Conversations with Motorcycles in Winter

Conversations with motorcycles in winter

by: J. Montgomery Spencer

The sun is out again.
Fourth day in a row.
Is that pavement I see in the streets?
Perhaps it is no more than an illusion.
Look again.
I thought I saw a yellow stripe.
Eureka John! We’ve struck asphalt.
Run and tell the motorcycle.

But the motorcycles are sleeping.
No, its forty degrees out.
I know they are restless in their garage confines.
Go to them.
I will.

Hello friends, remember me?
Friend. You are no friend of ours.
Don’t say that. I heard you calling.
We’ve always been, you have just been deaf.
Maybe. I’ve been busy you know.
We’ve been busy too. Busy rusting!
Stop it. I took care of all that.

Really? Look around this place.
Your tools are where you left them.
That plug wrench is still sitting on my cam cover.
Where is my new hydraulic clutch?
What happened to my new fork seals?
I miss my GT brothers. Are they still at your mother’s?
Why do you still have that fly paper hanging up?
Shit, this guy wouldn’t know what to do
with a ratchet if he could find one.

Stop!
I’m sorry.
I have just been under the gun with work and school.
It’s been so cold, I didn’t want to come out here.
What about...
And I know you had to be here.
But you’re made of tougher stuff than I.
Sorry.

I just need a title.
That’s all.
Guilty.
You are guilty of neglect.
No, I took care of you guys before the snows.
I took your batteries out, they’re sitting in my room.
I changed your oil. See the old stuff is in that pan there.
I drained your tanks and carb bowls.
Not mine!
What?
You forgot mine.
No, I could have sworn I....

You were drunk!
See, the vomit is still on the fucking floor.
This man is guilty.
Guilty.
Guilty!

Yes, maybe I am.
But I didn’t forget about you.
I wrote a paper on carb cleaning.
I wrote it for you.
Yeah. First class writing there Jack.
Next time you phone it in, leave us out.

Okay, Saturday. I’ll get you your clutch line made.
You’ll need a measuring tape for that.
Where’s your measuring tape?
I think he left it in Joliet.
At least that’s what the micrometer said.
Hey, leave the micrometer out of it.
He’s doesn’t even know the metric system.

I can get a new tape measure.
When, Saturday?
Yeah. Saturday.
Tomorrow Saturday, or next month Saturday?
Tomorrow, its my day off.
Everyday is your day off.
Shut the fuck up!
Shut up, or I’ll strip every single one of you guys
down to your frames. I swear to God.

No, I wouldn’t do that to you. I love you.
Tomorrow I’ll come over. We’ll clean up around the place.
Maybe I’ll even take you out for a ride.
You really mean it?
Yep.
Well, you’ll need to fill up your gas tank.
Don’t forget it.
And your air compressor.
And our batteries.
Maybe some 2-stoke oil for me.
Have you figured out how to re-wire my brake lights?
No, I forgot.
You used to like to do those kinds of things.
Well, you used to like to shift into second.

I’m going now.
I’ll see you in the afternoon.
What, no kiss?
Goodbye.

Crazy motorcycles.