I came out to jump on my favorite ride to work (one vehicle away from the evil NYC Parking Tow-Lady) and upon pulling away felt the familiar drag of a low tire. I made it to the nearest gas station and filled it up enough to make it to the motorcycle shop.
They took their sweet time determining that the tire had to be replaced and that they didn’t have one in stock. It was the perfectly wrong day to have vehicle hassles. Little did I know that soon the tire would be the least of my worries.
While standing at the service counter, calling the other motorcycle shops around town for a tire, the mechanic was putting the wheel back on Suzette. He had her up on a lift, about 4 feet off of the ground. I was calling another shop when I heard the mechanic shout “Ohhhhhh!!!”. I turned my head just in time to see him reaching for Suzette as she toppled over the side of the lift and fell to the concrete floor. I was in shock. It was like you always hear and hate to experience. The surreal, almost dreamlike state of disbelief.
There she lay, on her handlebars and seat. The aftermarket windscreen surrounded the wreckage in small shattered pieces; the wheel rolling eagerly away from the awful sound and mess.
The mechanic was very apologetic, but the rest of them were more or less business as usual, I’m sure to mitigate the anticipated anger they figured I would display, though I didn’t. I was too deep in shock to do much more than peer over the counter with my hand over my mouth and my eyes fixed on the pile as 6 guys negotiated in heated Spanish as they tried to right her without causing more damage.
The service manager promised to replace every part that needed replacing. I considered calling my insurance to call their insurance, but I didn’t know how that would affect the situation. I chose to trust the guy, but verify with a good walk around and itemization of the damage with one of the managers.
I’ll be without Suzette’s services until she is rebuilt. Hopefully that will be a short time. I still can’t believe it happened.