Kelly’s Korner: New Lease On Life Means Bikes Go On Lockdown
Last Updated: December 1st, 2020
In my last column, I shared my excitement about moving out of Maricopa after 13 years and into Tempe. We were indeed able to make that transition on Christmas Eve and what a fun month it has been … well, after I got over that horrible flu everyone has caught, which I apparently passed it on to one of my friends (another insists I gave it to him, too, but I would like to note the total absence of intestinal distress when I was ill. That guy just needs to quit eating terrible food.). editor: No…no I won’t.
Living in civilization again is incredible. It’s hard to explain how good I feel being in close proximity to beautiful parks, good grocery stores, diverse restaurants options and fun activities. Our choices no longer are limited and, in some ways, I’m still wrapping my head around that. Overall, our quality of life has soared and I think we could not be more grateful. For a long time, I didn’t understand the importance of living where you love. I really, really, really get that after these many years so far away from the amenities I value. Location makes all the difference.
Now, neither of us loves the actual four walls surrounding us right now – 800 square feet of cheap, third-floor apartment and no yard for the dogs. However, we do love the area and if all goes as hoped, we will close on our next home on Feb. 22 and kick off years of enjoyment living near the 101 and Baseline in the cutest house on the planet. In the meantime, as we try to maintain our sanity sharing such little space among four creatures, we also have our motorcycle lives to consider. Our riding has decreased these past five weeks. Part of that stemmed from my being sick and T working in Ohio. Another part is that we often take the dogs in the car during errands to help keep them from going stir-crazy. And another factor is that we live so close to work – 1.3 miles. That’s great for walking and fast driving access, but not so great for the bikes. Turns out, they actually need to go about five miles each time we ride to get the benefits of engine lubrication and warmed-up tires. If we get the house we’re in the process of buying, we’ll live a little less than six miles from work. How’s that for motorcycle serendipity? Still, adding to the stress that comes from house-buying, I’m compounding it by feeling guilty that I’m not giving my Hinckley the attention and mileage he deserves.
Another stress comes from simply living in an apartment complex. T and I rented in a sketchy complex in Mesa years ago (no bikes then) and had some pretty interesting times as a result:
- A known Neo Nazi (whose name I dare not disclose here) stole my ancient – white, naturally – Honda Prelude. He outfitted the gear shift with a skull design and filled the trunk with mix tapes of love songs. Such a paradox, that guy. I got the car back. It reeked of body odor. I didn’t keep it for long.
- Someone broke into our poor Isuzu Amigo to steal a radio that wasn’t there … twice.
- The cops would come by our unit and tell us to keep our windows closed.
- The police helicopters spotlighted our complex many a time amid apparent domestic violence, several incidents of which I reported to 911.
- T wouldn’t let me do the laundry because of the gangs and drug addicts. Once he forgot a book to read while in the laundry room. He was gone for maybe five minutes. As he walked back in, a strung-out chick was carrying away all our wet, soapy clothes.
- The neighbors had a regular, um, schedule … I was awakened at 2 a.m. every Wednesday, if you know what I’m saying.
And we opted for the affordable Nelson-Rigg deluxe covers. They do the trick.
Thus, with those memories still foremost in our minds, we moved into this apartment in Tempe with a jaded view of what might happen. As such, we may have gone a tad overboard in securing the two motorcycles we didn’t put in storage.
- We rent a covered parking spot visible from our apartment;
- We secure the wheels with cable locks that wrap around the cemented-in parking post;
- We add stupid-sensitive alarm disc brake locks that scream extremely shrill opinions (to the tune of 120 decibels, to be exact) if you don’t insert the key into the lock just right; and
- We use covers that make discerning the bike underneath a bit difficult.
I guess the real test is the results and, knock on wood, so far so good. The only people who have set off the alarms are T and me.
We bought the XENA brand of alarmed disc brake lock.
The drawback to this setup? It is a pain in the you-know-what to uncover, unlock, unlock again, store locks and covers and then, upon return, wait for the exhaust to cool, then lock, cover and lock with the alarm. I cannot wait to have a garage again. (I know – I get what I want, quality of life in a great city, and here I am complaining about a minor problem. Ha! Oh humanity.)
Again, though, all is well to this point – with the bikes and with the apartment complex. On that note, our car remains where we park it, stereo intact. Cop activity is low; there have been no ghetto birds. I haven’t yet had to call 911 to report nearby domestic violence. We have a washer and dryer in our unit and, therefore, possession of all of our clothes.
And if the neighbors have a schedule, we can’t hear it.
(Tell me how you protect your bike in less-than-ideal conditions. And I really hope I’ll be writing my next column for you from my adorable backyard!)
