Rocinante's
date
Brian the accountant
and I were discussing the date of reconciliation. As usual I was looking for
one that was far away as possible, so we settled on September 13. A Friday.
Black Friday.
What a great day to pick up Rocinante (pronounced "Ross-in-an-tee"),
my latest toy. It's a 1994 Triumph Daytona 1200, a model which I have an unreasonably
soft spot for. Partly because I had a hotrod version when working for Triumph
some years ago, but mostly because I like big, long, heavy, and over-powered
sports-touring motorcycles.
The stupidity and excess of stuffing something into a turn it was never designed
for, getting away with it, and experiencing the sheer explosion of raw and excessive
horsepower of a big-cube and highly-strung motorcycle on the exit when you cut
it loose simply rings the bells. Getting that exit right is the biggest reward,
as it can change the meaning of time and distance. As a former pillion once
put it, "You just seem to turn the throttle and there you are."
This is my third Triumph, and I blame spouse Ms M snr for its addition to a
garage which is already suffering severe indigestion. M is still in shock, but
I've got her by the proverbials - hopefully.
Y'see she reckoned I needed to have a little chat with the accountant, since
I hadn't kept up with the tax returns for the last few years. Just too goddamn
busy - if you must know. That's my excuse.
Anyway, Ms M, aka the Managing Director or HMV, said the accountant was top
of the visiting list. So I rang him. First thing he said was, "Know anyone
who wants to buy a Daytona?" See, viewers, it's not my fault. Of course
I said "yes" - the blood flowing through my veins is still red, last
time I checked.
(Maybe I should quietly mention at this point that I know Brian the accountant's
Dayt somewhat intimately - having ridden it several years ago - and was planning
to ask him how much he wanted for it, much later in the year.)
Now since Ms M wanted the tax sit sorted - fussy, fussy, fussy - and since I
had to see Brian the Clever to do it, I can conveniently blame her for the Triumph.
She's not happy about it, and that thrumming noise you hear is her thinking
gear getting around exactly how I've pulled the proverbial rug out from under
her "but you can't buy another bike" argument. Of course I've since
muddied the waters by buying her another bike recently, which has understandably
made her grateful and even more suspicious. Her problem is she's not sure what
target to hit first...
Now you might argue that adding a motorcycle to a stable which already numbers
eight is a little excessive. But you'd be wrong. In fact, Ms M snr owns a trail
bike, two touring bikes (a middleweight and a heavyweight, depending on conditions),
plus a commuter. Youngest unmarried (Ms A) owns a trail bike (and is dragging
the chain somewhat, in my view). I own a trail bike, an outfit, a touring bike,
and am about to add a sport-touring bike to the stable for obvious reasons.
And there's a spare trail bike which no-one claims ownership over, but is kept
in case of emergencies. Like when the eldest unmarried (Ms M jnr) wants to have
a play.
See? It's all perfectly reasonable when you look at the ownership issue. Can't
see what all the fuss is about, really. The fact Ms M snr never rides her heavyweight
tourer, which happens to fit me perfectly as a commuter, is just one of those
things that makes life interesting. It's not as though I made her keep it...oops,
I'll get back to you on that.
Which doesn't solve the tax problem. It needs fixing. And I'm still staggered
that calling the accountant in a perfectly innocent attempt to solve the problem
cost me ten thousand blasted dollars much earlier than expected. Still, things
could be worse. This is a very special bike, originally owned and fettled to
within an inch of its life by then Triumph dealer manager Jim Steele. Which
means it has good suspension and tune.
Brian has been the perfect caretaker - not afraid of riding it, but somehow
keeping it in perfect nick. He's just one of those people who won't tolerate
anything substandard. So at 20,000km it will be nicely run in. Fortunately he's
also patient, as my promised payment and collection date was months ago.
It will be good to add Rocinante to the shed. A 300-series Triumph 1200 isn't
as well balanced as the 900 Daytona, but it's still a good motorcycle once you
get your head around it. A very blunt tool, that can be made to pretend precision
when you're prepared to bully it.
Worthy of the Rocinante tag, which I've attached to just two other motorcycles
over the years - one of them my previous Daytona. In case you were wondering,
Rocinante is an historic name. It was Don Quixote's horse.
Guy "Guido" Allen
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