Sunday, September 29, 2013

The business of the paperwork... I'm legal SON! :P

There is something about buying a one-way ticket to a place that immediately makes me a bit anxious...not nervous - but anxious. Knowing that the exact method, date and time of my return is entirely unknown is such a prepossessing concept and I simply can't wait to be in that space. Maybe the real cause for the anxiousness was not the ticket but the fact that after all this planning, work and expense...I have no legal paper work for this rig. Do'h! No registration, title, etc... just a bill of sale.

I left San Jose on September 26th with little fanfare and landed with just as much. It wasn't a direct flight, connection in Dallas and arrived in Boston at about 11:30 pm that night. My cousin was kind enough to pick me up and and hand over the keys to his truck which made the next part of this trek that much easier. This is the plan:

1. Pick up the rig the following morning at Madhouse Customs
2. Head to Vermont, about 3 hours north
3. Register the bike and get plates
4. DRINK and gloat :D
5. Do my mothers list of chores
6. Leave. ;)

There were about 3 states I've heard of that you can get to address this paperwork problem that has riddled many a manly man set on making a rusted heap into something that makes him giggle. Some have gone the salvaged title route in states like Maine and Georgia and in some cases even swapped all the mechanicals and dress from one frame to another - ouch! I was fortunate enough to learn from my mechanic that there were tales of Vermont being a revenue strapped state seemingly friendly to my exact predicament. :)

So after dropping off my cousin at his place I cruise thru downtown Boston, the south end and eventually meander my way back to Mattapan where I grew up. I grab a Guinness and a shot of gran marnier from a bar threatening me at the door that they are about to close and I'll have to drink standing up - awww, the velvet rope of Boston is still in tact. Its so nice to be home. :)

Despite being among most Americans lists of "major" US cities, Boston is a strange bitty. Certainly historically, academically, technologically, architecturally and socially - Boston has always been a progressive city of note, and to be honest its still in my top tier of most romantic US cities - yet Boston is a ridiculously small city and remains a "Cinderella City" in that just past midnight the sidewalks magically roll up, mass transit shuts down and the parties are all over. It offers no explanation but just a blank stare of "um,...don't you have a real job to go to in the morning?...or would you rather get arrested this evening?" I have walked the 5 miles home from downtown more times than I can count.

So the following morning I fill up on my moms Haitian cream of wheat...heavenly - ask somebody. I head over to Cambridge, have some of Madhouse Customs delicious coffee, load up the rig and head north to Vermont. Here's a pic at the gas station headed up.



Surprisingly one tank of gas got me there and back, round trip...I was rather impressed with this Honda truck, at first glance I wasn't even sure the bike would fit on the bed but everything came together just fine.

Here's a video of the long story short... :P

I did have some issues figuring out the dual petcock situation on the CR750 race tank. On the way home with the bike on the truck I filled her up with gas. Headed into the gridlock called 93 South and started smelling gas...I look in my rear view and I see gas spewing out of the overflow/vent tube that protrudes out of teh top of these tanks. Its on there so fumes can vent but water doesn't get in and if gas sloshes out it will go down the tube and out the bottom of the bike. Well, apparently I haven't figured out how to shut off the fuel lines on the tank from Denmark...I blame the Dutch. Again.

One of the things I wanted to do while here was pick up a piece of jewelry I had left at a friends house some time ago. I swing by to grab it under the impression that she was busy heading out of town and I needed to make this quick - that couldn't be further from the truth. Instead she was under the impression that we were hanging out, which was fine by me except I had some impromptu plans that were developing via text as I was pulling up to her place. (Yes, I text and drive, everyone does - it CAN'T wait.) She made the executive decision to invite this other person as well and call another friend of hers to join. I'm going to try not to ramble and summarize this as quickly as possible. In a day we pass a thousand people on the street, random faces that blur into unrecognizable extras in our dreams. People we have nothing in common with and we maybe have no reason to know - these are precisely the people I surround myself with. My belief is that as people in America we can have a tendency to imagine our society to be so monolithic right up until some tragedy, injustice or just some plain old lunatic reminds us all otherwise. That people are out there living very different lives than your own. And your apathy, satisfaction and complacency is a direct reflection of your ignorance at best or your unwillingness at worse. I have been accused by most close friends for having the most eclectic people around me and every once in a while you get a combination that explodes into hilarity in the strangest of ways. This is exactly what happened tonight. Unfortunately I can't say much more than this (since they might be reading) to protect the identities of the guilty and until more states legalize marijuana. *gulp*

Anyways... lol, here's a pic of the bike in the South End of Boston...just down the street from the Middle School I attended.

So, I've got in about 6 hours of riding on her everyday since I arrived and I have a short list of things I need to address. Nothing critical just tweaking which I hope to take care of tomorrow. Other than that I found a set of floor boards and saddle bags which I am seeing if I can install in short order as they would improve the comfort factor exponentially.
 front floor boards w/ controls, so my feet sit flat as apposed to on the pegs, might appreciate that past day 1
matching rear set -  not that I need em...but for $35 for the whole SET...hard to pass up. My bike is pretty much a solo seat but who knows, if I ever decide to reinforce the rear cowl, I could mount another pad for a passenger and then these rear floor boards would be perfect. 
Scored these bags as well for $65...well worth it and will save me having to wear the backpack as originally planned. My back thanks me. Ya gotta love craigslist. 


Ok, well back to my list of chores my mother has drummed up: trimming trees, painting rooms, car repairs and finding a natural cure for her cat that apparently FARTS!...of all the cats, in all the litters. Smh.

I'm hoping to leave tomorrow (Monday) evening or worst case Tuesday morning. the sooner the better...the old lady is quoting me train rates for shipping the bike and reminding me that apparently I'm what she calls "black" in America and I should be more careful. Hogwash!

#HumansAintSerious

Its 11:36 pm on Sunday night in a house I have known since kindergarten. I'm taking a break from painting a kitchen and hallway I think I have painted at-least 10 times to write this real quick, I've visited family and friends, had dynamic conversations about activism and why our monetary structure is failing our society, my mother is muttering something about some warm bottled water and her cat just farted ...I'm ok with this.

:P

P.S. by the way here's a pic of the cat, who strangely enough is called "Smokey" :/
it has a lil cute bell around its neck that apparently it doesn't need
(it also has fresh paint on its tail...grrrr)
Notice how it turns its head to the side in disdain for my presence as if the flatulence problem is my own...reminds me of a graphic designer who worked with me in Boca who's career seemed equally stagnated by the same condition.