In a year fraught with household and medical issues, I’ve fallen victim to a disease that only affects bikers, and the only known cure is relatively costly. Seriously, if there was an organization to help raise funds for us victims, Sally Struthers would tell you that for the price of a dozen Venti Iced Caramel Macchiatos a day, you can help a biker afflicted with (cue dramatic chord) SMAS.
SMAS, or Sudden Motorcycle Acquisition Syndrome, strikes motorcyclists without warning (hence the name), and usually manifests itself with the additional web browsing of Cycle Trader, Craigslist and various motorcycle forums. Drooling can be involved. I’d thought I’d taken all the preventative measures. I’d already decided that I couldn’t afford anything I’d want as a replacement bike. Instead, I’d outfitted the R-Honda with a trunk, which made commuting to work with a lunch and a gym bag really easy, and was cheaper than buying a bike. Then, it happened. I saw a photo. That photo lead to more photos, which led to Web surfing, which led to a short list of bikes, which led to an incredible find. I couldn’t NOT see this bike. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I talked myself into thinking that something horrible was wrong with the bike. At this price, surely the bike was missing the engine, had been rusting in a barn for years, or required blood sacrifice instead of fuel. But it was sooooo preeeeetty. I made an appointment to see it.
I looked the bike over, but couldn’t see anything I’d call a deal breaker. Then I took a test ride. Oh sweet merciful crap, that was an amazing 20-mile test. I was so deep throes of SMAS, I had to apply the only cure known. The following Saturday, I took the R-Honda on her final ride to the dealership. Four hours later, I was almost in tears when I emptied her saddlebags and transferred the contents to the new (to me) ride.
Sadly, unlike Chicken Pox, having SMAS does not mean I’ll never succumb to it again. It may only assure that I am more susceptible to it in the future. I need a bigger garage.