Motorcycling and Real Estate

The Daughter I Never Had

The idea of motorcycling has always fired my imagination. As a young teen, I was trapped and constrained on every front. I wanted a motorcycle, but all I could afford was a green CCM three-speed with silver fenders.  My parents saw the rebellious James Dean and the wild Marlon Brandon; I saw Steve McQueen in On Any Sunday. I yearned in vain for the freedom of the open road.

When I finished high school, I worked as a construction labourer, attended university, married, and started a family. There was never quite enough money to go around.  When my daughters became teens and were desperate to escape my watchful eye, they hardly suspected that I too had yearnings that could not be expressed.

 Eventually, I bought a long-neglected 1973 650 Yamaha. I named her Cordelia, mostly to tease my daughters who had not read King Lear.

The joke came back to haunt me because the bike, unlike my daughters, would always break down and leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere. She was unfaithful, untrustworthy, and completely predictable. She took me on a magical mystery tour and left me stranded as far from home as possible. Instead of setting me free, Cordelia promised much and delivered little. I knew this in my heart and kept going back for more. I was hers.

Flower of the Mountain

My second bike was a completely restored 1972 CB 350 Honda. She looked good and garnered attention from every street corner. I had named her Molly Bloom before I had finished Ulysses. She was as safe and as docile as her Irish namesake was dangerous and ill-tempered. She didn’t capture my heart, so I sold her during one of Edmonton’s infamous March blizzards to the nicest guy in Edmonton. As he trailered her away, his smile was as broad as my wallet was full. Free at last, I thought.

She feeds me tea and oranges

My current bike is a 1990 VTR 250 Honda. She is fast and nimble and loves twisty backcountry roads. I know she’s pint-sized, but she feeds me tea and oranges all the way from China. I call her Suzanne because she’s touched my soul with her power and might. She’s also the only motorcycle I’ve owned who’s gotten me into trouble with the law.

If you need a REALTORÒ who has learned the hard way to drive the speed limit on 114^th St and 57^th Ave, give Greg Randall a call at 780-940-2929. His strength is helping people meet their housing needs.

www.GregKnowsEdmonton.ca