Today was absolutely the last possible day to get everything fueled, cleaned, and packed in the garage. I didn’t think it was going to be possible: two cars, five motorcycles, plus any number of random items ranging from a child’s mountain bike to a 55-gallon drum of Quaker State NASCAR-spec racing oil, all in a smaller-than-standard two-car garage. Not to mention that it was snowing a bit.
Eppur si muove, motha ‘uckas!
This is what I think of as my “core fleet”, minus my Neon race car. With one exception — Danger Girl’s Yamaha — it belongs to me and my son, who demonstrated to me today that he has no trouble starting or balancing his new motorcycle, to my immense and sustained joy. It consists of the following:
- ’95 Carrera 2
- ’04 Boxster S “550 Spyder”
- ’75 Honda CB550
- ’07 Honda VFR800 Anniversary
- ’14 Honda CB1100
- ’15 Yamaha YZF-R3
- ’09 Yamaha TTR-90
There was just one way it was all going to fit, and discovering that way involved the proverbial shit-ton of moving 500-pound objects around in sub-freezing temperatures. Still, it’s all done with inches to spare. What I don’t see is room for a ZX-14R. Still, that’s why G-d gave us storage units.
Earlier today, we went to the Ford dealership and John declared that the white Performance-Pack five-liter on the showroom floor was “the coolest”. I had to agree. Even the stripes they had on it worked somehow. Also on the showroom floor: a like-new 2007 Shelby GT500. Amazingly, the sticker on the thing was just forty-three grand. That’s what a GT will cost you now. The Ford brand commands respect, and cash, nowadays.
Why were we at the Ford dealership? To check a seat fit for a new addition to the garage. It’s not my place to brag about it, because it’s not my car, but if you’re a fan of The Smoking Tire you’ll recognize it when it arrives.