I went to Richmond Virginia with my good friend and neighbor Jim on April 21 to pick up the bike. Yes, Jim has a trailer and yes he let me borrow it. We both brought our sons for the adventure as well and so we loaded up his Cherokee and drove up on a beautiful Saturday. The bike had been living in an older neighborhood, but despite the surroundings it had learned to defend itself and survive.
The owner, another Jim, was a great guy and you could tell that he was sad to move on with his life and let this bike go. I promised it a good home, paid him his asking price of $2100, and took possession.
The bike of course was not 100%. It had recent work done but still had a few quirks. We fiddled around with a voltmeter until we were convinced we had all current to all turn signals since this was simpler than swapping a bunch of bulbs. A little note here, be careful. I didn't know it at the time but I popped a fuse. More on that later.
After a few trips around the neighborhood...or more accurately, da hood. I roared around a little park that had a pickup game of basketball being played. Ahhh, the sounds of boom boxes, chain link nets tinkling with every score and many a hearty shout of MotherF&*%#r !! ringing through the air. Nice. I was satisfied that if I could get this bike home to a safe suburban home in Virginia Beach, it would owe me for life.
We lashed it to a trailer and got home in the evening. I think it smiled.