We waited… And patiently waited. We didn’t want to seem greedy, so I never asked Gramps directly about it, though we talked about it often. Several months later, while visiting Gigi, Hubby decided to go visit Gramps on his own, and find out about the bike. 
He came back some time later looking like he had been gut-punched, or was about to be sick. “What happened?” I asked…
Gramps had sold the bike to his nephew. “No…. He wouldn’t do that. He promised it to us!” I felt completely used. I’d been willing to let my husband spend all winter in the garage… and now that was all lost to us. Would my cousin (once removed) sell it to us if he knew the story? If he knew Hubby had done all the fixing up? Gramps’ story to Hubby was that his nephew “made an offer I couldn’t refuse” so we didn’t have much hope of getting it, if that was the case. I made a long-distance call from Gigi’s to my uncle, to tell him what Grandpa had done, and ask him what he thought we could do.
He had known of the sale, but had no idea we hadn’t signed off on it. He thought we’d been consulted. He called his cousin to see what the status might be of the bike’s salability, and we got further bad news.  Our cousin claimed to never really want it (he already had a motorcycle or three that he liked), so sold it shortly after buying it. The bike was long gone.
The only information we had was that he’d sold it to “Some Guy” in the Town near us, where I do my shopping and errands.
 To soften the blow, my uncle (who often buys and sells myriad motorcycles) offered to sell us at a good price (still 4 times the Goldwing, but we had saved up…) an ’89 Kawasaki Police Special. It had a BIG cushy seat, though they’d removed the police radio, sirens and flashing lights (darnit). He rode it several hundred miles to deliver it to us, and Hubby had his road bike, if not the one he’d put his heart into. 
It was a NICE bike too (so I hear). Sturdy side and rear boxes for hauling things, a smooth ride, and EVERYONE always drove super-carefully when he was in the vicinity.. 🙂 It wasn’t the Goldwing, but it was a better bike in all ways but sentimentality. Grandpa’s Goldwing was relegated to the halls of memory.
But God has access to those halls too…
To be continued…
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