One Spring morning I drove up to my office in New Canaan. 30 feet before my driveway a new store had opened and they had a 15 foot glass windowpane. Mounted on a green pedestal was the most beautiful motorcycle I had ever seen. I immediately pulled over and walked back to see what it was.  It was an iridescent pearl white BMW K100RS with a salmon red seat. I was in love again! It was called the flying brick due to the way it looked. The engine was on its side with the crank on the right side and the cylinder heads and valve gear on the left. This was a departure from the Boxer engines that had graced BMWs for years.

Two days later I had it delivered to my house. A week after that, my new BMW leathers, boots and helmet arrived. The first day I rode the K to the office I fell in love with it all over again.  I couldn’t wait for the day to be over so I could drive it again.

On the way home I passed a small side street that led to a few farms and with my peripheral vision I saw a car coming out of the side street headed right towards me. Everything started moving in slow motion. I saw the front of the car approaching me, and knew it was not going to stop. Somehow I lifted my right leg so it would not get squashed. I felt myself rising from the seat and letting the car go under me, taking the bike with it.

The next thing I knew was that I was lying on my side, with the bike next to me and the car on the other side of the road. I was pissed off. It was my brand new motorcycle! I said to myself, I’m going lie here to make it look like it was worse that it was and teach the driver a lesson. Then I noticed other voices talking around me. A woman was telling somebody, “Motorcycles are supposed to yield to cars, aren’t they?”

I decided that I’d had enough and tried to get up. All of a sudden arms started picking me up and carrying me to an ambulance. Where did the ambulance come from? Then I hear my wife’s voice asking the ambulance where they were going to take me. Where did my wife come from? 

Five minutes later we were in the hospital and my wife told me that she was driving home when she saw a poor motorcycle guy lying in the road with the driver of the other car screaming at a policeman that I should have stopped for her. Then my wife noticed that it was me, lying on the road. She barely recognized the bike, since I had only had it in the garage for a week and had not driven it around.

The doctor at the hospital came over and showed me my helmet. He told me that it had saved me from a much worse injury, and showed me the scratches where the road has scraped of 4″ of paint from my brand new helmet. Somehow I had avoided any lasting damage and all I had were some bruises.

I had the bike dropped off at the dealer. When they saw it they said that they were going to have to replace most of the plastic and it would take a few months for me to get it back.

Eventually I got it back and drove it around for a year before we moved again. The day of the move, when they tried to push it up the ramp into the moving truck, the bike fell off the ramp and landed on it’s back, breaking all the plastic all over again. The damage was all cosmetic, so it took another couple of months to replace and repaint. This time I asked that the bike be painted in a lovely blue/green color I had seen on a Mercedes in town.

I loved the bike, and the only thing I remember that I didn’t like, was the secondary vibration in idle. It sounded a bit tinny until the RPM got above 2,000. However, everything else worked well together. This bike made riding seem easy. A few years later when we packed up to move again I decided to sell the bike.

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