Scrumptious Word Morsels

Fresh-picked and hand-delivered from the skies to your computer monitor, here’s today’s sunset captured in glorious 1s and 0s for maximum enjoyment. Thanks, God.

I’ve been putting this post off because I don’t even know where to begin, but I think we’ll hit the good first and then come back for the bad and the ugly.

So, I got a bike on Wednesday! And it’s pink, and it has training wheels and streamers and a horn and… not really. But I could get all those things if I wanted them, and this bike would still be badass. (Since badass is in the dictionary, I figured it was probably OK to use it on a PG-rated site.) The motorcycle is a 2005 Suzuki GS500F in black and red, and it’s only got about 1800 miles on it. Practically like new. Let’s see some pictures, shall we?

Unfortunately, the carport where the bike is parked in the pictures is probably where it’s going to stay for a few months. For you see, mine is a tale of gross incompetence and blunder by our prestigious community college, which I’m no longer proud to say I attended for three years. I was signed up to take a basic riding course offered through Pima Community College and sanctioned by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. For whatever reason, the course is taught on-base at Davis-Monthan AFB—as if PCC were too good to use their own wide-open parking lots. The timing of the class was absolutely perfect: I got my bike Wednesday, the first class was on Thursday, and the last two were Saturday and Sunday. I’d be licensed and riding on the streets by Monday of the following week. Or so I thought.

I showed up at DMAFB at 5:10 Thursday night in preparation for the 5:30 class. I didn’t know where I was supposed to go, and I like being prepared, so it was better to be 20 minutes early than 1 minute late. The rest of the students started trickling in around 5:25, and the instructor finally showed up right at 5:30. Everyone but me has a handful of papers and their passports. “Strange”, I think to myself, “but whatever”. After the instructor signed a few people in, he asked me for my waiver and my passport. “My waiver and my passport?” I ask. “What waiver?” Well, guess who didn’t get the memo! Yep, that would be me. PCC sent out a packet of information to every student in the class—every student except me, of course.

Now it’s 5:35 and I’m panicking. The passport (or birth certificate, which I also did not have on me) serves as proof of citizenship, and it’s required to get on base. I’m pleading with the instructor and the gears are turning as I propose all kinds of solutions. There was even an Army guy taking the class who offered to sign me in as his guest, but no dice. I promised the instructor I would produce a passport on Saturday if he’d let me in, but he wouldn’t go for it. He did, however, tell me that class would actually start at 6:00, and he asked me how far away I live from the base. When I told him it was thirty minutes north of there, he asked me if I could make it back in time (by 6:00). I didn’t stick around long enough to see this guy’s motorcycle skills, but one thing’s for sure: his math skills aren’t too great.

I went home despondent and pissed off, mostly because I knew the next available class wasn’t until October 2. Now it’s time to put Plan B into action, though. I know you’re wondering what Plan B is. You’re thinking to yourself, “He can’t possibly be stupid enough to try and teach himself how to ride.” If you were thinking that, you would, in fact, be wrong. I’m taking the written test at the MVD sometime this week to get my Class M permit, and I’ve already read through the manuals put out by the Arizona MVD and the MSF—twice. In fact, the MSF manual that’s available online is the exact same one they use in the class I’m (re-)scheduled to take. I also ordered Proficient Motorcycling: The Ultimate Guide to Riding Well from Amazon, and that’ll be here Wednesday. Finally, I have several friends who are experienced riders, and I plan to enlist their help as I navigate through the treacherous terrain of local parking lots.

Wish me luck! Oh, and if anyone needs some organs that are in good shape (good genes, no smoking, and minimal drinking), I think my friends have started a pool. Get in touch with them if you want dibs on any of the good stuff: the biceps, the face, the flowing locks, etc.

I cleaned the living room today and finally got rid of the last of the boxes and various piles of crap (not literally, don’t worry) left over from the move… which was two months ago. But now the room is completely empty except for a few random instruments stashed away in the corner.

