TGIF

I had a totally crap Friday, actually, and most of it was my fault which didn't make it any better. My wife had made an appointment to see her rheumatologist in Miami the same day I finally got an appointment to get the Bonneville it's 12,000 mile warranty service. I tried to get it into the shop in June and couldn't get an appointment so now it has 14,000 miles on the clock. I also tried to persuade my wife I should ride to Fort Lauderdale, but I couldn't come up with a reason why it would somehow be better if I were to ride the Bonneville and have her go alone in the car. I really enjoy the ride and going for a service is a great excuse to get on the road. We did the sensible thing and I loaded the motorcycle into our trailer and off we went, together. We left the house at 5 am, I dropped my wife off at the doctor's in south Miami at 8:30 and i arrived at Pure Triumph an hour later. I waited for the shop to open and was first at the service desk to sign the paperwork and get back on the road to south Miami to pick up my wife. Things went a bit wrong and I was told the motorcycle might not be ready by closing time even though I had booked ahead with that stipulation. 170 miles each way adds up to a lot of mileage for a return trip. I got a bit snotty I'm afraid and the owner ended up promising the bike would be done before closing. I left angry that I'd had to make a scene. I hate drama and being the cause of it makes me hate myself.

I picked up my wife at the doctors' without a hitch which was good, because she told me she had left her cell phone at home so I had no way to get in touch with her when we separated. That's a sign of the times. When we're without a cellphone we feel crippled. I hate technology.

Then we did the mainland shopping routine. Target, Macy's, Linens and Things,The Container Store, Costco and some other places I can't remember and at every single one, our credit card transaction needed voice confirmation. Man I was mad. We interrupted an attempted fraud last month and this was our new card and apparently they were keeping a close eye on us. Grrrr. I spent a lot too much time fiddling at the check-out in all these places, waiting for approval, suffering the glowering of other customers wondering who were the dorks holding them up.

Then, with the car groaning under the weight of all the packages we rumbled north back to Pure Triumph in Fort Lauderdale, a place that was giving me a knot in my stomach. That pissed me off too, because I like the shop, I like hanging around the Triumphs and Ducatis on the rare occasions I'm in Fort Lauderdale, and now I was so grumpy at them I didn't want to see them ever again. Grrr.

Instead they were very polite and explained the misunderstanding to me and presented me with a gleaming, purring Bonneville. I felt like a total worm because my determination to get the bike back the same day had put the mechanics back on their backed up schedule and on and on. They agreed not to promise a same day turn around on major services in the future, and I agreed not to expect that on the next one at 26,000 miles... Then came time to pay and the credit card fiasco intervened again and we were on the phone and couldn't get approval for the bill. This one was better for me because I got to wander around as we waited, and apologized profusely to everyone while admiring the bikes on display.

It turned out the credit company called my wife's cell phone early in the day to make sure the transactions were legitimate but as she had forgotten the damned thing at home... they had to hand process each cursed transaction. Bad for them, crazy making for us. They take fraud seriously, so should we all.

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Then I got to drive home, I was the frustrated motorcyclist behind the wheel, who in truth was so completely knackered at this point he was secretly glad to be hunkered down, all air conditioned, with satellite radio to lull the wife to sleep while he drove. However the Maxima was getting crap mileage towing the 500 pound Bonneville and I watched in astonishment as the gauge plummeted all day. As we were cruising south, homeward, on the Turnpike looking forward to Mexican food in Homestead my wife announced brightly: " What's happened to the gas gauge?" We were so far out of fuel it was off the scale. We slowed down and tottered down the turnpike looking for a gas station and of course there were none. "I feel like a teenager again" my wife said brightly. "Our credit card doesn't work and we're running on fumes." I felt like an idiot as I haven't run out of gas ever, in the past thirty years. Will this nightmare never end? I asked myself as we pulled into a gas station that finally appeared next to the highway. That was when I had the bright idea of refilling the Triumph while it was still on the trailer and the nozzle was at an angle such that the gasoline blew back. A lot of mid grade 89 octane blew all over me at $4.28 a gallon. My wife ran and bought a jug of water as my whole face was burning and I was blinded and spitting gasoline in agony. Thank God It's Friday indeed!

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Its the blessing and the curse of living in the Keys- the ability to drive north and have the whole world of big city shopping at your fingertips. Some days the adventure is just too much.