Just hours after dropping Rosie off at the shop, I received a phone call from the mechanic. It seems during their initial inspection they had determined that the valve stems seals were leaking oil into the combustion chambers. I could hear in my mind the sound of the old manual cash register in the old hardware store I used to frequent in downtown Baconton many years ago - ching ching. But knowing that it would be pointless to attempt to tune the fuel injection system if oil was in the mix as well and knowing that the condition would quickly lead to fouled spark plugs, I gave the go ahead to make the repairs needed to correct that issue as well.
The remainder of the week, I would step into the garage every evening and glance at the empty spot where Rosie should be and think how odd it looked. I would then walk back into the house and think how much the bill would be when the mechanic finished. I remembered a phrase my Dad used to throw out in situations like this when I first started driving and would encounter expensive mechanical repairs with my six year old El Camino, "That's the joys of motoring!" No joy in this town, Pop.
As I was leaving work Thursday, I got the call, Rosie's repairs were complete, and I could pick her up whenever I was ready. I quickly called my wife to see if she was working late or if she could give me a ride out to the dealership. She lightly laughed and said, "You really want to pick it up tonight don't you?" Yeah, she knows me.
After we got to the dealership they hung me upside down by my ankles and a large man shook me relentlessly until every penny had fallen from my pockets. Convinced they had relieved me of everything that mildly resembled currency, they returned Rosie to me.
Before leaving, my wife spotted a new Harley Trike that caught her interest. She has avoided riding with me, because she gets squirrely every time I lean into a turn. Her comment on the Trike was simple, "I could ride on that, it doesn't lean." Nice, I thought, Only $31,000. I pulled out my empty pockets in a universal display of a cashless state of being.
By the time we hit the road home, it was dark and around 30F. I did not mind it in the least. I enjoyed the thirty minute ride on the winding road over the lake. The bike felt great and seemed to have more horsepower and torque than ever.
Friday morning was clear and around 40F, so I rode to work. The scenery was not much, but it was good just to be back on two wheels. And that in itself just made it seem like all was right, even for just a little while.