I’d “leveled up three times” while shopping for a used motorcycle. I began looking for a gem amid cobwebby ’80s era GL1200s. I’d slowly trod a path of increasing complexity and superior machine. This meant increasing technology (which wasn’t the goal) and expense (to which I’m allergic).
I was on a test drive. I’d found an absolutely excellent 5th Generation Goldwing GL1800.
Everything went haywire!
This particular motorcycle was (in my humble opinion) the best example I’m likely to find in my budget. (Actually a little above my budget.) An optimal compromise between cheap and well maintained. I liked the color. It idled like a whisper. Power was like a nuclear reactor. It bristled with dials and knobs. It was (almost) flawless.
Goldwings are so heavy they have reverse gear and legitimately need it. Yet they’re well balanced. A beached whale when parked, they’re manageable in motion. All that mass and power meant it didn’t adapt to the environment so much as create a warp bubble around itself. It shrugged off wind like a brick wall.
There were no particular flaws on this bike. It had a few scratches. At 70,000 miles it had endless life left in it.
I rode the beast thinking hard about the purchase. Every bit of my research had been proven true. Every step of the path came about in logical and intelligent procession from the one before.
Something was wrong.
I was miserable!
The sea of buttons (mostly) functioned perfectly. Did I really want them?
The LCD screen did a “greeting display” on start up (and there’s a menu stetting to change it). What’s the point of that?
There was an LCD screen and the analog dash and a million digital things on the dash too. There was air suspension with two pre-sets, reverse, CB, AM, FM, cassette (or maybe it was a CD changer, I forget), cruise control, gear display, saddlebag open indicator, and more. Gadgetry spread out before me like a computer workstation.
I spent a few miles testing every damn switch (two had minor issues). I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the radio. I could mute it which is functionally the same. But it’s NOT! It pissed me off that the LCD displayed the FM channel I no longer heard.
So I clicked a few buttons and now I was looking at a display of the the ambient temperature; which seemed redundant. I know the ambient temperature… I’m in it! I still wonder if there was an “off” button I never found?
The cruise control on/off button stuck a bit. As with the radio I hit the cancel button to get functionally the same behavior from a different control.
After a while I had it on cruise and was surfing FM stations. The bike rolled on like a force of nature but something felt “off”. Nervous energy was getting to me. I was playing with the radio to distract myself.
My stomach was churning. I was increasingly frantic. I thought maybe it was the price. I have enough money to buy this bike but just barely. I don’t like spending money. “Wasting” money on frivolities is brutally against my nature. Nothing seems more frivolous than a bike with a “boot up” display!
The radio was blaring Tom Petty. I appreciate the miracle of clear audio at 75 MPH but it just made me madder. Petty sometimes weirds me out. I see him as the apex of a boomer half-artist. Petty is always a solid base hit but he never swings for the bleachers. He’s the 401(k) of rock stars that never tries a lyric or note that might scare the normies. I began to long for Jimi Hendrix or Tchaikovsky. Did I miss the roar of wind or the steady rumbling engine of my old cruiser?
My eye twitched. I began to sweat. This was not right!
I’m trapped in an elevator; listening to an OK song while an OK life played out an OK day.
WTF made me think that!?!
The bike was effortlessly swishing down a two lane blacktop through proverbial amber waves of grain. Why wasn’t I laughing in the sunshine?
A meadowlark flapped away from my wake unnoticed.
This was the correct choice! I’d driven hours to this rendezvous. I had money in hand. The bike was perfect. I’ll never get a better deal on a better example of a better machine. Nothing weird to be discovered. No mystery engine gremlins. It was flat out mainstream engineering perfection. What kind of idiot rides perfection and bitches about it?
I felt like hurling.
I rode back to the seller, who was chatting happily with Mrs. Curmudgeon. She expected me to start cutting a check. The seller did too. He’d represented the bike honestly and the price was fair. Every statistic, number, data point, budget, and observation had all worked out.
My stomach was roiling. My head was pounding. I felt faint.
Grim determination seized me. “Just get this done and ride the fucking thing home. Don’t go on some weird vision quest. You can afford the obvious mainstream solution. You’ve earned something nice.”
A different determination fought back. “I’m nobody’s bitch. I hate how I feel. I won’t be backed into a corner on ANY deal.”
I stepped off the bike and handed the seller the keys. He was beaming and so was Mrs. Curmudgeon.
My mind was whirring. I haven’t felt so miserable in a very long time. OK bigshot, what’s it going to be?
“Your bike is perfect. Sadly, I’ve decided not to buy it.”
Everyone froze, even our dog felt a disturbance in the force. Everyone (including the dog) looked at me like I was a space alien. “Honey, you always freak out with big purchases, we can afford it.” Mrs. Curmudgeon has seen me get cold feet about financial decisions before.
Maybe that was it? I grew up mildly poor. I’ve had moments of absolute destitution. There’s a special dread only a person who’s been broke can harbor. If you’ve been there you know. If you don’t you don’t. Was that it? Probably. It made sense. Just the generic gut churning feeling I get whenever I cut a big check. Shake it off big fella’!
