Burning Desire

He had it bad, this young man I've gotten to know at work. Real bad. He'd met Naomi, so he called her, on the internet and she got her hooks into him deep. That kind of thing can happen these days, with all this on-line stuff, everybody facebooking their business, and their booty for anyone with a browser to browse. A young man filled with burning desire shouldn't be torturing himself surfing the net in the first place. "Focus on your goals, and don't get distracted, especially when you are so close," I cautioned him one afternoon.


"Yeah, you're right," he'd said staring at his feet. "This is not the time, I gotta finish school." He looked up, "Man, you sound just like my dad."


"I'll bet," I thought as I watched my words go in one ear and right out the other. It was like Mr. Badger scolding Mr. Toad. I knew it wouldn't stick. It was like spitting on a forest fire. This kid had it bad, and he was going to have to learn this lesson, like all young men, the hard way.


So when Friday afternoon rolled around, I wasn't surprised when he came by and with a suggestion that we go by and meet her. He'd been texting madly for some time and snapped his phone shut and said, "Come on. She's only ten minutes away. Look, if you're not impressed I'll walk away. I swear. But she's so beautiful."


"Okay," I agreed. "You got some money?"


"Right here," he smiled as he waved a very fat wallet.


Truth is, his fire had sparked me too. I mean, I'm old but not dead. I sucked in my gut just a bit. Maybe Naomi, or whoever she really was, would prefer an older more experienced man. Geez, look how I'm thinking. Men, we're all dogs, even the old ones.


We hopped on our bikes, fired up and headed for Eastside. I knew the place. It's on the industrial side of town. All the places out there are the same; one jammed right next to the other with potholed gravel parking areas and high chain link fences fitted with privacy slats. When we rolled up "Naomi" was outside apparently showing off her wares to someone else. Still I could see why the kid had been struck. She was older than I'd expected, but still alluring in a slinky sort of way.


She was a 2000 Victory. A big 92 on the side showed the size of her jugs. All blacked out, she was looking wicked all right. The owner of the tow yard stepped over to talk to us. The kid was pretty quiet. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. The bike was a repo with a clear title. If she checked out on my inspection and test ride, he'd be riding home on her the following morning.


A closer look, however, revealed that Naomi had been around the block a few times. There was evidence of a minor crash and there were quite a few tweeker fixes. The ignition switch, for example was an automobile switch wired in where the original had been. The brake line in front also seemed to have been tweekerized as well and hung loose between the forks like a bra strap. Still, she fired up well.


Maybe these were just cosmetic blemishes on an otherwise sound chassis.  I rode carefully out of the yard testing the brakes and steering before even shifting out of first. Working my way up to third, the 92 inch motor sounded good, but I expected a little more power, and I detected a little miss. Two blocks later, however, she was acting like a tramp from the Eastside, a cough, and then nothin'. Just out of sight of the yard she went cold as death and left me by the side of the road. After checking for gas and fiddling with the tweekerized switch I called the yard and told them where me and their girl could be picked up.


"Weird," the owner said, "we've been riding her all week and having loads of fun."


"Maybe she's only good for short flings," I noted.


A little messing around and we found a broken wire near the front blinker that might have shorted out the fuse. But my young friend and I didn't stick around long enough to find out for sure. 
Back at the yard I said, "I don't think she's the one for you," stating the obvious.


My young friend was true to his word. He'd kept his wallet in his pants and without looking back, he walked (rode) away toward whatever young men do on Friday nights. Maybe this guy will mature into a wise man sooner than I'd thought. When it counted, he'd mustered up the strength to walk away from a bad relationship. I rode off the other way feeling some of his disappointment. It would have been cool to have rescued that bike run around with that babe for a while. Yet I was feeling pretty good about things too.


It's Friday. Think I'll wash my bike and then flirt with my wife.