The clues took him all over the house, to the bottom of the pool, onto the golf course, down the street, and eventually back to the garage. Opening the garage door revealed the actual gift (it wasn't me after all):
Patrice and I spent several hours on winding rides through the Colorado mountains. He loved his bike.
L-O-V-E-D it. It was more than just a motorcycle. It was his first Harley. It was a very special gift, symbolic of the friendship between him and his boss as well as recognition of his hard work and dedication.
The relationship with that boss soured and Patrice found himself searching for other employment. We struggled together, but the bike did provide a nice cushion. If it came down to it, the bike was an asset that could be sold to keep us afloat. Once during our times of trial he actually advertised it for sale and declined to sell it to a guy who wanted to put different handlebars on it. It would ruin the bike and he just couldn't bear to sell it, knowing it would be altered. Fortunately, we were never so desperate that he was forced to give it up.
I didn't ride anymore after Nicco was born. I have a hard time putting both of my baby's parents on a motorcycle. But Patrice still enjoys having his knees in the breeze.
Time went by and we came to Arizona...an even better place for riding the bike. He can ride all year long and the winding desert roads are just as spectacular as the winding mountain roads. After The Big Ride a couple years ago, Patrice rode a different kind of bike and started longing for an upgrade. That's what happens with mistresses. They need to be replaced every once in a while with a newer model. One with more energy, a different look, a nice rear end.
Stars aligned in my husband's favor this fall so that he was able to get the new model without spending a dime out of his own pocket. His friend from back home commented that Patrice is the only person he knows to whom people just give Harley-Davidsons. The old bike was great. It served its purpose, but I think selling it was cathartic in a way. A page turned, a chapter closed.
After some negotiating and trading, Patrice discarded the old model and got his new mistress. He loves her. He caresses her. He adorns her and makes her shine. He shows her off to the guys. They envy him.
See? He likes her rear-end.
I'm glad he has her. She's good for him.
Now I need to go run. Or buy a new pair of jeans. I don't want to be replaced by a newer model with a nice rear end!
2 comments:
You are so generous to share your man with another lady love. :) I understand about not wanting both of you on the death machine at the same time. Nicco needs at least one parent to live! Little old ladies drive crazy on the roads and accidents happen. Jordan had a Harley for a bit but eventually gave it up when he saw how many idiot drivers there are on the road. He was concerned that if he died I would end up hooking up with some other dude. So he sold it. Men are funny! He had a lot of fun while he owned her though. :)
He misses the rides together more than I do and he tells me how extra cautious he is. I remind him that he's not the one I distrust on the road. My brother-in-law sold his bike after he had kids too.
One time Patrice said something about my bike anxiety and then said something about me not being nervous flying across the ocean all together. That's because we were ALL together. It's okay if we all go down in flames together!
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