I was looking through a local pawn shop a couple of years ago when I passed this rather beat-up and forlorn looking motorcycle. I went to ask it why it was so depressed and it told me that it had been sitting there on the pawn shop floor for over two years and nobody seemed to want it.
I told it, “Well, let me look at you and see what we can do to fix that.” So it rolled out of the cluster of bicycles where I could take a better look at it. It proceeded to tell me that its previous owner was a moron: “Just look at what he did to my tank and foot pegs. He dang near destroyed me because he didn’t know how to ride.”
“Yes, I see that, but buck up son, those things can be fixed.”
“Yes, but the people here in this motorcycle hell won’t even blow the dust off of me every once in a while. My battery is dead, my carb is gunked up, and would you just look at my front tire. It hurts just to stay on it because I have no tread on it any more.”
“I feel for you buddy.” I said to it. “But that too can be fixed.”
“But only if someone would buy me who knows what they are doing.” At this point a small stream of fork oil began seeping down the right fork as it began to cry. “I’m sorry, but this two year old gas in my tank has been giving me digestion problems and no one seems to care about a poor old single cylinder Savage like me.”
I couldn’t take it any more. My heart went out to it and I immediately found an employee of the pawn shop with the intention of giving them a piece of my mind for neglecting this poor little guy, but instead I asked how much, and bought it.
As I loaded it up onto my truck, who thought it was about time I bought him a baby brother the stream of fork oil increased as the bike cried more but this time in happiness. Being careful not to hurt its poor abused tires any more than I had to I strapped it down and brought it home.
I immediately flushed out the gas tank and cleaned the carburetor. Replaced the battery with a brand new one and put on new tires front and rear.
“Aaahhh, that feels so good.” The bike said as I drained the oil and put in two quarts of fresh Quaker State 10w40. “Thank you so much.”
“You are very welcome, do you have a name?”
“My previous owner did not give me one.”
“Then I shall do so. I dub thee The FireLizard.”
“I like it, thank you.” I then straddled the newly dubbed FireLizard, turned the key and pressed the starter button. VVVRRRROOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!
To this day I have not regretted giving my heart to this remarkable motorcycle. The FireLizard has had it’s problems, but with time I have helped it solve them and I have rewarded it with certain modifications that are pleasing to us both. Such as a Road King tank, girder front end, homemade forward controls, ten inch mini apes, and front bullet turn signals.
We ride together practically every day, from just pleasure rides, to running errands, and when I am working, the FireLizard happily takes me to work and safely home again.
Before
Now
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