Bent Words

Bent Words

October 07, 2008

In case you were wondering, I’m kinda (mostly) not digging the cold. There my motorcycle sits, full of pride, creating depressions in the carpet at work, desperate to once more join the world outside. It even looks to me as though my bike would enjoy this sort of weather – a dash of rain coupled with a load of cold – with that forward leaning front fender and that tall stance but, standing outside with a wisp of chill air forcing a frown, that’s where my wandering eye ceases to capture the perfect picture.

It’s too damned cold to ride.

Yes, I am a wuss. Nice to meet you.

So we (meaning they) decided to fire everyone at work.

First it was Brian, our Service ‘Manager.’ Then it was Zac, our Parts ‘Manager.’ Then Amanda (I don’t know what she did so that alone merits the firing), Kraemer (Stars Wars Collector on Company Time Guy), Dan (Sales Associate turned Parts Associate who decided not to show up for five days in a row), Biggy and Clint, who was simply not a nice person. Anthony, the crack addict, was fired (again). Nick, our second Service Manager quit yesterday so we had to move a sales associate over to service so now all we have for salesmen is Ty (who, incidentally, used to be the Service Manager) and some kid named AJ.

I’m not sure who’s getting fired next but the odds are certainly more in my favor (to remain employed, that is).

It’s more work with fewer people but the cold weather has made it possible for us to enjoy a more serene atmosphere. In celebration of this newer, calmer environment, the owner has decided to change the radio station over to whatever station it is that plays Delilah in the evening. Delilah only airs sappy love songs and inspirational ballads from the 70s. Now, mind you, I don’t normally mind such radio shows but I do when it’s in direct relation to a motorcycle shop. Celine Dion, beautiful as her voice may be, is not conducive to my selling a power commander for a sport bike. Whitney Houston does not make Hunter Dude feel geared up when deciding to add a state blade to his new Rincon ATV. It’s like having Elton John perform for the Harley Hundredth…

Enough with the suicide music, Tom, and let me sell some race gas.

On a lighter note, and in direct rebellion of my studies, I’ve learned all the lyrics to La Bamba. I can sing it in Spanish and I can translate it into English. Yes, I really am that amazing, though I must confess that it was more fun to sing along with La Bamba when I had no idea what the HELL I was spewing. “BAH LA LA LA LA BAMBA!”


This kid came in today. Jake. He’s working for Road, Trash and Trail. He said he knew me. I told him that he probably did not, in fact, know me but he persisted.

“Yeah, I know you. You were the girl at all the supermoto races.”

“I am that girl, still. Kinda.”

“Yeah but I remember when you were there all the time. You were with Shane. He and I raced a mini endurance together a few years back, ya know. How’s he doing anyway? I remember when he destroyed my bike and –”

Just when I think a whole week might go by…

Written at 9:31 p.m.