I wasn’t so sure of that. Maybe it was something else. Was it a superstitious foreboding? Was this the bike that would kill me? (The feeling was that strong!)
All I knew is that something was very wrong. Boring Tom Petty songs and careful studies of torque curves had put me in a place that wasn’t right. I’d built a path and then a track then rails and finally sideboards and now a cage. Cutting that check would lock it in for good!
I’d been on a bike where I didn’t see the meadowlark.
I felt like I’d briefly died and then coughed back to life at the juncture where I was supposed to cut a check. Everyone waited indulgently. I’m deeply appreciative of their indulgence. They were patient and kind while I had a war in my head.
Mrs. Curmudgeon was convinced I’d snap out of it. The seller was politely bemused. No need to push the sale on the weirdo losing his shit in the driveway. He’d sell the bike one way or the other.
Why do people do stupid things? Because they don’t stop doing stupid things. They get locked into a path; take each new step based on the last one. They lose the ability to change direction.
Fuck this! I shook the seller’s hand, apologized profusely, and retreated, sweaty and shaken, to our car. Mrs. Curmudgeon drove away slowly. She was giving me time to come to my senses and buy the bike. I was uncertain what the hell had stirred my pot. I was exhausted. I watched the bike recede in the distance. I was embarrassed by my crazy behavior.
Inside I seethed. Tom Fucking Petty? Not yet! I’m still me! I’m beholden to nobody.
After a few miles I calmed. Buying the bike would have been an irreversible choice (I’d have used up my budget). Walking away was just temporary. Things weren’t that bad.
Worst case scenario, I keep all my money and still have two awesome motorcycles.
Well played; I give a thankful nod to the half of my brain that won the war. I lost nothing but dignity. Some other Goldwing might cost a little more and that’s it. There’s always another Goldwing. Honda made 640,000 Goldwings. New ones are made daily. They’re not cheap but they’re hardly rare.
I was certain a Goldwing is the best choice but maybe not now. One’s life doesn’t happen all at once. I don’t have to lock one in immediately. If I buy something technically inferior in the meantime that’s OK. If I get a fucking Ducati it’s nobody’s business but mine and the chiropractor that’ll benefit from it. If I buy something unreliable then I’ll deal with mechanical issues… my Dodge got death wobble and I lived through that.
I’d begun to dislike the path I was on but I’d locked down my own thinking to just that path. The person most likely to screw you over… is you. I’m glad I walked.
Was my action logical? Nope? Intelligent? Maybe not. Do I regret it? Not a damn bit!
The hunt continues. (Actually it’s done now but I haven’t written the rest.)
More later..
P.S. An hour later the seller texted that the bike had been sold. Whomever bought it will surely be delighted. It was a good bike.
Neighbor is selling an near perfect 03 with 56K on it and a metric assload of spare parts. $6700. I said no.
I sold a great riding heavily modified 50th anniversary 2000 2yrs ago for $3000 cash. They’re literally everywhere, for nearly every price. I have the money. I have the credit. I also own the state of WV 5 digits in taxes and get 60mpg out of my paid for ’20 KTM 390 Duke. When you’re ready, your next bike will find you.
You weren’t peaceful about it. Quite the opposite. When I get that feeling I trust that God is trying to tell me something. I think you made the right decision to trust your heart.
I am still not comfortable calling Honda’s smallest car a motorcycle.
Great decision!
Motorcycles are for enjoying. No fun = no future fun.
Good on you.
I agree with the above, maybe your intuition was telling you this decision for THIS bike may have been the wrong one to buy. The buttons which were aggravating you would likely be bugging you every time you rode. Your current bikes give you a sense of freedom and happiness.
Why should your blacktop ride be any different ?
P.S. – Angus McThag, if you think that GL1800 is too big to be called a motorcycle, check out the Roadsmith trike conversion of that Honda. Big honking bike ! My wife has one of those and I’ve ridden as a passenger. Sitting up there, I feel like I’m riding on a commode with no walls. Do not care for that feeling at all.
get yourself a PC800 Pacific Coast
Winner winner chicken dinner!
As I read your previous post, I kept wondering why you wanted to step up to the GL1800. Yes it’s a really good bike, and a big advance over the GL 1200, but as you described it in this post, it has barriers between you and what you want your bike for. You want to drive the bike, not ride the bike. You want to feel like you are moving this bike from point A to point B, not feel like it’s carrying you there. You’re like a small plane pilot who is looking to fly an F-14. Sure it is generations behind the current jets of today, but the difference between piloting a Cessna and flying an F-14 is huge. You still want to feel like you are flying the plane, not riding along making decisions on where to go. The technology gets in the way of that. I feel the same way driving my wife’s car. I’m not driving it, I’m just a passenger making sure it doesn’t take a wrong turn at Albuquerque. In my car, I make the decisions.
as we go thru life we get “hints” continually. i don’t know where they come from but either we use them or we don’t.
Thanks for writing this. It really resonated with me – I’ve definitely bought something that on paper I was convinced was the ‘best’ option and was unhappy as a result. To your point the path isn’t inevitable and you don’t really lose anything but the opportunity by walking away.
