Bike Addiction

Sometimes the right decision is trumped by emotion. Maybe most of the time. Depending on your political bent, that may or may not have happened in the elections just past.

It seems to happen all the time when I attempt to make rational decisions on buying motorcycles.

Just now I am blessed with an abundance of goodness when it comes to two-wheeled powered machinery, owning (1) a very pleasing and powerful retro-standard Kawasaki ZRX1200R bought new in 2001; (2) a very fast and nimble Ducati S4RS bought new in 2006; and (3) an extremely usable, accessible 2004 Triumph Bonneville T100, bought used. There is no reason on this earth I need anything else.

If I want to tour on a bike, the ZRX can be pressed into reasonable service. For commuting, the Bonnie is an obvious choice. For a track day, the Ducati won't disappoint. There really is nothing else I need.

But, Oh, do I ever want something else!

I browse the ranks of new bikes at my local dealers with a desire to own most of what I see. It's a disease, treated only by lack of funds and some remnant of responsibility.

A small, evil voice from within tells me I'm getting older and time is wasting if I want to experience all that the world of motorcycling has to offer. There's no time to stick with what you've got for years if you expect to broaden your experience. You want to KNOW, then you have to BUY.

A saving rational voice chimes in counterpoint, telling me to stop being silly and look at what I've got. If you want to buy something new, it says, you have to sell something. Can you do that, it asks ruefully.

Right now, the answer is 'No'. I am the victim of having chosen wisely - or luckily, and every bike I own is 'precious' to me. And I have run out of garage space, money, and time in the week to own/ride more than three.

So, the rational voice wins at the moment, and my addiction is held in check. I have no intellectual doubt this is the right, reasonable condition. But emotion is a strange thing. 'The Heart Wants What It Wants', according to the eminent failed rationalist Woody Allen.

How long I can hold out depends on the economy, my family responsibilities, and how much extra room I can wrest in the garage through careful reorganization.