Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Vanishing Act



"Be careful with that one," I said as Wooley and Steve hooked the lift to the old motorcycle to unload it from the trailer.

"Why?" Wooley asked, "ain't nothin' special about it is there?"

"Well, it just so happens that one talks," I replied.

"It talks?" Steve questioned, "What have you been smoking?"

"I think it was a prank," I explained, "but when I first found it, it was talking to me. Anyway, I think there's probably some kind of tiny electronics on it that might be fun to put on another motorcycle and maybe park in a parking lot or some place where lots of unsuspecting people walk past."

"Yeah," Wooley laughed, "we could do a video and put it on YouTube like Candid Camera."

"Maybe we could hide it on Donny's motorcycle so it talks to him while he's riding," Steve said.

"Doesn't Donny already think his motorcycle talks to him when he's riding?" I asked.

"I heard that!" Donny shouted from the back of the shop where he's just finished turning a crank on the lathe. When it came to precision machine work, Donny was the best of the bunch. Me, I can run the lathe and milling machine but Donny's 30 plus years as an old school tool and die maker put him second to none. Did I mention he's my younger brother? "So what's this nonsense about a talking motorcycle?" Donny asked as he walked to the unloading bay.

I went on to tell him the story of how the motorcycle asked me to take it home then burst into flames when I shook the battery cables. The idea that it was all an electronic prank made sense so as soon as we got it on the floor we started taking it apart and examining every piece for anything out of the ordinary. As the four of us have all been avid motorcycle enthusiasts, riders and self-taught mechanics for the last 40 years we were sure we'd soon find something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Problem was, we never did. Other than rust, crud and years and years of mud there was nothing on the old motorcycle that wasn't supposed to be there. After hours and hours of searching the old motorcycle from top to bottom and end to end the three of them looked at me and Donny asked, "Billy, are you sure you're not the one whose motorcycle talks to you when you're riding?"

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