shopping

Of course she does. Doesn’t she? If a woman knows anything, then she knows how to shop.

Aye, right!Image

I decided to do it in style. Buying a Harley-Davidson isn’t like going out to get some shoes and end up with some more shoes, a jumper, a coat, a sandwich toaster and a skirt. And maybe another skirt in a different colour.

A bike is a one and only job.

Only you….. and me!

So I went to the hairdressers (I needed an appointment anyway), I dressed in black and made my way to Rick’s., the Harley-Davidson dealer. Felt like a million pounds.

I could see a row of bikes though the window as I got out of my car. Temptation behind glass. Happiness was close and manifold.

Entering the massive showroom nearly took my breath away. But I tried to look as blasé as I could.

A guy came towards me. He didn’t look at all like someone who is selling a dream of freedom and power. More like someone who is selling insurance policies. Shouldn’t HD salesmen have tattoos all over their skin? Long hair? A dangerous demeanor about them? At least a beard?

What can I do for you? He asked clean shaven.

You can make me happy. I replied and added with a slightly cheeky smile: With a motorbike!

He grinned. Do you know what you want?

A Sportster 1200 forty-eight edition, black. I said as sharp and clear as possible. These were the magic words that would open up a new dimension for me. Like a matrix key or a spacecraft for another universe.

Coffee? He asked.

Yes! I grinned.

The deal was made. She was mine.

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