As I was sitting on the bus yesterday, I saw an article that the Minneapolis Police Department is auctioning off all of their motorcycles. They’re disbanding the motorcycle unit. Which is only about 6 bikes but you know. Now that I think about it after 18 years of living here in the Land of the Loon, it hit me that I really don’t see motorcycle cops, I guess someone decided that since the season here is about 4 months at best maybe it was better that the constabulary conduct their business from the safety and warmth of late model American automobiles.
As I read the article two things struck me, 1) Harley to 2) Loaded. So they’re auctioning them all off. These are some nice bikes. And they’re “cop” bikes.
This started the following train of thought:
- I’m nearly 50 years old.
- The kid are just about gone. True I have a 14 year old but she spends all her time in her room and I never see her anyway so, she’s kinda gone.
- I could live on the open road, grow a beard, care not about anything and get by on like $1100 a year. I have family members that make it on that.
- I’ve never really done anything in the last 28 years where I’ve answered the mental question “What would my wife say” with the rebellious answer “Fuck it”.
BTW just thinking that way kinda scared me because to be honest, because A0 she has proven to be able to read my mind more times that I can count and B) I’m not sure I’ve ever done anything where at some point I’ve said to myself “what would my wife say?” Yes I am owned.
How long did I expect to be married anyway? My second wife, who I haven’t met yet, is probably just graduating from college somewhere and if I don’t get out there and look for her I may never find her.
Talk about walking right to the edge of the cliff. Where did all this come from?
Now, for the first time, I “get” the midlife crises old fat guys experience. They act on their impulses.
Relax, I’m not going to act on my impulses, had I don’t that we’d be panning gold in British Columbia about now. I’m not leaving my 1st and current wife, but I gotta tell ya the thought of one them Harley’s sure sounds cool. I would absolutely ROCKET up the cool ladder, one last explosion of testosterone laced old-guy super cool, devil may care, rebellious coolness. I get a little weepy just thinking about it.
And like a Super Nova of dudedeness it would all fade away and just like I’m sure I’ll be wearing crocs and black socks and umbrella hats and Mrs S will have to execute the standing order I have in our marriage contract that when I start wearing shit like that, she is to put a bullet in the back of my head, or smother me with my pillow. My younger lucid self would not me living like that.
Harley. Cop Harley. Imagine pulling up to a drawbridge opening and saying to no one in particular, “It’s got cop suspension, cop tires, cop shocks..”
Can’t stop a fella from dreaming.