I have no TV and no couches and no money to buy either, so I’m thinking I’ll just move the motorcycle into the living room and use that as functional furniture. It would see more action in there than it would on the street, but that’s another story for another day. A story for tomorrow, in fact. With pictures.

For a moment, let’s assume that I went and looked at a bike very similar to the one in the previous post. Oh, what the heck—since we’re just assuming, let’s say I went and looked at that exact bike, down to the year and the color. Now let’s assume that the aforementioned hypothetical bike was in perfect condition with only 1700 miles on it, and for a moment, let’s assume that I put down a $100 cash deposit towards the total purchase price of $3700. [Assumptions are fun, aren't they?]

Now suppose that the seller told me that there’s a lien against the title of the bike. If you’re not familiar with how loans work, this essentially means that the institution financing the current owner still owns the bike because it hasn’t been paid off yet. This presents an obvious problem for me in the area of titling. When I give the seller a certified check for $3600 (the price we agreed upon minus the deposit), I expect to receive the title in return. Well, since the seller doesn’t own the bike “free and clear”, she doesn’t have the title in her possession, either.

On the surface, it seems like the only way to resolve this is to have the seller take possession of the bike through whatever means she can. If that entails borrowing money from friends or family to pay off the remainder of the loan, then I think that’s what needs to happen. The heart of the issue is that she’s trying to sell something she doesn’t own! OK, but I really want the bike, so I’ve been scheming and trying to come up with a solution that will work for everyone. Even though I graduated from one of the best business schools in the country, they don’t teach stuff like this (useful stuff, that is) in the classroom. Here are my options as I see them:

1. Subtract amount of seller’s outstanding lien from sale price of the bike and pay this amount to seller. Pay balance of lien directly to lending institution and receive title in return. Example: seller still owes $2000 to her bank. Subtract that amount from $3600 to get $1600. Seller gets check for $1600, bank gets check for $2000, and I get a notarized title.
2. Go with seller to one of her bank’s branches and complete all paperwork on the spot. This could work, but it presents several problems:
   1. The transaction would have to be completed during normal banking hours, meaning everyone would have to take time off work.
   2. The lending institution could be located out-of-state or even online.
   3. The lending institution might not have the title on hand if, for example, it’s stored at some central location.
3. Give the seller a check for $3600 and trust that she’s going to make good on the lien and mail me the title when she gets it from her lender (usually within 15 days). Unfortunately, even though I like to think of myself as a nice guy, I’m no idiot. Remember, I’m the one who carried my pistol to our initial meeting after hearing about people using Craigslist to bait unsuspecting victims into armed robbery.

So what am I supposed to do? Does anyone have experience with dealings of this kind? I’m going to call my credit union tomorrow and find out how situations like this are normally handled, but I appreciate any and all supplemental input.

Gracias.

Not quite an SV650, but those are mighty hard to come by these days. Here’s a 2005 Suzuki GS500F, which I’m checking out tomorrow (and in the color configuration shown below, too). The more I research this bike, the more I like it. Detailed motorcycle post still forthcoming.

I found this exact bike in the Tucson area for a good price. It’s a 2003 Suzuki SV650, and I’m hoping I can strike a deal with the seller and become the proud owner of this bad boy. I intend to write a longer post about motorcycle stuff shortly, but just enjoy the pictures for now.

Am I thinking about it? Of course I’m thinking about it.

Check out this A380 made out of Legos. It brings back fond memories of building Lego creations as a child, except on a slightly smaller scale. The model is the largest Lego airplane in the world, measuring almost ten feet long and more than three feet tall. It’s made up of more than 75,000 bricks and weighs about 220 pounds. It took expert builders at Legoland 600 hours to complete, and it’s 100% awesome.

Thanks to Erik and Mike for this one. Let’s watch an enlightening lesson, mmmkay?