I'm selling my bike. I decided to sell it because I had dropped it twice. Dropping it is no big deal. Just some plastics and shit. I can stand it back up, brush myself off and go.

I miss the low speed flickability of the 250. Also how forgiving it was when I made a mistake. Stopped with the bars cocked, took off on uneven footing, or stopped for a crowned road surface.

I've learned that the 250 is just about the only bike you can do that on.

Otherwise I've learned that riding a bike means saying "no" to some things. Like diving off the road onto a sidestreet and getting 0 g for a second. Or switching direction on a road. Or squeezing between cars to park with the bicycles at work.

I guess this is no trouble, or else everyone would be on small bikes. But some friends of mine with the Goldwing club, and other custom riders, tell me that it takes years of riding to get to a "Goldwing level" not because you build muscle to keep the bike up, but because you learn to make decisions to keep the bike upright.

So that's it. Inexperience brings about mistakes. Mistakes bring about Experience. Keep riding something that is easy to fix, easy to pick up, and keep on going until safe stops and maneuvers are second nature.

So while riding my ZX12R I realise that I'm having fun, but I'm having fun in a concentration kind of way. Like playing chess all day long. The 250 is fun because it's not a stresser, it's like playing Halo all day. That isn't really what I'm looking for, but I'll adapt.


Well on my way to work a zombie asked me the usual zombie questions: "YO ! Dat a 12 ?"

"Yeah"

"You sellin?"

"Yeah! Pull over we'll talk !"

(Zombie: Known to a bike rider. Zombies are inner city youths, 99% of the time homeless or crip-walking / limping. "Urban" clothing makes them limp as well. They walk around the streets in a random path and approach bikes with arms outstretched offering such gems as "DO A WHEELIE!" and "YO,Dat fast?" They all want to talk to me about it, and spout off shit about how they all have done 250 miles an hour on a "boosah". Zombies come out when a bike is going down the road and you can hear them moaning "biiikes... biiiiiiiike". Homeless zombies offer to watch your bike, etc)

And before you think this is my racist rant, I'll be happy to point out that my black friend pointed the metaphor out.


But this zombie, in his huge SUV, pulls over and talks to me about buying the bike. I paid $6000 for it, and I've dumped it since. So I think "I'll ask $6000 for it again, and get worked down". This zombie wants this bike so bad that he doesn't care "Ok, 6 I'll give you a big deposit this friday" It turns out after financing, to get me out of my loan, I need to give the bank about $7100. I call him back. "I don't mean to be a pain in the ass. But I can't sell it for $6000. I can't sell it, in fact, for any less than $7300"

"Ok, fine."

So he comes by to drop off a check, I have a few bills of sale, photos, condition reports, etc and a Notary. He's 4 hours late. He comes in and goes over the paperwork wanting more and more proof of it's condition. Ok, I can't blame him. Then he pulls out a wad of cash. Cash. And gives me $200. I said "Thanks for the money. This isn't an official deposit until I have another $1000 and next time, bring a check"

This sale is MISERABLE and SHADY AS HELL. The whole thing has me feeling angry, that this cat isn't anupstanding citizen, he's a fuckin zombie.