First, Monday afternoon I order a clutch lever and handlebars. I call the insurance company for a quote and I confirm with a friend, Josue, that he could drive the bike for me so that it could be driven away. By Wednesday, the clutch lever has still not shipped and the company refuses to change the name on the address I gave (I was mailing everything to my friend Alan, because mail "disappears" where I live). By Thursday, I cancel the clutch lever order and plan to go to Cycle Therapy before work on Saturday and buy everything else I need including the clutch lever(which I called to confirm that they had in stock). On Friday the handlebars arrive and I pick them up from Alan's place. I go to home depot and buy the tools necessary. Saturday it's pouring rain and I trudge out to Harlem to get the rest of the items I need. They don't have my helmet size in stock so I order a helmet and plan to borrow one in the meantime. I work Saturday night and don't get home until 3am. I don't feel so great on Sunday, however, I leave the house at 7pm, again in the rain, to go meet Josue at Fern's garage and take care of the bike.
I get out to Queens and somehow walk in the wrong direction. Getting rained on, no umbrella and I can't figure out where I am going. I ask a man and he says he'll walk me to the corner and show me the street because the streets are weird in Queens. He does that, I thank him and move on. As I'm walking, I start realizing the numbers are going in the wrong direction. Someone yells my name and it's the guy that I had asked for directions. He apologizes and says he sent me in the wrong direction. The street dead ends there and we have to go around to a different point because it continues somewhere else. He says he'll walk with me there because he lives close by. We walk together and most of the time is spent with him saying he can't believe he sent me in the wrong direction and with me saying thank you for helping me out. He gets me to the right place.
In the garage, we fix the handlebars with some strain, as some screws are stripped, and then we have to apply the grips. I think we tried for two hours to get the grips to go onto the handlebars, but when the glue was applied they wouldn't budge. Finally, Josue reads the packaging and discovers that the grips just need soapy water or alcohol and the glue already inside will set. We laugh at ourselves and can't believe what we just spent time doing. We don't have soapy water, but Josue pulls out a small bottle of Jameson and we use that. Now I can say things like "This bike runs on Jameson"...
Once we get everything fixed, we go to start the bike and realize that the battery is dead. Lame. Josue says that one can push a bike to get the engine to start, but we're in a parking garage without a lot of space for that. He also says if we can get it to start he wants to drive it home tonight. I say it isn't registered so it's not worth the risk. Smiling, he pulls his bike's license plate from his bag. Alright, we'll use it.
There is a shallow ramp in the garage. We decide to use the ramp to give the bike some extra speed for starting. We push it up and down the ramp probably ten times, until it finally fully engages and the engines roars up. Josue asks if I want to sit on the bike and try engaging first to roll slowly forward. I do.
We take the bike over to a longer stretch of straight asphalt and I get on. I'm nervous, but I hold the clutch tightly and click into first gear. Very slowly, I begin to released the clutch. The bike rolls slightly, I begin, slowly, to turn the throttle and give it gas. The bike rolls more quickly. I grab the clutch and brake. Awesome. Now I'm ready to learn to ride.
Sunday evening, at 1am, we take the bike outside and prepare to drive off. Josue says he wants to ride it around the block to get a feel for it before he rides with me on it. It's drizzling out. He drives off. I'm waiting a while. He calls, the bike has stalled. He gets it started again. Now it's raining. I get on and we drive off. We stop by his house so he can get some rain gear. He drives me home in the rain. He drops me off and takes the bike home with him.
When he gets home he calls. The bike stalled 3 times on the way home but he think it's an oil issue. It's after 3:30am now.
It's the next Monday morning, I wake up early and print out insurance forms and get the title, in preparation for registration. I take the train to the DMV. I can't get the bike registered. I've left the print out of the insurance cards on my desk. Pissed off, I head to work. Josue drives the motorcycle to a local mechanic to get a full tune up and new tires.
Tuesday morning, I wake up early. Get my papers together, making sure absolutely everything is there, double checking. I take the train to the DMV. It isn't open yet and the line stretches around the block. Pissed, I get in line.
The line actually moves fairly quickly and I get to a DMV agent. Everything clears and they tell me the registration will be $142(yeesh), I give them my credit card and their machine is down. They ask if I can go get the money out and come back to pay. I say No, it's a credit card. They tell me to wait and they take the next customer. Their machine wont accept cash either. That customer has to wait.
They figure it out. They enter everything in manually. I get my license plate. I go to work.
Thursday morning. Josue comes and picks up the license plate and registration information. He's going to take the bike to get inspected. Thursday evening, the bike is finished with it's tune up and everything is running fine.
Friday, the bike goes in for inspection. It passes. I go to Alan's place and borrow a helmet.
It's now Saturday morning. We're going to drive out to the airport and I'm going to learn to ride. It's a beautiful day.
