As most of our fair readers know, along with the elimination of roos, I really like motorcycles.
So, in my quest of motorcycle greatness, I occasionally work with some people from the "More Money Than Brains Club" to get their highly expensive motorcycles into the US.
So a few weeks ago, I was contacted by a high level dealer in the land of Arnold ( CAL) to bring a bike in from Italy. Not a problem, I told them, I can do this.
So it went like this,
Personal Asst to Mr. Blah ( couch jumper on Oatbag Winfrey) Mr. Barnhart?
Yep
My name is Joe Shit the Ragman, and I represent Mr. Blah,
OK
This is in regards to the importation of blah motorcycle
OK
You stated you needed an insurance card
yep
I don't know if we can provide that at this time
OK
So that's not a problem?
Only if you don't want a title or plates on blah motorcycle
Is there any way we can get around this
Nope
Why not,
Listen sport, there's only one way to do this, my way. and if you can't follow the contract I gave you then I get to keep your motorcycle.
You would do that?
In a NY minute
Is there anything we can do?
Yeah, he can give me his P51 Mustang for an hour or 2
Why, what would that do?
It would really make me happy
What does that have to do with the motorcycle?
Nothing. It's just that when somebody asks a stupid questions after being told no, I just can't resist coming up with something as equally dumb
Are you always like this?
No, usually I'm much worse
So you HAVE to have the insurance card
Bingo, you win a cookie
What?
A cookie. Would you like chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin?
What?
Just send me the insurance card sport.
Did you just call me sport?
That's right, Bucko.
I don't like being called sport
OK, dipstick.
AGHHH, I'll get the insurance card!
Thanks..... Sport!
And people wonder why I'm nuts