Matt Hears the Voices...

MO Reader Matt Cuddy rides a 59 Cushman Super Eagle, and he possesses a spooky level of mechanical sympathy. He sent us this little note this morning and I figured you all might like to read it.

Matt writes:
Last night I had heartburn really bad, so around 2:30 am I got up to get a glass of bicarb. As I walked through the den, I heard something out in the garage.

Grabbing the 7 iron I keep by the back door, I crept outside to the garage, commando style. I could hear muffled talking, like whispering coming from inside. I wondered what they were trying to rip off...

Tip-toeing to the back of the garage, I quietly cracked the door. There was a dim glow in the room, like from a bike's tail light. It was pretty dark, and I couldn't see anything so I raised the 7 iron and listened...

"....So, what are we going to do about it?" Asked a low wheezy voice, one that sounded like it came from a person who'd just won a pie-eating contest.

"Well, I for one have no problem with him" replied a female voice, kind of high pitched and stuck-up. Like a prissy librarian.

Egad, how many people are in my garage? I was about to burst in with the 7 iron when yet another voice chimed in;

"Well you're right, we gotta do something, I mean look at what happened to the English dude."

Some kid now! The other voices agreed. I counted 3 so far. Who are these bozos, and what are they doing in my garage at 2:30 in the morning?

I was just about to sneak back to the house and call the cops when yet another voice jumped in, this one kind of deep and in-command; "No, we need a plan that will keep his attention centered, no more crazy stuff, like that time he was going to stick your engine in that Husky frame, remember?"

"Oh, the Sled-X debacle, yes, well at least he finally fixed my head gasket" replied the wheezy voice.

"And what about that time he was going to put those awful high-pipes on me, that would have just ruined my looks!"

My god, it was the woman's voice again...High pipes?

"Don't forget the-Scotch-Brite-in-the-hone deal for my cylinder, and right before that big race too, I should have seized solid on him."

Then it dawned on me, these were my bikes talking! The woman must be the 350 Honda, the wheezy guy my 750, the kid is the 100, I fixed the 250 with Scotch Brite and the big guy in charge, well, he's obviously the CR500.

I pulled up a handy cinder block and listened for a while. They went on like that for what seemed like hours until finally the CR spoke up:

"So enough squabbling, it's agreed then, we all have some major electrical part malfunction or fail within...hmmmm one week of each other, no, make that three days."

"And then all our front brakes can wear out at the same time!" Added the kid.

"Yeah, and our clutch cables!" exclaimed the 250.

"Haw haw, that's great, remember when all our left rear wheel bearings went out at the same time? Remember his expression?" wheezed the Kawasaki.

I'd heard enough. Dawn was peeking over the horizon so I slowly got up and walked back to the house, with perhaps a greater understanding of why things work the way they do.

Right there I made a mental note to be a better owner, nay, a better person to my machines. To change their oil religiously, keep their bearings clean and free of dirt, gap and clean their points, and to cut down on the pepperoni-peyote pizzas before bedtime.

Cheers,
MC