That is my new Ninja. It's a 2005 250cc. According to my coworker who drove it home for me, it was probably crashed at some point, the front blinkers are poor aftermarket jobs, the front fairing was replaced with a substandard imitation, the clutch is fairly soft, and overall he wasn't impressed. The seller said she was the third owner, and it had been a learning bike for all three. I took it for a ride today and the trip odometer has a stiff dial, the suspension seems jangly, and I need to tighten the mirrors a bit more. It needs a good once-over from a qualified mechanic, some routine maintenance and lubrication and the idling speed needs to be adjusted.
ANYWAY...
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I got it yesterday after months of waiting to take the safety class, then rescheduling the class, then waiting another month, then getting the license, then trying to find the most popular starter bike in the country during the most popular riding season of the year, then finding one, then waiting for the title to be officially transferred to the seller from her roommate, then waiting for the seller to come back from vacation, and NOW IT'S MINE.
I took it out for a ride today. I think I went a grand total of 2 miles and never once made it above 20 mph. It's terrifying. It's like when I learned to drive and thought that speeds over 15 were suicidal. But it's also really fun. Really Fun. One might say, addictive.
That's the whole story, but there is a post script.
When I came back, I flipped on the TV to a program on MTV called "Made", in which teenagers decide they want to acquire some skill completely outside of their experience, such as a drama buff becoming a cheerleader. MTV hires a highly skilled coach, buys a bunch of high end gear, and tapes the 6 week transportation. It's reality TV at its worst (high school students don't have the most endearing personalities), but tonight's episode chronicled a self-proclaimed girly-girl who decided she wanted to get into motocross.
This girl is one of those teenagers that really make you question their contributions to the human race. Task one was riding a bicycle and giving up the car. She didn't even make it out of the parking lot before she'd thrown the chain, at which point she decided the bike was broken, called her mom for a pickup. When her mom got there, she wouldn't help load the bike into the truck. She threw a hissy fit instead.
The next step was to clean off a well used motocross bike, covered in mud. I'm pretty sure she'd never washed a car before. I think she managed to do the whole wash with the hose only, completely forgoing sponge and soap.
A solid hour of whining about doing hair, makeup, and being a spoiled little brat. It taught me that there are people in this world of voting age who:
- have never washed a car by hand
- refuse to touch mud
- feel that sweating is uncouth and base
- drive Mercedeses without knowing how to change the oil or possibly even put gas in the tank (unconfirmed. I'm just making guesses now. But she did drive a Mercedes.)
