King Of The Road

So it was the spring of 1989 and I was in college living with my girlfriend Lona and 2 other girls at a house in Dinkytown (a campus-town near the U of M in Minneapolis).  I woke up unusually early one Sunday morning, sat up in bed and for no reason at all I suddenly decided that I needed a motorcycle…not just the little dirt-bikes and enduros I had previously owned but a real motorcycle and I wanted it today.  This was of course before the internet so I grabbed the Sunday paper and a pen and started looking.

So many choices...but then one personal ad jumped off the page and caught my eye…a 1985 Yamaha Maxim XJ700 with only 28 miles?  “This is not a misprint.” it said.  Really?  No way!  So I quickly called and a scared, meek little voice of an old woman answered.  I was puzzled and she was extremely nervous and unsure of herself, but I made arrangements to drive down to her house in Bloomington, MN and check it out right away.

Well Lona gave me a ride there and left when it quickly became apparent that I was going to buy the bike.  The deal was that this little, lonely old lady owned this kickass motorcycle and was selling it because her husband had bought the bike new in 1985, rode it once, and died of cancer.  She explained that it was his dying wish to own a motorcycle and ride it before he died.  He got to do that, but it had been sitting in their garage ever since because she was afraid to sell it.  She thought that when she put the ad in the paper she would be inundated with mean, leather-clad, biker-gang types coming over in the middle of the night, riding their bikes all over her lawn and making a lot of racket. 

After 4 years she finally worked up the courage to sell the bike.  I was the first person to come look at it and she was so happy to see that I was a nice, normal fellow who had no intention of hurting her or her lawn that she immediately took to me and hugged me, gave me milk and cookies, and proceeded to tell me all about her husband.  I was there in her kitchen for what seemed like hours as she told me all about his life, his sickness, and his death.  Then she wanted to hear my life story.  Eventually we came around to talking about a price for the motorcycle.  The thing was of course in mint condition and had been $3,000 new I believe.  She had only been asking $2,100 but she gave it to me for $1,800.  A way cool, basically new, black Yamaha Maxim 700 for $1,800!

I thought I was finally going to get to ride off into the sunset on my new bike, but then she said she had something she wanted to give to me.  She went upstairs and came down a few minutes later with a leather keychain that read:  “King Of The Road”.  She said:  "I know it seems silly..." and then went on to explain that she had gotten it for her husband after he died and put it in his Christmas stocking on her first Christmas without him...and she wanted me to have it.  So of course she starts crying and then I’m practically crying and we’re hugging each other and I was starting to think that maybe she was going to try and adopt me.  Then she insists on getting the camera.  So we go out to the driveway and she takes a bunch of pictures of me on the bike in various poses, and then she has a neighbor come over and take pictures of the two of us.

Finally it was over, we hugged some more, said our goodbyes, and as I rode off I was trembling with a mixture of excitement and sadness at how I got the bike.  I still have and love it to this day.  It has been my main bike ever since, I take good care of it, and often-times I think of that sweet old lady and her 'King Of The Road' when I am riding it.