At around 6pm last night, I noticed the doorway was darkened by a large shadow of a man.
“Oh yay!” I thought to myself “Dinner is here. That was quick.” Considering I had literally just put down the phone from our local friendly Thai establishment.
But it was not the delivery man.
It was a large Bikie.
Of course it was. I asked if I could help in in any way. To my silverware? To my piggy bank?
Turns out the bike was here to ride Mr Woog’s Ducati, which he had decided to sell. It transpires that Mr Woog’s Motorbike Racing *career* was coming along so well, he had upgraded to a Triumph and we had more bikes than we had licences.
The bikie had driven from two hours away and was accompanied by his bike lady friend. Both declined a cup of tea before heading out to the garage.
“Nice PJ’s” Mr Bikie growled at Harry as he passed him in the hall. Of course the bikie would say that. Harry’s jammies had motorbikes on them.
I left them to their bike discussions. After a while I heard the roar of the Ducati as the Bikie span her around the block a few million times, much to the delight of all of our neighbours.
I dashed out to the garage so I could chat to the Bikie Lady. I was determined to get the skinny on having your house shot up. Bikie lady grew up in Bikie Clubhouses. Her dad was someone very important in these circles.
I asked why she had to go bike shopping when she could be at home watching reality TV. She told me her boyfriend always left her with the vendors as collateral in case he was tempted to piss off with the bike. She was quite pretty, so I said I thought Mr Woog might consider just a straight swap and we could live our lives a-la Big Love.
At this point, I could see it in Mr Woog’s eyes, the look he gives me when he silently pleads me to shut up.
Before she had finished telling me some tales, her boyfriend came back. He got off the bike and started prodding and poking it, pointing out all the things that was wrong with it.
I immediately knew what he was doing. The old lets-point-out-all-the-flaws-before-we-start-negotiating trick. I know that trick.
I INVENTED THAT TRICK! That is how I got the Mazda at such a good price.
Before he finished I butted in and told him, that should he choose to buy the bike, I would throw in Jack’s Pushie for free!
Mr Woog looked very uncomfortable and told me he thought he heard the kids calling my name. I excused myself from the garage and went inside to find the kids watching TV silently.
Half an hour later, Mr Woog came back inside. The Bikies had gone. The Ducati was still in our possession. Mr Woog was pissed off. I suggested he take the bike up to the Dealership and let them dealership with it.
This morning, the bike is still for private sale. I can see this situation providing me with blog fodder for weeks to come.