John

John, like me, hates talking on the phone, but he’ll talk your ear off when it comes to the subjects he and I have in common, which are many. A shared passion is motorcycles and riding, with me gravitating towards the hotrod Kawasaki motos of the Era, while John stuck with Euro motos, BMW foremost, with Moto Guzzi second.

The above picture was what he sent me earlier this evening as I was lounging alongside Jen on the bed, cats upon and between. Two new tires this week, he’d said, a 750.00 hit to his bank account. John told me how one had caught a screw which he patched, then after he’d rotated the other bike into service a drill bit manifested itself into the tire, the image of which you see above.

John has long had cooler cars than I, but he’s also an unrepentant Europhile, which means he needs spares. Spares as in spare cars.

I won’t go into the august list of four-wheeled confections that he has owned but know that he’s had a 3.0 CS as well as a series 1.5 E-type. John’s cars are worthy of an entry of their own.

I asked him how many bikes were in the stable now, and he responded with these:

“When I want to get there, I take the BMWs. When I want to have fun, I ride the Guzzi”. I texted back that the Guzzi was still my sentimental favorite.

John has always been far more passionate about motorcycling than me. More than once he’d show up at the Ancestral Manor in Elk Grove, chilled to the bone because it was either raining, in which case he was wet and cold, or foggy, so damp and cold, or just cold, because in California in Winter in the Sacramento valley it very seldom snows, It just gets cold.

Well, it used to get cold. Elk Grove and The Ancestral Manor are at least thirty years in the rear views.

“Leather is a poor insulator” John would quip as I’d pour him a steaming cuppa joe.

Not that snow would impede John’s passion for two wheels.

The majority of rides John has had have been BMW’s . From his first, an R75/5, I think to an R 100 RS, to several others unknown to me, due to traveling and falling out of contact for a while, the Airhead has been his favored ride.

Come to think of it, the RS was the bike he’d kept longest. Can’t say I blamed him; it’s a gorgeous bit of kit:

I may have thought about buying it a time or two, but my relentless practicality, as well as my then peripatetic nature put a stop to that idea.

“I never really considered myself a motorcyclist, just someone who could ride”. John texted, then followed quickly with a call.

“But you are a motorcyclist” I said, by way of answering the phone.

“I’m definitely not a Biker”, he responded, telling me about the time in a Harley store, picking up a part for a co-worker and overhearing the talk between the bearded middle aged men, all dressed in that boutique’s clothing, discussing the next item of identity or personality that they’d purchase next.

“Like a bunch of fourteen year-olds” John lamented, adding that he was not noticed because his clothing was wrong, brightly colored clothing that was made to be seen, not to mark one as a rebel or an outcast. “When folks find out I ride, I get invited to ride along. It’s the worst thing that I can think of, riding in a group. It’s my time alone, time to be.” a pause. 

“Has anything made you feel old yet?” John finished.

“You mean besides my knees, burgeoning waistline, worrisome blood work and general crankiness?” I asked.

“Tomorrow’s our thirty-second anniversary.” John answered, referring to his marriage. No kids, many cats.

“Still have the Alfa in the garage?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Fuck, we’re old.” 

I was mentioning cool cars, wasn’t I? I’ll have to reestablish contact with John. It’s just the nature of our friendship- contact/quiet, contact/quiet, and in the quieting decades of my allotted time, there needs to be stories of the Really Cool Stuff that John has had.

Like we all have had.