I had been searching online for months hoping to find the closest thing to my Dad’s trike as possible. I was dismissed, mocked, and talked down to in this process several times. Many people did not get it. I was being “over the top” or “excessive” in my wants. What some people failed to understand was that I was purchasing a motorcycle for a very specific purpose. I had time to search out exactly what I wanted. While riding as a passenger was always fun for me, riding as a driver might be completely different story. I didn’t know if I’d like riding, so if I was going to do it for Dad I wanted it to be his style. Many people started to tell me I needed to give up some of my wants. I needed to find a different color or a different year. Negotiate on some of the perks or upgrades. I even had several people try to convince me to find a different kind of motorcycle entirely. Some were truly trying to help while others simply didn’t understand. And that’s okay. I didn’t want to compromise. I wanted my motorcycle to be as close to Dad’s as I could get.
Eventually my husband took up a serious interest. He was doing research and looking at bikes for himself. Once we scheduled our licensing class I was afraid he would get a bike and start riding. After all, he just wanted the wind in his hair. So maybe I did need to compromise. Maybe I should let go of some of my over the top expectations. But being the supportive partner he is, my husband told me to hold true to what I wanted. He supported me completely, but my hope in finding what I wanted was dwindling.
Friday night, the night before our first riding lesson, I asked for the right bike to be laid in my lap.
My husband and I had just finished our first motorcycle license class. That process is not only physically exhausting but mentally exhausting as well. We were only a few miles from the DFW Honda dealership and my husband wanted to take a look. A few hours prior I would have said yes, but I was too tired. I said no. He persisted, so, begrudgingly, I agreed.
Still not entirely prepared to compromise, we went to DFW Honda. It was 30 minutes before closing on a Saturday evening, and the place was packed. We browsed around the showroom. Still not seeing what I wanted, I approached a sales person. Preston. I told Preston exactly what I wanted. A 2008/2010 Honda Goldwing Trike. Red. Upgrades. And I told him my budget. He had intense eye contact, but as soon as I heard the words come out of my mouth I broke the eye contact and dropped my head a bit. I realized not many people could respect all the superficial things I was asking for.
“When do you want it?” he asked.
I laughed a little inside. Humoring him, I said, “Tomorrow.”
“We’re closed tomorrow,” he said.
I’m really not trying to be over the top here, but the magic of that statement caught me completely off guard. I didn’t know if he was suggesting he could find it for me in a matter of days or if he was just up to challenge. So I thought I would call his bluff.
“Okay. Tuesday.”
I was in a daze, so forgive me for not remembering the exact words. I remember Preston explaining to me that the sales deal on a 2008 red Honda Goldwing Trike with 9,700 miles had fallen through earlier that day. If I wanted it, the bike was mine.
“Is this your bike?” he asked.
I think those were the magic words, but I can’t be certain. I was, however, certain that it was definitely my bike. Yes. Yes, it was my bike. And then I asked to see her.
My husband and I went outside as Preston pulled the trike around. Much to my husband’s surprise, and embarrassment, I started to cry. In public.
And so she was mine. I will never forget how my heart sang when I realized the beauty and timing of this experience was not lost on Preston. I no longer felt ashamed asking for all those very specific things. I felt empowered. The motorcycle was everything I wanted. It was laid in my lap. And Preston celebrated with me.
