Not a car, but a motorcycle: Harley Davidson Nightster

Right after college, I had a regular, big boy job and wanted to get myself a motorcycle. I had an 84' Nighthawk 650cc in high school and wanted something newer and little bit bigger. While still trying to figure out what I wanted, I decided to stop at a Harley Davidson dealer when I was out and about one day. I went in and was ready to look at the 883 Iron. I had read about them and wanted to take a test drive. After sitting on it and basically playing around, the cute sales girl walked over and started chatting me up. Did I mention she was cute, yeah, that was a bit of a problem for a single guy right out of college.

She talked me into test driving the new, 1200cc Nightster. Before I knew it, I was sitting on the bike, with a loaner peanut shell helmet, that was too small and barely sitting on my head by the way, and facing traffic about to pull out of the parking lot to do a test lap around the next door mall. I thought to myself, this shouldn’t be too bad, it’s a freaking Harley, those are fat, slow bikes. I revved it a bit as a car slowly came around the corner on the street and stopped to let me out. I got a little nervous with the car sitting there and gave it a bit more gas than I should have.

I flew across all four lanes of traffic, hoped a 2 foot high barrier of concrete landscaping stones and just missed a massive tree, before getting a hold of the clutch and brakes and coming to a stop with my head 1 foot away from the back edge of a flat bed trailer. I took a breath, my front wheel under the back of the tractor trailer, but not actually touching anything and the bike seems fine. I see a large gash on the top of my right boot, where I can see my sock through the hole and I realize my helmet is gone. I look over my shoulder and it’s hanging from a broken branch on the tree. Somehow it caught it while I was flying over the little wall. I ran back and to get it, look around to see if anyone at the dealership saw. The car that stopped apparently went one his way and no one seemed to be paying attention, so I hopped back on the bike, took it super slow around the mall parking lot, you know to keep up appearances and pulled back into the dealership lot.

I parked it, walked up to the counter where the sales girl was, handed her the keys and said, “I don’t think it’s the bike for me.” She gave me my license and started to stay something, but I walked back to my car and drove off, before anyone look at the bike. It looked fine to me, but that doesn’t mean anything.