I have a confession to make. I have a wife and a mistress. It is a tortured life, and I would like to tell you about it. Let me start by introducing them both.
Fist, my wife; She is dependable, loyal, hard working, forgiving, and friendly. She is very patient with me, and loves me unconditionally. Who could ask for anything more? Who would?
Now, my mistress; She is wild. She is crazy. She is mean and selfish. Life with her is no fun unless it is frighteningly exciting. Who could ask for anything like that? Who would?
My wife is a Honda XR400. What a great dirt bike! It runs dependably, climbs hills effortlessly, and handles well. And it has a soft seat. That’s important when you’re old. Okay, older.
My mistress is a Yamaha YZ450F. What a fabulous motorcycle! It is fast, handles incredibly, and is state of the art. It has a hard seat. Did I mention it is fast? It is fast.
When I go into the garage, this is what it is like with my wife;
(Enter Kevin into garage)
Wife; “Hi, Kevin! Do you want to go riding today? It’s Sunday afternoon, and the sun is out. I sure could use a nice, easy run in the desert. How about it?”
Me; “You know, that does sound like fun. Let me ask Sherri. (The Real Wife)
It is quite different with my mistress;
(Enter Kevin into Garage)
Mistress; “Hey Doug, let’s go riding and you can show me your stuff, fast boy.” (She always calls me Doug, as in Doug Henry, outdoor Motocross champion, who won the season championship on a Yamaha similar to her.) This wouldn’t be bad, except for her smarmy voice when she does it. “Come on, Doug, you can go faster than that” or “That was a jump? Come on, Doug!”)
Me; “Um, well, it’s Friday afternoon, and Sherri (the Real Wife) and I are going-“
Mistress; “Come on, Doug, let’s just go!”
Me; “We’re going out to dinner.”
Me “Besides, it’s 104 degrees out!”
Mistress; “I’m water cooled. I don’t care. As opposed to her.” The Honda. She hates the Honda. She would like me to leave the Honda for her.
So you see it’s a tortured life. The wife or the mistress.
The wife likes long, easy rides. She likes hill climbing, too. And, she has a soft seat. That’s important when you’re old like me.
The mistress likes going fast. Scary fast. And she knows how to make me do it, too. The easiest way is to have me ride around other people. An older person on a slower bike works well. But she can do it other ways, too. All I have to do is ride anywhere- anywhere! - And she says, “Is that the best you can do…Doug?” She likes a fast, insane life. Why am I so attracted to her? Perhaps it is because she makes me feel so young. But always- always! -she makes me feel stupid. I hate that! Take, for instance, low speed flameouts. Her specialty. First gear, crawling along, gas it, and she coughs and falls on her face. (Actually, I fall over the bars.) It takes a wild man to hold her interest!
The wife is well mannered. If I fall off while riding , she is quick to ask if I’m okay. The mistress will scream that her radiator is dented, or something. Then, she’ll make me go through a hot-starting procedure. She is unforgiving. The wife would start with the least effort! Did I mention the mistress is fast?
In the mistress’ defense, however, she can make me look good, even at an old age. Skipping through rutted trails (not deep ones!), she handles just great. Sliding through turns is a blast! My son and his friends are envious of me. They wish they could afford a mistress. They don’t know what they wish for.
She makes me work for her affections. I must stand almost always, as she has a very hard seat, and stiff suspension. Most of the time, I must hang on for dear life, as well, since we are going fast. Scary fast.
The wife is comfortable to be with, at any speed. She likes to go slow or fast, unless of course it is a rutted section, then she will want it to be a tad slower. She also has a kickstand, which is almost as important as a soft seat. That’s important when you’re old like me.
So you see, it is a tortured life. The Wife, or the Mistress. The mature, enduring, dependable wife, who knows I am aged and loves me anyway, or the mistress, the wild and crazy, fun-loving maniac who is in denial that I’m elderly, and will probably be the death of me. What a tortured life.
(Written with humble apologies to Sherri, my Real Wife of 33+ years. There has been no mistress.)