It was the summer of 1993, in Victoria, British Columbia on Vancouver Island where I found my first bike. A beautiful black 750 Honda Shadow in mint condition, being "given" away by a disgruntled and newly divorced woman while her ex was away on "business". She had a sign on the bike asking for $3000 or best offer. I looked at the bike while she stood nearby, then, jokingly offered her the contents of my wallet to drive it away then-and-now. I couldn't believe my ears when she said one word... "Sold." I pulled out my wallet, opened it wide so she could see the contents. One $20 bill. She laughed. I thought, "...well, so much for that idea." but then she surprised me again. She held out her hand, and I passed her the $20. She had a glint in her eye as she said, "Perfect, just one more thing." SO now I'm wondering what's up. She gets the insurance and transfer papers from inside her apartment, along with a receipt book that makes copies. She writes out a receipt for $20 and we both sign it. She clearly prints 750 Honda Shadow on the receipt stub, and closes the book. I glance at the cover and see a man's name there, and grin at her. "His book...?" I ask. She nods and walks away, leaving me the bike and the keys.
The next week, I get my Riders Permit and take a quick motorcycle riding course to get my street license. Previously, I'd only ridden dirt bikes on the farm where I grew up. I ride that bike everywhere that summer and fall. It was a great bike. Then my brother-in-law tells me a friend of his wants the bike and is offering $500 for it. "Sold." I say.
I miss my bike.
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