I never had really given much thought to owning a motorcycle, always had other priorities, like just getting by. Aaron, my son is the one that had the itch that wouldn't go away. He was dying to get a dirt bike, so I went with him to an auction in Dallas to see what they had. It was there that the pesky insect sought me out and bit me. Caused me to go from motorcycle to motorcycle, sitting on each, starting the motor, listening, dreaming. You see, the bug that bit me was the male of the species and they have unusually powerful venom. I found one that I felt would do me just fine. A Honda Saber cruiser. A 50's looking motorcycle, low, classic, with a deep sound, not that high whinny sound of a racer, but the sound of real man, deep and articulate (yeah, my bug was definitely a male).

I knew better than to buy one, I had Linda, my wife to deal with, an obstacle of gigantic proportions, an unscalable mountain, I resigned myself to my dreams (sigh). Aaron had made the mistake of not taking cash to this auction, so he was unable to buy the motorcycle that he liked (could it have been God?). As the days wore on, my bug bite festered and got infected. Caused delirium! I actually began to see me owning a motorcycle (in the much distance future, when Linda becomes senile). Aaron talked, he knew everything that there was to know about motorcycles (he's such a brilliant child) and I listened and the infection spread.

One day, in a feverish state, Aaron and I stopped at the motorcycle shop, just to browse of course. There it was, the motorcycle of motorcycles, a Japanese Harley, a Yamaha Road Star, fully decked out, maroon and tan, sissy bar, windscreen, saddle bags, Harley sound, low to the ground, floor boards, big motor, it took my breath away. I forgot about the Honda. This was the one. My temperature soared, my mind swam, I became delusional, I pleaded with God, "I need this, I do nothing for me, I work, I eat, I sleep, I don't enjoy life, please, just something for me"! And then I remembered... Linda! Would God dare take her on?

On Saturday, when we were going to a flea market (a market for bugs?), it begins raining and dashed those plans. We were getting ready to leave the following day for vacation to lake LBJ and had errands to run and things to get, so we decided to use this time to get everything done. With no thought of ever actually owning one, I managed to get Linda to go with me to see my dream machine, just to drop by, drool, let her see what lights my fuse. I proudly opened the door of the store for her, even allowed her to go in first, and led her to the place of my delusions. But gasp, the spot was vacant. Surely it was just in the back being pampered and groomed. I dashed to the salesman, threw myself at his feet and whined, "Where's the Road Star?" "Oh, I sold it yesterday", he proudly proclaimed. His accomplishment was my devastation. Though I knew I could never buy it, but I just wanted Linda to see, to admire, to hopefully hear her say, "Maybe someday dear." There was no other bike that was this motorcycle's equal in the store, how was Linda to see the object of my delusions. WHERE WAS GOD... Then suddenly the clouds opened, rain begins to fall, lightening flashed, thunder was heard, the doors to the store flew opened and quick as a flash a chariot entered. It throbbed with power, its sound was a rumble, it was like a stead prancing and playing in the crisp air, it was gorgeous.

"What to my wondering eyes did appear, but a miniature Road Star, with my colors and gear."

The salesman leaned close to me and whispered (you whisper in the presence of of such a noble creature), "I just traded for it late yesterday afternoon, it's a 2001 Yamaha V-Star 1100 Classic. This guy trades about every six months, just likes to change, takes great care of his machines." What to my wondering eyes did appear, but a miniature Road Star, with my colors and gear. I approached cautiously, trying to be nonchalant, afraid I might scare it away if I become too aggressive. I begin to feel the flutter in my brain; it's that darn bug again! "What ya asking for it?" Just making conversation, of course. "Will take what I gave for trade in", said the salesman and quoted a price. My mind raced to do the calculations, "Let's see... wow wee shuzam, that's $3500 cheaper than the new Road Star. Looks are the same, saddlebags, windscreen, and sissy bar, maroon and tan, not a mark on it. GOD RULES!" I look to Linda and remember, the mountain. "See that Road Star looked just about like this but this doesn't have as big a motor, makes it not go so fast, better gas mileage (does she believe me?). Purdy, ain't she?" What, can it be, she's actually looking, admiring. Nah, she's just being polite. Now she's asking the salesman questions. She does a walk around. She looks at me, there's a light in her eyes. Do I hope, the fever rises, that darn bug. "Let's go run some errands and talk," she tells me. Surely she isn't, the mountain can't be, …cracking. Do I feel a tremble? I catch myself panting and feeling slightly faint.

As cool, calm, and collected as I can, I eagerly accompany my lovely, beautiful, intelligent, and did I say generous wife to Lens Crafters to get her glasses adjusted. She begins to share her feelings towards the motorcycle with me, expressing her reservations going into the motorcycle store, about possibly losing another member of her family in an accident (for those that don't know we lost our daughter in an auto accident), but things begin to change once there. She said that when the Road Star was gone she saw my face fall and disappointment set in, but on the sudden and mysterious arrival of the V-Star she felt a great peace, as if God had selected this one for just me and that I was to have it. She just knew this motorcycle was to be mine. GOD CERTAINLY IS GOOD, and yes, He does move mountains (the mountain, being Linda, in this case). Be still my heart.

Quickly I call the salesman, "Don't sell that motorcycle! I will be back within the hour and make a final decision; I want my son to see it (after all he knows everything there is about motorcycles. He's such a brilliant child).

I have talked with the salesman about financing. He tells me Yamaha has a revolving charge account available, but that the interest is rather high. With that prompting I remember that I have a credit card with rather low interest and a high available credit. I decide to call them on my cell phone while waiting for Linda to finish at Lens Crafters, just to see what the current interest was, if it is negotiable, and how to handle a purchase like this. The cheery person on the other end of the line tells me that it just so happens that they are running a special deal right now so people can transfer other credit balances to this account at a low interest rate. That for me it will be 4.9% until the amount is paid off. "4.9% + prime," I ask. "No, just 4.9%." they told me in return and they said that since I wouldn't be transferring another balance to their card, they would just send me a check for whatever amount I decided I needed. I told them how much I needed, hung up the phone and screamed. It was like all this had been written up in a script.

"Let's go run some errands and talk," she tells me.

We met Aaron at the dealer about 45 minutes later. Linda needed his reassurance that this was a "worthy" motorcycle. Standing straight, tall, and walking with a confident air of someone whose opinions are essential, Aaron strode around 'The Bike'. He had a little warning before needing to meet us, so had looked this motorcycle up on the internet and got the 'scoop' on it. No negatives, everyone seems to rave about it, do you think God knew something we didn't? Aaron gave it a once over. He sat on it. He started it. Looked it over again. We wait, we listen, we watch, finally it happens. Aaron straightens, looks to us and gives the nod. That acknowledgment of approval! It's done, IT'S MINE!! With a shake of the hand and the signing of papers, I now am the proud and blessed owner of a 2001 Yamaha V-Star 1100 Classic. The mountain is smiling, oh, how I love that mountain. Aaron is happy, but also jealous. Now I am a Biker. "Oh, by the way," I ask the salesman as I dash out the door, "where is a good place to get leather vests and tattoo's."

Glendall Barr