Cooter sells a bike.

"Free things always cost you the most"

-SR

 Lord help me from murdering a fellow human today... I MUST let it out or you'll be reading about me on the news, and I don't mean NPR.



I got realistic about my 'motorcycle problem' and posted a few things for sale. One of which is a complete piece of shit, old, beat up, not-registered-for-a-decade, ex-wanna-be racer GSXR-750. From 1989. You remember 1989? I'm old now and had JUST graduated HS for Christ sakes, and this thing has been passed around the prison yard since I was spotting beers at the 7-11. Why not spray paint the whole engine silver from 5 feet away? Day-Glo flames? Mis-spelled "Susuki" in shitty Mandarin? I can't begin to get in the technical detail, but you get the picture.


At least $100 in zip ties have died on this bike. Weld the subframe to the frame? Of course! The "why" doesn't matter. I mean there isn't ONE thing thats nice on this turd and it should be put out of its sorry misery in trash compactor 3263827 on the detention level of the Death Star.
But it runs... dammit. 

The short backstory of this space-hogging-dream-killer is that with all my then-youthful ignorance, I got it from a friend of a friend for the princely sum of zilch, zero, nada. And it was worth less than that. 

Many years after that day, the only action this thing has seen is when a good friend brought over his bike to fix, but with an unfixable death rattle rod-knock. The only decent option for him to get home that night was to drag this shit pile bike out of its black widow infested corner, dash some fuel down the carb throats add a still smoking battery off the charger and dang if it didn't fire right up. I also gave him the pink slip. One, to avoid any law enforcement issues his third-strike ass may have with expired plates, and two, hoping it would disappear into the Ether with the strict instructions I didn't want to ever see it again.
Fast forward another half decade and he wants it out of his garage, where it has sat. Since the day it left my shop.

Sigh. Could I say no? Absolutely. Should I say no? Oh for sure, duh.

So I'm a masochist, and head right over to his place in the El Camino to tow it home. Air up the cobwebbed tires, slosh some fresh fuel to mix with the varnish, and wouldn't ya know it? That fucker still idles and runs perfectly. Sheesh. Don't you DARE give me hope you sonofabitch! Well age and 'maturity' eventually prevails so, I make the right choice to be free of this Succubus for good. Open Craigslist, post ad:

"Hey Vanilla Ice, come get your bike. 

I've had it for awhile. I'm a mechanic (a good one) so I just checked it out and it didn't take much to get it running. It's beat to shit with a salvage title but brakes and suspension seem to work well. It's got a Fox racing shock in the rear for track day bragging rights too. 

I drained the tank, oil, and carbs, to store it but have had second thoughts. I have a video of it running but bring gas, oil, and a battery if you want to hear it in person, otherwise get this crap out of my garage for cheap.
It needs to be towed and needs a bunch of work to be road warrior ready. You aren't riding it home but I can deliver for a fair fee. The pics don't do it justice, it is MUCH more shitty to behold in person. Bring sunglasses, and a satchel to collect the panties.
I don’t care if you need it for parts or want to try and get it on the road, but if you shave 80’s stripes in your hair I’ll give you $100 off. Seriously "

No shit I got 13 responses within a half hour. Thirteen! I got tired of explaining the situation to each hopeful sucker, so I thought a written record might be better:

"EDIT:
I’m getting a TON of interest and if the ad isn’t clear enough... this bike is complete, does run, and is beat to shit. 
I would NOT try to ride it without a bunch of work! Reg is many many years old and you aren’t gonna fill it with gas and start trackdays or get to work dependably. It needs a LOT of love to be safe and dependable and frankly should just be used for parts. I know it’s cheap. I know it’s sexy. There’s no better definition than Caveat Emptor."

The VERY FIRST text I get next:
"Hey man, I want to buy the bike"
Ok, cool. Are you bringing a truck? Or a helmet?
"A helmet"
Then you didn't read the fucking ad

Seriously. It's not worth the $700 i'm asking. I expected someone to do the 'offer-half' BS (and I would take it), but nooooo! Instead of the usual first come, first served BS... I give up and tell ALL thirteen people to meet me at the shop at 9am on a Saturday. Keep in mind, I usually haven't started even making my coffee by 9am on a Saturday so you can imagine my mood as I load up the bike in the back of Josephine Dirté and head to the shop.

