Hello, my name is Rob and I have a problem.
WORDS/PHOTOGRAPHY: Rob Cimeno
Hello, my name is Rob and I have a problem–and I only wish a bit of overindulgence in homemade chocolate chip cookies was it. Experience has led me to believe I can’t say no to new motorcycles. I hope this is one of the first steps to recovery–admitting the problem, I mean. My wife has hinted at it all along. A few years back she dropped me off at the dealership so I could pick up my new BMW. No big deal, my sales job of needing a sport-tourer had silenced the “whaddayaneedthatfor?” that had been ringing in my ears earlier in the week.
But it wasn’t quiet for long. Exactly one month after the BMW purchase, she opened the garage door to find my new bike parked next to my old bike. “I thought you traded that Ducati in!” she shouted. “Why do you need two motorcycles?”
At that moment, the thought crossed my mind that this woman who had been my wife for 14 years barely knew me. “What do I need two motorcycles for?” I thought to myself. “You dropped me off at the dealership, and they both do different things,” I replied. But that really wasn’t the root of it at all. One motorcycle could satisfy most of the reasons I enjoyed riding.
I needed the “feeling.” What’s that, you ask? Well it’s what happened after I got my first mini-bike. The joy of riding it mixed with the fulfillment of having acquired the dangerous little object moms hate. The feeling at Christmastime after getting the one gift I truly had to have. The feeling of placing that driver’s license in my empty wallet and thinking, “Ha, suckers, I passed!” The feeling of breathing in that new-car smell. Most of all for me, it had become the feeling of a new motorcycle in my garage.
Oh, track days! I was so excited leaving the track, I called my wife while still under the influence of adrenaline. “I had such a great time, but the Ducati really isn’t set-up for the track. I need a track bike,” my sales pitch flowed. “Go for it,” she said. The quiet time away from me might be worth it.
The feeling was back. A new 2005 Honda CBR1000RR was parked next to the other two bikes. Wonderful, now I have a track bike; my little plan to fill the garage with happiness was taking shape. The trouble started whenever discussing things of a financial nature. I often heard, “You have three motorcycles in the garage; why don’t you sell one?” I learned to block it out. “Yeah, well, giving blood and selling a kidney are on the list before selling one of my bikes!” That remark, shouted in desperation, signaled I was losing ground in this struggle, and I could feel it. A cooling-off period was in order; perhaps even doing some of the neglected fix-it jobs around the house. And so it goes.
An e-mail I received last week is still haunting me. My friend Mike sent photos of his
new BMW GS Adventure. I want to feel happy for Mike, but it’s hard. He’s got the feeling. I need the feeling. But this time it will wait. For as badly as I need a supermoto bike–and I’m working on the sales pitch as I write this–I can acknowledge I have a problem, a compulsion that overwhelms *** Not only can I not set foot in a motorcycle dealerships right now, I can’t go within 100 miles of one. I feel sick. This new issue of Motorcyclist will tide me over for a little while…
Oh no, it’s 2007–the new releases are out!