Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Upon the Departure of a Friend
Michael sold his motorcycle yesterday. It happened so fast; he put it in the paper two weeks ago--he didn't think it would sell because it's a rare one in a bright color. People who buy these motorcycles are few and far between; Kermit is in between a cruiser and a sport bike. Kermit didn't always fit in. So, when a man came over yesterday to look at it, the last thing we expected was him driving off into the sunset on Michael's bike.

During the two weeks between yesterday and the day Michael put it up for sale, we were both in denial about having to sell it. After all, Michael only had the bike for under a year--I think I wrote an entry about the day he bought it. It truly was something to have two motorcycles under one roof; we'd go for rides together, Michael on Kermit, me on my Bumble Bee. We'd take the long roads home and flick off assholes simultaneously. We would race each other on some twisty roads, and Michael would always win, because he's a far better rider than I and Kermit was a much faster bike. Obviously, selling Kermit was a tough decision Michael made. I cried as Kermit rode away.

I'll tell you why Michael sold Kermit. He sold Kermit for me. Now, he would tell you that's not true--that he sold Kermit because it made sense, and it was a logical decision. He would say that we want to buy a home soon, and the best way to do that is prioritize needs and wants and expenses. He would say that a day will come when he will buy another bike, and then it will be extra-special because he will have a two-car garage to park it in. Michael will say all of these things because Michael is one extraordinary man. But I assure you: he sold that bike because of me. Thanks to some of my income/debt problems, Michael has to help me out a lot. Sure, I know that's what couples do--make sacrifices for one another. And I would make the same sacrifice a thousand times over for Michael. It still hurts to know that I led to the departure of Kermit. Michael loved Kermit. He put a lot of work into Kermit, and while we think Kermit went to a good home, it just isn't the same as knowing Kermit is snug in our own, small garage.

And it's true--he did sell Kermit because one day in the near future, we would like to own something, and call it ours, and paint or knock down walls, or landscape or build a new deck or simply sit in the filthy squalor of OWNERSHIP. We can only do that if we buckle down, liquidate assets, prioritize needs, filter out unnecessary luxuries.

Kermit and my Bumble Bee are two of those luxuries, and they have and will fall victim to the consequences of Michael and I BEING MATURE. It's scary, growing up. It's scary realizing how important a home has become versus the newest after-market motorcycle parts or a three hour facial at a good salon. And it will also be worth it to see the results of these mature decisions.

As the buyer of Kermit rode away, I couldn't help but think about how much fun Michael and I have riding together. Had I known that last Friday was the last day we would take a ride, I would have savored it that much more. I would've demanded a longer route with more curves and quieter roads. I would have taken a photograph of the two of us and our two beautiful bikes. I would have crystallized the memory of Michael's big, handsome frame on his bike, twisting through a curly-que road with me some safe distance behind. But that opportunity is gone, now. We stood in the driveway and sighed, and as we sighed in the hot, hot heat, a thought occurred to me.

Whether we be on two wheels or on four, whether we walk or run, whether we rent or own, or have children or not--whether we squirm in middle-class poverty or breathe openly in comfort, whether we continue our educations or move to Michigan or re-settle in Katmandu, I know this--we are together. And while that does not lessen the sting of Kermit's departure, it nurtures the soul. After all, that's what Michael and I are--soulmates. We should live our lives as nothing less.


See 'ya around, Kermit. We're keeping our eyes peeled for you.
Written by FRITZ
| Link | 8 wise cracks! |



Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

Click here to find out
even more!



What My Brain is Eating
  • eatpraylove
  • www.flickr.com
    This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from Nukes524. Make your own badge here.

    What I Live By:
    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

    I Heart Tits

    HNT_1

    Blogarama - The Blogs Directory