Lessons Learned Fmt Epilogue

The finally installment of "Fuck Me Twice"


I never saw The Skunk 1 time again afterwards beingness hastily escorted from that dorsum alley wheel shop.  Which was likely a expert thing.  I worried it mightiness popular off along turning upward inwards my life, haunting me similar about mechanical apparition from which I would never move free.  Chances are it enjoyed a brusk silence inwards about scrapyard earlier beingness crushed as well as sent to China.  Rockabilly Rob was non smart plenty or well-heeled or ambitious plenty to possess got rebuilt it.  Maybe about of its parts ended upward on other machines allowing it to alive on equally an alloy as well as steel organ donor.

It doesn't actually matter.  There is no item nostalgia inwards my pump for that machine as well as I don't pino for about other one.  Not a specially keen motorcycle, neither fast nor sugariness handling.  It was heavy as well as ho-hum compared to the other two-strokes of the same era, the Yamaha RDs as well as the Kawasaki H as well as KH models.  That GT380 sticks out inwards my heed to a greater extent than oftentimes than non because it was the offset as well as (so far) exclusively motorbike taken from me.

I learned that no affair how crappy your materials is, how lilliputian you lot experience similar you lot have, in that place is ever individual with less that is willing to possess got it, along with whatsoever else you lot got, past times all agency at their disposal.  Not precisely a Hallmark sentiment, only truthful nonetheless.

My vigilance increased tenfold.  I became a savvy metropolis dweller instead of a victim, moving furtively alongside the thieves as well as cabs as well as cops, quicker than expiry or skullduggery.  The cost for this survival?  A lilliputian fleck of innocence.

Even the nearly unremarkable machine tin learn lessons.

  

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