupiter, FL. That’s about an hour away. My husband (Jay), a rider for over three decades, is torn. He says it’s my decision whether I learn to ride, but deep down, this rather stoic man is gleeful with the hope that I’ll figure this out one day and ride off into the sunset with him.\r\n\r\nHe showed me the ad. Here’s the thing that really put him over the edge. The current bid on the bike was $1200. No reserve. By the way, Jay’s a power buyer. Not that he buys so much, but he virtually never loses. He’s a tenacious bulldog when he wants to win a bargain. Goes into Zen mode.\r\n\r\nIt was going to expire at 9 pm. He called the buyer in the afternoon so we could, yet again, run around to see a bike, never mind that I still cannot ride a bicycle to the right. But a combination of a rash on his hand (He was even going to wait until Monday to see the doctor about the rash.), a thunderstorm from hell, my best friend (Laura) saying, “don’t do it. This is a big mistake. Just wait til you CAN ride…,” and, oh, the fact that I had to work, finally gave me the courage to say, “NO means no.” \r\n\r\nSo I told him his health was more important (truly, my friend scared the heck out of me), oh, and the fact that I had to work. He is fine, by the way. The doctor said, “It’s a rash” and gave him some cream for his hands.\r\n\r\nRound about 8:15, he was intently staring at the computer screen. Why? The Pag. The shiny black, gleaming motorcycle, now at $1250 and only 45 minutes to go.\r\n\r\n“I hate losing a deal,” he muttered. I swear his brow was starting to sweat. \r\n\r\nMy husband is extremely frugal. It’s not that he denies himself. Just finds the best deal he can. And this was a great deal.\r\n\r\nHere’s the thing about me … and him, I guess. I love to go on a ride. No, I don’t mean on a motorcycle. I mean “A RIDE.” Like adrenaline coursing through the veins. Getting all worked up about the dream of the motorcycle. \r\n\r\nI want it. \r\n\r\nI want it.\r\n\r\nOf course, Laura insists I just want to spend money. Well, that may be true as well. But still…\r\n\r\n8:45. No change in the bid price. Now, when I try to speak, Jay doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulders tense up as he barks, “Quiet, I’m concentrating.”\r\n\r\nOh God, I want it. I just want it to sit on it and turn the motor on and play with the clutch. By they way, there is one thing I don’t like about the bike. It does vibrate. A lot. Jay’s Honda Nighthawk 750 doesn’t. But then, just as with Honda cars, Honda motorcycle seats are too hard. Plus, the equivalent Honda (Rebel) pales in my heart compared to the slick-looking Raptor, a baby bike that looks like a manly bike, which has the most comfortable seat of the 30 or so bikes on which I’ve sat over the past three months.\r\n\r\n8:50. Jay’s been babbling that this is too good a deal to pass up. Droplets of sweat coming out. I want to dab his brow. My heart is racing. \r\n\r\nI tell him that I just don’t have the money to buy it (yeah, like I don’t find a way to buy anything I want somehow). Then, he shocks me and says maybe he’d buy it. And I would ride it when I can learn.\r\n\r\nHe had entered the price he was willing to pay, had it all set up to go. \r\n\r\n8:55. “Should I press the button?” he asks. \r\n\r\nI shock myself when I tell him that I can’t make that decision for him. Actually, I could have. But Laura’s voice echoes in my head and apparently she’s shoved a sock into my cosmic mouth. \r\n\r\n8:56. The price is now $1300. That’s less than half the price for which we could have originally bought the bike and pretty close to the normal retail value of the bike. “I gotta stop this,” he says, still staring intently at the screen. When I try to speak, he waves his hand to signal that I need to, for want of a better word, shut up.\r\n\r\n8:57. I want to shout, “YES YES YES buy it!” But I just sit with my stomach flip-flopping. He was talking about how I’d have it when I’m ready. He could re-sell it. Still, his finger wasn’t on the button.\r\n\r\n8:59. “What should I do?” he said, more to himself than to me, his finger on the button. $1325.\r\n\r\nI pray he does. I pray he doesn’t. \r\n\r\nThen, panic ensued. A flurry of words, crescendo. Seconds ticking away. The deal of a lifetime slipping away.\r\n\r\nFinger starting to press on that button. Inside, I’m screaming, “DO IT! DO IT.”??????компютри\r\n\r\nThen, it’s over. Sold to the man for $1377. Not to the man sitting next to me. \r\n

And then the instant replay and remorse for such a deal lost. I ask him, “Look, would you buy dog food on sale when you don’t have a dog?” He said, “Well, you might if you were going to get a dog some day.”

\r\nBut I realized that though he said over and over he wanted the bike because it was a great deal, the real reason was to buy it for me. My husband, not a man to fork over cash without great consideration, not a man who exhibits mushy sentimentality, was simply trying to do something loving for me.\r\n\r\nAnd though I’m also not of the mushy bent, I loved him dearly in that moment.‘, ‘Would you buy dog food without owning a dog?’, 0, ”, ‘publish’, ‘open’, ‘open’, ”, ‘would-you-buy-dog-food-without-owning-a-dog free real ringtones sprint download polyphonic ringtones download free ringtones tracfone cingular free mp3 ringtones cricket phone ringtones boost free ringtones real tone ringtones make your own free ringtones download free samsung ringtones nokia composer ringtones free ringtones for cricket cell phone info personal polyphonic remember ringtones nextel real music ringtones real music ringtones ringtones free gospel ringtones download free sprint ringtones free nokia ringtones tracfone music real ringtones ringtones crazy frog listen ringtones ringtones for prepaid phone

At any rate - VT Mama, I’m on my way!

Yes, I can tell by your gasps of shock and awe that this was truly impressive. But wait, there’s more. The second crucial step toward my goal is going through an obstacle course. (This may be too terrifying a feat for the young to watch). Oh, well, the audio stinks, but if you can wait it out, I think you’ll agree with my final comment.

Don’t try this at home - professional rider course. Professional Zephyr Hills bottles (ahem: product placement).

Finally, here’s me five minutes later on my Honda Nighthawk 750 zipping around those little bottles.

Oh, alright, so it’s actually my husband. Big, woo woo deal. I’ll get there.

Sooo, I have a huge bump on my leg. Thank goodness I wore my husband’s hiking boots or accident one, where my foot was stuck under the bike, would have been a disaster.

I’m proud of myself, however, that I got up all three times and tried again.

I’m going to get a junker to learn on eventually and my husband is going to teach me how to get from point A to point B, you know, little things like braking without turning the dumb handlebars so the bike doesn’t fall over (sigh) … and THEN I can take the class and get my license.

I was going to get a beautiful Johnny Pag 300 Raptor (a really beautiful bike for an amazing price).

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BUT … I can’t see ruining a perfectly pretty bike by dropping it over and over. So I’m not sure what I’m going to do, except my next step would be a junker for sure, until I figure out how the heck to get from point A to point B without squashing my foot.