My Bad

Three weeks ago after deciding to buy a Harley-Davidson V-Rod, I asked my wife if she would drive me down to Buddy Stubbs Harley in Phoenix, where a pristine 2003 anniversary model was for sale. We brought along our son, Jay, who is also an avid rider.

After we arrived, I became very busy with paperwork with the sales manager while, unbeknown to me, Jay was flirting with a gal who worked in the store. Since I rode the bike home, I only heard about it after we got back to Camp Verde that afternoon, and to be frank, I was mainly interested in my new (to me) V-Rod.

Two Saturdays ago, I again went to Buddy Stubbs, but this time Hoppy Mennenger and I drove down because he wanted to buy a beautiful 2006 V-Rod I had seen in the used bike area the week before. While he was with his salesman, I started wandering around the store looking at all the Harley accessories. It was there that I met the pretty young lady that my son had been flirting with the weekend before.

With my usual tact and charm, I told her that my son thought she was gorgeous and wanted to know if she was married. After her crimson face turned back to a more normal skin color, she informed me that she was in a serious relationship, but that she was flattered. Ok, at least I tried….

While riding home yesterday with my wife and Hoppy after we loaded his bike in the trailer (he had to wait a week to pick his bike up because of stuff he wanted installed), the subject of the young lady in question came up. My wife asked, “Who are you talking about?” I replied, “You know the tall, young lady that sold me the helmet today. The one that Jay was interested in the last time we were here.” My wife started laughing hysterically and after gaining her composure she said, “You idiot, she wasn’t the one he was flirting with. It was the young thing that sits at the desk welcoming customers at the door!”

As my wife and Hoppy were laughing and making fun of me for being a dork, I realized it was only a matter of time before our son would find out. Hell, this mistake would be the catalyst for many ribbings for weeks to come. We have a lot of family who live for this kind of thing. Of course my wife couldn’t wait to call our boy after we got home. His only reply was, “Please don’t help me anymore, Pops!”

He was only saying,

Mittster