Gary's poignant note about his mother (may she rest in peace), got me
thinking about an note that I wrote for our club newsletter. I would like to
share it with you.
Dave G
PS I live in Sarnia, Ontario Canada. The references to London and Paris
refer to the cities in Ontario, not Europe. The Cagiva is a 1985 Alazzurra
that has been in the family for 25+ years. Judy is my wife (who still loves
me after 31 years of marriage and motorcycles) - I'm a lucky guy!
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How do you thank someone you have never met, and never will?
In January of 1998, I saw an ST2 for the first time. It was silver. Here was
a Ducati with saddlebags that looked like it would be comfortable enough to
go the distance. I remember sitting on it and thinking that this was going
to be my next bike. I don't remember what the price was, but it was
obviously something that I couldn't justify to the "powers that be", so I
had to be content with drooling for a while. I went back to riding the
Cagiva.
Fast forward a few years and I am still searching for a single motorcycle
that will do everything. I have owned several other bikes since 1998, but I
still haven't found what I was looking for. I went back to riding the
Cagiva.
Fast forward again, this time to 2010 and I am test riding a Multistrada
1200S with my wife Judy. Billed as four motorcycles in one and my hope for
that one motorcycle, but I come away disappointed. Nice machine, but at $20K
plus, it wasn't doing it for me. By this time, I am looking for excuses not
to ride the bikes anymore. I go back to riding the Cagiva and feel guilty
because it is not getting out very often; and then I take the car.
After a motorcycle trip in Spain, Judy has started hinting about wanting to
ride with me more often, but the Cagiva really isn't doing it for her; too
small, too cramped, seat too hard and suspension too harsh, so we don't get
out together very often.
Spring 2011 and I am at home mid day during the week to feed the puppies
some lunch. This is not usual for me. I have convinced myself that I need a
sport tourer of some kind for the two of us and maybe something like an
older VFR might be what I need. It is not European and I am having trouble
getting excited about the idea, but it does make sense in a warped kind of
way. I decide to check out Kijiji London and see what is available while I
am waiting for lunch to be consumed.
Much to my surprise, one of the first things that pop up is a 2002 ST2 in
blue. It has high mileage, but the price is reasonable. I moved on to the
next ad.
But the ad kept calling out to me. Over the next few days, I kept looking
for it, to see if it were still there, hoping that maybe it would be gone
and I wouldn't have to explain to Judy that I wanted to buy it; hoping that
it would still be there and that it wasn't too late to go and look at it. I
finally worked up the courage to ask her about it, and she agreed.
We drove to London and looked at the bike. In asking why the bike was for
sale, it was explained that the gentleman was a friend of the owner, who had
recently died, and he was selling it for the family. We negotiated for a bit
and settled on a price. While we were talking, his cell phone rang twice,
other people wanting to come and look at the bike. Despite the delay, I was
the first serious looker.
There is something eerie about buying from a person who has died. It was not
a voluntary parting; it is like you are accepting custodianship, not taking
ownership. His name was George.
I spoke to the local dealer. Yes, they knew of the bike. George had a
reputation for taking care of things. I felt better about the purchase.
Several others saw the bike and commented, "Was that George's bike?"
George's bike and I were slow to bond. It was an ok ride, but not exciting.
Still, it did mostly what I asked of it on my day to day rides.
Then came the day I decided to meet up with some club members and ride to
the Paris Vintage Rally. It was comfortable enough for the hour and a half
ride to the meeting point, but once we got off, on to the 2 lane roads, it
became apparent that it did not like to corner and would run wide, most
un-Ducati like. At the show site, it would not restart, and had to be bump
started. Despite all that, after having spent as much time as I wanted at
the Rally, instead of heading home, I decided to go further east to see my
Dad. By the time I got home later that evening, I realised that I had ridden
for 600 kms that day and actually felt good about it. I hadn't spent that
much time on a bike in years.
The starting issues turned out to be a loose plug on the back of the starter
solenoid; a known issue. A zip tie fixed that. Raising the rear ride height
made the bike corner more like a Ducati. The morning question of should I
take the car or the bike, were more often coming out in favour of the bike;
even when it was threatening to rain. This bike was growing on me.
Come the summer, I did something that I haven't done since I was much
younger. I rode the bike to a weekend rally in Tennessee instead of
trailering it down; 2900 km in 4 days. Coming home, I could almost have
qualified for a 1000 miles in 24 hours Iron Butt award, and that was mostly
on twisty 2 lane roads (at least until I hit Ohio). I had expected to be
crippled from spending that much time on the bike, but I wasn't. I rode it
to work the next day.
In the less than 12 months, George's bike has changed my life with
motorcycles. Now I look forward to riding; I actually can't wait for the
temperature to stay above freezing over night, just so I can ride to work in
the mornings. I am in the planning stages of 2 or 3 long rides for the
summer. The bike is getting new suspension, an upgraded headlight and heated
grips. It got a new top case for carrying extra stuff on the road (and my
lunch bag on the way to work). These are all things that I think George
would have approved of. I am trying to look after his bike. It even won an
award at the London Bike Show last month.
So George, I just wanted to say thank you for passing your bike on to me. It
is in good hands and is going to be in the family for years to come. It is
right at home, sharing the garage with the Cagiva. I hope that you approve.
George, please keeping looking out for us; it is good to have friends in
high places. I wish that we had known each other before this.
RIP George Gilbert 1962 - 2011
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PPS People say that motorcycles are dangerous. George drowned while
vacationing in Mexico. Carpe Diem! You just never know.
Dave G.
aka The Goochman
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