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I was going to put this in the RIP forum, but this is more of a happy memory for me, so I thought I would share it with you all. You see, I have lost a great friend and mentor.
My wife and I... well, as we wander through our memories, I thought I should share this one with all of you in the GSR community. Like any good story, this one was about motorcycles and a girl.
When I was in my second year of university I got my first motorcycle, a serious fixer-upper (81 GS400L), and in the spring I met a very pretty girl. We got along great, and by the summer it was time for me to meet her mom and dad. Being a bit of an idiot I decided to ride my motorcycle the 300km from my student house to her parents place, where she was living for the summer. I had been licensed for less than a month, and the bike looked rough with its tremclad paint job, dripping oil pan and smoking... hmm come to thing of it, just about everything but the turn signals either smoked or dripped. My friends were making bets on how hard her dad was going to hit me, or if I would just get thrown out of the house.
Forever etched into my memory is the face her mom made as I pulled up the driveway. I think at first she was hoping I was just turning around, but then girl friend bouncing came out of the house to meet me. To say the least I think her mother a little surprised and alarmed at the teenage boy standing in her front hall, reaking of oil and gas, covered in highway dirt and dressed in an armoured snow suit.. and holding her daughter...
Then she took me to meet her dad, an industrial man from the west midlands of England... He was a lot bigger than me, with a beard that could only just hide the massive scar running from his right cheek to nearly his throat... he didn't stand up.
He turned off the tv and told me to sit down... said "you must be Kevin"... I didn't think it was going very well... then he caught wind of me...
he asked "Is that you that smells of oil" .... my reply, the most unitelegent, empty headed sound I have every made .."yeeeahhh..."
He asked "you ride a motorcycle?"... I replied a littler sharper this time.."yeah"..
Then he got up and looked outside at the still smoking, dripping motorcycle in his driveway, and everything changed. He glanced back at me and rather happily stated "I 'ad one-u-em." He and I became great friends. As his wife put it, we 'got on like a house on fire'. As luck would have it he used to rebuild bikes as well.
Her mother took significantly longer to win over, particularly after I got a second helmet.
5 years later, I married that pretty girl at a small, mid August wedding just this past summer. A few weeks later my now father-in-law and I started work on restoring a small vintage scooter for my wife (with the approval of my mother-in-law). My life, our lives, were perfect. I had everything I could have wanted.
Just before Christmas my father-in-law suffered a sudden heart attack and passed away before either my wife or I could reach the hospital. My wife and I, we miss him terribly, and as we wander through our memories, I thought I should share this one.
My wife and I... well, as we wander through our memories, I thought I should share this one with all of you in the GSR community. Like any good story, this one was about motorcycles and a girl.
When I was in my second year of university I got my first motorcycle, a serious fixer-upper (81 GS400L), and in the spring I met a very pretty girl. We got along great, and by the summer it was time for me to meet her mom and dad. Being a bit of an idiot I decided to ride my motorcycle the 300km from my student house to her parents place, where she was living for the summer. I had been licensed for less than a month, and the bike looked rough with its tremclad paint job, dripping oil pan and smoking... hmm come to thing of it, just about everything but the turn signals either smoked or dripped. My friends were making bets on how hard her dad was going to hit me, or if I would just get thrown out of the house.
Forever etched into my memory is the face her mom made as I pulled up the driveway. I think at first she was hoping I was just turning around, but then girl friend bouncing came out of the house to meet me. To say the least I think her mother a little surprised and alarmed at the teenage boy standing in her front hall, reaking of oil and gas, covered in highway dirt and dressed in an armoured snow suit.. and holding her daughter...
Then she took me to meet her dad, an industrial man from the west midlands of England... He was a lot bigger than me, with a beard that could only just hide the massive scar running from his right cheek to nearly his throat... he didn't stand up.
He turned off the tv and told me to sit down... said "you must be Kevin"... I didn't think it was going very well... then he caught wind of me...
he asked "Is that you that smells of oil" .... my reply, the most unitelegent, empty headed sound I have every made .."yeeeahhh..."
He asked "you ride a motorcycle?"... I replied a littler sharper this time.."yeah"..
Then he got up and looked outside at the still smoking, dripping motorcycle in his driveway, and everything changed. He glanced back at me and rather happily stated "I 'ad one-u-em." He and I became great friends. As his wife put it, we 'got on like a house on fire'. As luck would have it he used to rebuild bikes as well.
Her mother took significantly longer to win over, particularly after I got a second helmet.
5 years later, I married that pretty girl at a small, mid August wedding just this past summer. A few weeks later my now father-in-law and I started work on restoring a small vintage scooter for my wife (with the approval of my mother-in-law). My life, our lives, were perfect. I had everything I could have wanted.
Just before Christmas my father-in-law suffered a sudden heart attack and passed away before either my wife or I could reach the hospital. My wife and I, we miss him terribly, and as we wander through our memories, I thought I should share this one.
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