Where I sat. Fielding messages. For 2 hours. Not ONE single asshole showed up.

At least we have a Pickleball court there so I got to watch old guys get sweaty. Thats a win?
One prospective buyer had the starter in his truck fail, 

another ended up in Riverside because he couldn't find Los Angeles International Airport (that is... 70 MILES the wrong way), one decided to buy a Mercedes instead of this POS. Oh, and a mom died of course.


Well actually a Mother-in-law so "no biggie"
Fast forward to me getting smart and heading home.

But first appointment, broken truck guy, still wants the bike, and BAD.
"Let me know when you're there and I'll meet you" starts the most ridiculous turn of events. I can't. I just can't... Brackets are my interjections.
He's coming from Chatsworth and for a normal person it is about 40 mins north, directly up ONE freeway from me.

8:20am
Meth: "I'm on the way now bro! I will definitely buy the bike." 
Me: We'll see. She's beat
[an HOUR and a half later...]
9:43am 
Meth: "I'm on the way. My starter is going out on my truck, I'm hitting it with a hammer and it started, WHEW! I'm coming fast! "
Me: Are you sure you shouldn't buy a starter with that money instead of a project bike? lol.
[30 more mins] 
10:34am
Me: You close? Been here for an hour and a half and I'm starving
Meth: I'm close. Grab something to eat. I should arrive when you get back.
[which means, NO.. he ain't close at all]. 
Me:Like 2 mins? 20 mins? Whats your GPS say?
[ten long minutes] 
10:43am
Meth: "Like 28 mins" 
[which means he left home an hour after he was supposed to be in front of me.]
Me: OK msg me when you get here.
[another HOUR later...]
11:39am
Me: And? Dude, you OK?
[another half hour]
12:08pm
Meth: "oh man!! I have to get a tow now [why'd ya stop?] my GF is racing down to pick me up right now!! and we'l be there ASAP! I'm 10 mins away and she'll be here any minute!!... "
[I purposely waited 20 more minutes] 
Me: Actually I have it loaded up and it has to get in your truck anyway so... where exactly are you? I'll come to you.
[SEE how desperate I am to get rid of this!?! and over another HOUR later]
1:51pm 
Meth "We're on the PCH. I have a friend working on it..." 
[huh? PCH? from Chatsworth? How TF?] 
Me: I'll just hang out
[another HOUR and a half]
3:21pm 
Meth "almost there" 
Me: [finally over it] ok
3:43pm 
Meth "bout ten minutes away" 
[I purposely waited 15 mins] 
3:56pm 
Me: Ok
4:00pm 
Meth "we have arrived. Silver Volvo". 
Me: Volvo truck?  I'm on the roof/parking lot, entrance around the corner.
[How are you getting the bike home? You KNOW it doesn't run. Now, keep in mind I walked to the edge of the lot and can see him now. It's 4pm. Not 9am. And daddy needs a beerski, I'm pissed]
[five long minutes]
4:05pm
 Meth "oh ya we just parked"
[five long minutes]
4:10pm me: You coming up?
[five long minutes]
4:15pm him "Yes, how do we get there?"
me: copy/paste... I'm on the roof/parking lot, entrance around the corner.
[six long minutes]
4:21pm him "got it"

21 fucking minutes to get 10 fucking yards after he arrived. Twenty one minutes. From where I could SEE him.

Now some of you may be thinking I'm too nice When actually I'm just a dumbass and a glutton for punishment I don't really need to sell this thing. I could scrap it at Pick-a-Part and spend the $23 recycling check on cheap whisky like I've done before, but at this point I just want to meet these people to find out what in the actual fuck is going on. Call me a student of humanity. 

The girlfriend is quick to apologize that she's the whole reason they're so late [] and I get an interesting one way conversation about guitars and astrology, but finally have to interject the nonstop diatribe to remind him why he's here in the first place. 

Oh ya. It takes money to buy things, and he didn't bring enough.

Dude

I manage to trade a couple hundred dollars for a deposit note and strict instructions if I don't see him in a week, I'm going to re-post it, and sell it to someone else, and keep his money.


To be continued?




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