Homeland Insecurity

Last week a young man named Matt and his friend Jeff visited my home on a weekday evening. Matt had been quizzing me about my Smokin' Gun Sportster since I featured it on Craigslist last December, so I knew his interest in buying my chopper was genuine. The fact we shared the same affinity for skate art was made apparent when he told me how much he loved my bike's custom-painted tins. Andy Jenkins created my bike's outlandish livery, and Matt is a huge fan of my friend's musings. Commonalities like these always bode well for a wrinkle-free transaction. Nevertheless, care must be taken.

On the day when Matt said he would visit, I fired up the Sporty and took her for one last joyride just to blow the cobwebs off her blunt prow. After organizing the title and registration, I did something you only see in a Steven Seagal movie: I hid my loaded .357 magnum beneath a scarf on the shelf beside my bike's paperwork in my home office. Given my typical laissez faire attitude toward personal safety, this armor-piercing survival strategy seemed totally out of character. What was I afraid of—Matt and Jeff would steal my bike and beat me to death with a shovel?

After some long-winded pitching on my part and more than a fair share of shit-eating grins on his, Matt and I exchanged cash for pink slips without incident. Thankfully, no shots were fired, and another young, hip motorcycle fan has entered the custom-bike fold. Thanks for your interest, Matt, and good luck with the Smokin' Gun.

Homeland Insecurity