“It’s a shame you didn’t keep it,” Jenn says.
“Couldn’t afford to,” he says. “Everything always needed replacing. I spent so much money getting new parts. After that I had a Suzuki something-or-other for a while. That was the low point of my motorcycling career.”
“How so?” I ask. “Did it fall apart on you?”
“No, it’s just… there was nothing to it, you know?” he says with disgust. “It just went, but it had no life. No joy. No point. I couldn’t stand it.”
Quietly, in my head, I abandon the GSX1250FA as a potential future steed. It’s never appealed to me too much, anyway. But its getting that sour look from my father-in-law almost certainly writes of Suzuki in my wife’s mind. And unless you’re crazy for it, why even consider a bike that won’t make you look sexy in your wife’s eyes?
“Well, that was the era of the UJM,” I say. “Was your Honda any better?”
“It was,” Paul says. “It was a good machine. Never gave up on me, ’til I rode it into a river. I’d like to do it up. It’s in the back of that garage. I won’t give it up. That’s one of the things I’d really like to do: like to fix it up and get back on it before I get on too much in years.”
“Chris would be happy to help,” Jenn volunteers.
“I would,” I say. “I’d love to. It’s a pretty popular bike with restorers, so I’m certain it wouldn’t be too hard to get parts.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” my father-in-law says. “Maybe. Not right at the moment –– I’ve got a lot on these days, you know –– but, yes, maybe…”