Secondo was my first. First ride on a PC. I was bound for
Penticton, BC from Central Oregon and spent a night in Yakima, Washington.
I saw this lovely black motorcycle for sale at a motorcycle salvage yard
and stopped and chatted. The owner of the yard encouraged me to take
the PC for a spin.
I was smitten. Stock windshield had to go, but everything else was just fine. I said I wanted to negotiate a deal, offering my 83 Suzuki GS850G in the deal. "It's a consignment, so we can't do any trading." Dang. I went my way.
Weeks later, in my driveway at home: "I like that Suzuki, dad." Joel, my motorcycling son, was admiring the GS. "Find me a PC and we can make a deal for the GS," I responded.
Next week he did, on the same street where he worked, which was 200 miles away. We negotiated, three ways, and he agreed to ride the PC up for a small delivery fee.
That was a black 94, immaculate.
Weeks later I crashed it, totalled it, said goodbye to it, and the rest of that whole saga involves attorneys, insurance companies (3 of them!) and recovery from bent, broken, separated body parts attached to a scarred psyche.
I did however receive a quick and fair settlement for the bike itself and I immediately called Yakima. "Yes, we still have the PC, just lowered the price." I told them to consider it sold.
I bought it because it was there. I was not sure I would continue to own it. Would the memories of the accident prevent me from being an assertive and strong rider? I brought it home on my truck. This was late fall, so I got only a few short in town spins in before winter came along.
So now you understand the name: The '95 was my second, and I needed to ride him with verve, with spirit, with spizerinctum. And I did, and eventually sold him locally and purchased a 98 with 1400 miles. I needed that cool open front fender, dazzlingly red.