Mourning the Loss

I never got to say good-bye. I got home and she was already gone. Forever. She left with another man who I never got to meet and who may or may not know how to treat her right and give her the respect she needs. I will never see her again.

(Just a little warning, if you’ve never fallen in love with an inanimate object before, you should just stop reading now. All the eye-rolling and finger-gagging gestures you’re about to commit might actually cause you harm. If, though, you’ve ever fallen in love with a car, a purse, or your very first motorcycle, read on my friends and feel my pain.)

Bessie is gone. She has left us to continue her destiny of gently bringing the sport of motorcycle riding to the new riders of the world. We listed her on Craigslist (and if you’ve never tried selling something on there, you really should – it’s free and we sold Bessie in less than a week). Anyhow, we listed her and got lots of interested folks. All were new riders, which I thought was great since she’s helped countless folks get their licenses over the past several years. Many of the interested parties were women, or men wanting to buy her for their wives, also great in my opinion. But the lucky person who got to take her away was a nice young man named Chris who doesn’t have his license yet. He was very enthusiastic and we exchanged some emails before he came over on Sunday to take her away. I wasn’t home. Luke left a family party we were at to go meet Chris and I was trying my best to leave early, too, but I called home as I got in my car and Luke told me she was leaving down the driveway right at that moment.

(I seriously feel like I want to cry. I’m completely retarded.)

I got home and asked Luke all about the sale. Was he nice? Did he sit on her? (Luke told me he was 6’5″ tall!) Did you give him the title? Bill of sale? Owner’s manual? Then we sat there quietly.

“I feel bad” Luke said. “I feel guilty, like we just sold our elderly aunt” I said.

We both moped around the rest of the night. You have to understand that we have had that bike for twelve years. She was Luke’s first street bike. We rode everywhere on her. Long summer afternoons aimlessly driving around. Trips to New Hampshire and Lake George. She went everywhere with us. And she was my first street bike, too. There was a stretch in the middle when I wasn’t riding and Luke bought his Buell where she sat unused. She went to Luke’s cousin’s house for a while, then came back and stayed with our friend Keith and helped him get his license. Then she came back and became mine. She showed me the ropes, threw me on the road only once and only gently, took me to my first bike week not riding on the back of Luke’s bike, got me over my fears, taught me how to enjoy the wind in my face and the confidence if riding on the front instead of on the back.

This year Luke bought a new bike and suggested that I try riding his old bike. Bessie needed some work: tires, a headlight, minor things like that, but Luke thought I should just ride the old Buell instead of fixing Bessie up. So I did. And she sat. And Luke decided we should sell her. We wanted to sell her. She wasn’t being ridden and she was taking up garage space. Might as well sell her. But now it’s so hard to realize that she’s gone. Gone.

My hope is that Chris takes good care of her and treats her well. She will do the same, I’m sure. I hope that he’s patient with her and doesn’t get frustrated with her since she is 23 years old and requires a little warming up. I hope that he gets his license and rides her and then passes her onto another new rider when he’s ready for a new bike. I hope that he loves her like we did.

Have fun Chris, via con dios, Bessie.

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3 Comments

  1. Oh honey, I cried reading this! I completely understand. I fell completely in love with Pedro, my first car. You may remember him from such escapades as “Oh my god there’s a hole in my gas tank!” Anyway, when he was totalled, I was devastated. When we went to the place they towed him to to clean him out and turn over the title, I hugged the steering wheel and cried and Nate had to pry me out. I’m even more attached to Al (my current car, not Al the Magical IT Guy) that I can’t even imagine what I’ll do when he gives up the ghost (which won’t be for a good long time!)

    All that rambling to say … I understand.

    (PS: Craigslist rules. We got our apartment on there, and sold some junk when we were moving out of the old place!)

    Reply

  2. Oh, thank you. I’m glad someone understands. I do remember Pedro and his many escapades. So sad he’s gone. And I bet you’re pretty attached to not only Al the car, but Al the Magical IT Guy, too.

    Reply

  3. You should ask my mom about the time I cried and cried when she tried to throw out my chalkboard when I was younger. Never mind that I never used it. I just couldn’t bear to part with it. I understand how easy it is to get attached to inanimate things.

    Reply

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