I’m glad you liked it.
You did the right thing. I’m not looking for a JD or something like that–couldn’t afford one, anyhow–but I like my bikes to just be bikes. Only one of mine has a radio, & I’ve never turned it on.
I don’t want lean control, traction control, or any other control. I’m supposed to control the bike, not the other way around.
You’ll find the one that’s meant for you.
I agree with you. Simple is better to me too.
BTW: did you mean HD. Is there some bike slang I’m missing?
The JD is an early H-D bike, from the 1920s. IIRC, it had a total-loss oil system, about as basic as it gets; however, they were among the better bikes of the era. Lots were used for racing. Now they go for 6-figure numbers.
AC – many thanks (again) for sharing your stories and your gift of writing. I’d like to share my experience –
I believe that the freedom of getting about on motorized two wheels is highly individual, so our individual perspectives color what we seek and enjoy out of every adventure. Spent 19 years on Harleys (1982 Wide Glide and a custom chopper), and many interesting miles. Yep, they were ‘true’ motorcycles, with nothing except what was legally required to register them. Wife was along for many rides on her own motorcycles. 2001 was a year of many changes, one in which saw the HDs go back in trade to the dealer from whom I bought/built the bikes in 1982. Decided to take the plunge and try a new style of riding with a brand-new 2001 Goldwing GL1800, fresh from the factory floor of Marysville OH. Like your experience, I was bedazzled by the electronics. After about 10 minutes of futzing with the buttons, dials, etc. and nearly going off the road several times, decided then and there it was the last time I would touch anything on that control panel while riding – speedo/tach/odometer served me well for 20+years prior, they would do fine for the next chapter. Stuck with that for the next 19 years.
Getting back to riding, I soon found that beast of a machine can be a ballerina when called upon to snake through twisties and turns, nearly a LaZBoy on long stretches of back roads or interstates, can zoom away from trouble at a slight twist of the throttle, or stop on a dime if I had to (within the limits of physics). The first best part was my dear wife now WANTED to ride along in the seat behind me, giving up her two wheels, and was equally comfortable and enjoyed every mile, and how I am blessed to have had her along on the rides. The second best part of all this was it was QUIET, I was PART of the landscape, even able to navigate through herds of bison without pissing them off, or immerse myself in the sounds of the prairie. The third best thing was it never failed me, routine maintenance was sufficient; always ready to ride – just fuel up, push the starter, and GO. Never once was the weight or size an issue; both wife and I were able to get it upright from its side when practicing those maneuvers (learned in motorcycle safety course) – the right leverage is a wonderful thing.
Circumstances forced a turn of the page in life, regrettably having to trade two wheels for 4 wheels (2001 Mustang GT 8 cyl convertable stick) for those shared rides in the open air. The decision to change was a good one for me. I sincerely hope you find what fits, especially glad you can try before you buy. Sorry to read that the gadgets got in the way of you truly experiencing a ‘ride’ on the Goldwing. I never, ever understood riders running down the road with radio blasting; how can one be PART of the landscape with that going on? Eh, just an old fart, I guess.
-RB
I’ve had a long term case of lust for a PC, reinforced every time I see one on the road. My only ride these days is a PCX that I hang on the back of the RV mostly, or tool around the back roads on.
I have a 2006 Yamaha Royal star tour deluxe. I love it. But its a beast for short trips. On long trips it has cruise control and feels like im driving a recliner. It has monster sized hard saddle bags. Its paid off. I need something smaller and more nimble. But i cant bear to sell my bike. Eventually I will have 2 motorcycles, each tuned to the purpose i need them for. I feel this story.
Never discount that small voice saying “wait a minute”. Gut feelings are usually right.
I miss riding, but I have enough problems with distracted idiots trying to run over me while I’m driving a car. I no longer have the quick reflexes for motorcycle survival. Getting old stinks!
You made the right call. Technically, the bike might have been the greatest thing since sliced bread but if you did not like it then you wouldn’t get the full amount of pleasure from it when you rode it.
Mine is a 500cc Kawasaki ER5 – powerful enough to kill me, fast enough to thrill me and as old school as you like.
I looked at the Wings and balked too. Unlike you, I was committed to a cruiser and fully on board with a big bike. I have been on bikes all my life, I’m a good rider and the big machines will do things the little ones can’t. Mine is a bit of a pig around town but pigs are nice animals once ya get to know them. The electronics on the Wings are for fighter pilots, Asians and Clippers. I bought the Kawi 1700 V twin. It has a radio and cruise…and that’s it. No reverse, don’t want it, don’t need it. It’ll do a buck-twenty all day long without even breaking a sweat. Two beer keg cylinders, liquid cooled with an agreeable rumble the Wings will never have. They sound like sewing machines. I put gas in it and change the oil, done and done. I’ve driven it on terrain and shocked people by doing so. It’s off road capability is negligible…but I know what it can do and what it can’t.
I damn near bought a new Harley but balked on that. Then an Indian. It took me awhile to find my ride. You will find yours in your time.