My dad bought a Harley a few years ago at a charity auction for Muscular Dystrophy at the ripe old age of 57...having never even SAT on a bike before. When he rang to tell me, the conversation went something like this...
Dad: Guess what, i bought a Harley.
Me: A WHAT???
Dad: A harley!
Me: WHY???
Dad: It was for charity...
Me: Couldn't you just write them a check?!?!?!
Dad: That's no fun...
Me: Oh well, you'll probably never ride it anyway.
Dad: Oh no, that's the best bit, the owners of Morgan and Wacker (bike dealers here in town) live in our building...they're going to teach me to ride.
Me: Oh boy...
Dad: Oh yeh, it's going to be cool. Nan (my stepmother) has already gone out and bought all the leather gear, it's going to be really awesome.
Me: Oh well, you live right on the Brisbane river. Chances are you'll be riding home one day, miss the garage and end up in the drink anyway and that will be the end of that.
Dad: Bitch... (and hangs up in my ear)
LOL
He sold it two years later without ever riding it after a similarly aged friend of theirs bought himself a motorcycle, took it out for a ride one day and didn't make it back alive.
