The fair-weather riders remember they’ve got a bike licence and rush out in droves to buy bikes, pushing the prices up for the rest of us.  Come winter, they’ll remember the relative comforts of car transport and sell their bikes and prices will come down again. They tell me patience is a virtue.

But while I don’t have a bike and the payout from the crashed FJ is safely sitting in a term deposit until April, I can go window shopping, right? And it’s not much of an exercise in frustration and desire, really.

What has been interesting is everyone’s suggestions for my next bike.  Kind of like the old blind date test – you can learn exactly what your friends think of you by the person they choose for you.

My dad (large, gruff, square-headed German) wants me to get a BMW because they’re the ultimate bike (his words).   This from the man who was horrified when I decided to get a bike way back then, despite his experiences in his youth.  Bloody hypocrite.

My mad red-headed, bespectacled Vespa-devotee Mac guru wants me to get a Vespa. He loves them, so I guess I can’t fault his reasoning.  Can’t see it taking me across the Nullarbor too many times though.

My other Mac guru, Kevlar-shorts Phil (rides a chook chaser in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt in all weather) advocates a road-trail. This coming from the man who has a complete disregard for roundabouts – why go around when you can go straight over? Guess that makes sense too, kind of…

All my e-friends from the Australian FJ mail list are horrified that I could consider anything other than another FJ. Which I am considering.

Other friends have variously suggested a racy 600, a VFR 750 or 800, various CBRs cruisers, going back to a 250 for a while, a ZZR1100, a TRX 850, a TDM850, an old Z9 or 750, an FZR and the list goes on.

Me? I haven’t the faintest idea, but I do worry about my friends.

Elle McFearsome

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