Seth’s father grudgingly offers him an old motorcycle as a means to make amends after his parents disregard his birthday. However, Seth’s father abruptly wants the motorcycle back after he has spent months working on a unique restoration job. Seth had to choose between getting even or returning the old Harley with ease.
I was eighteen when my birthday arrived and passed without my parents ever mentioning it. There was no birthday present, no cards, no cake, and they didn’t even visit my dorm room, of course. Although I made an effort to remain calm, it hurt more than I wanted to acknowledge. However, my dad contacted me the following morning to invite me to their house.
With a set of keys in his hand, he continued, “I have something for you, Seth.” I was perplexed, but I caught them with ease.
“What is the purpose of this?” “What?” I inquired. They didn’t appear to be automobile keys, and I already owned my mother’s previous vehicle.
In reference to a dusty tarp in the garage’s corner, my dad nodded. For as long as I could remember, it had been there, hiding something I was instructed not to touch.
I couldn’t believe what I saw as I removed the tarp. It was my dad’s old Shovelhead from 1973. For me, the bike that had always seemed just out of reach was the stuff of my childhood stories. As a child, my only desire was to sit on the motorcycle and take my dad’s leather jacket. But if I attempted to touch it, he would yell at me.
“Seth, I’ll take away all of your spending money if there’s even a single scratch on it.”
I was deterred from the dream bike by that alone.
“The Harley is yours to give to me?” I asked, sounding both excited and incredulous.
My dad dismissed it with a casual shrug.
Yes, he said, “why not, son?” “Good luck with that; it hasn’t run in years, to be honest. Think of it as a late birthday present, Seth.
I was in shock.
With the wind in my hair and the engine roaring beneath me, I was finally going to ride that bike. It was going to fulfill all of my dreams and more. At last, I was going to grow up like my father.
Taking in the gift, I rubbed my palm over the cracked leather seat.
Dad, thank you,” I said. “I swear to take good care of her.”
My new fixation was that motorcycle as soon as I had the keys.
The mechanic replied, “Jeez, son,” when I brought the Harley over in an old pickup truck belonging to a friend. There’s a lot of work to be done. However, if you are confident enough, you will be able to handle the tiny issues, and I will handle the larger ones for you.
I saved all of the money I made working as a café barista. I hoped for huge tips from all of my customers, so I was especially courteous and prepared to put them directly into the motorcycle restoration fund.
Before long, I was spending my weekends, evenings, and any free time I had outside riding the motorcycle. Restoring old pieces, I disassembled it and reassembled it better than before. I read all of the available manuals and watched a ton of YouTube videos.
I was crouched on the couch with my laptop when my roommate Brett remarked, “What are you doing now?”
“I’m searching online forums for advice regarding the motorcycle,” I stated.
“That’s all you do now, buddy,” he remarked with a laugh.
The time finally arrived, fourteen months later. I stood back and marveled at my work after polishing the final piece of chrome. The Harley shone brightly in the garage lights, as if it had just been put together.
“Well done, Seth,” I whispered to myself.
The idea of displaying it to my parents, especially my dad, made me incredibly excited. I pictured the look of pride on his face and the way his eyes would brighten upon seeing what I had accomplished.
I wanted him to feel proud of something I had accomplished at last. But I had no idea what was going to happen next.
Under my legs, the engine purred like a large cat as I rode it to my parents’ house. I was apprehensive when I pulled into the driveway. Since I was awaiting my college acceptance letter, I hadn’t had this level of anxiety.
“Dad? Mom?” I called as I entered the corridor.
When my mother called, we were in the kitchen.
They were in the kitchen when I entered. While Mom was busy assembling a lasagna, my dad was sipping his tea.
“I have a demonstration for you!” I said. “It is outdoors.”
Their eyes widened at the sight of the motorcycle, and they followed me outside.
“Oh my god, Seth,” my father said. That’s the Harley, right? That old Harley of mine? She’s stunning!
“Yes,” I replied, smiling. “I’ve worked on it for the past 12 months. How do you feel?
Before they could respond, my father approached the motorcycle. He squinted as he processed it. As if he was in shock at what he saw, he rubbed his hands over the chrome.
With a tense voice, he questioned, “You did all this?”
“I did!” I remarked, grinning with pride. “This project took up every available moment and additional money. And now she is flawless.
I thought I saw pride flash in his eyes for a moment, but then his face altered. His expression deepened, and I saw a shift in myself.
“You know, Seth,” he replied slowly, “this bike has a lot more value now. When I gave it to you, I believe I was being overly giving.
Unable to understand, I blinked.
Dad, what do you mean?
By clearing his throat, my father avoided looking at me.
He said in a decisive tone, “I’m going to take it back.” In addition, I’ll pay you $1,000 for your trouble.
“You mean it?” With my rage hardly contained, I asked.
His head nodded.
“It’s only right, Seth.”
I wanted to scream, to let him know how unjust he was being and how much money and effort I had put into that bike. I was aware, however, that arguing would not help me. Dad was very obstinate.
Yes, I replied. “Whatever you believe is just.”
I wasn’t finished with my retaliation, but he appeared shocked that I didn’t confront him about it. He was free to play dirty if that was his desire. I could also play that game. All I had to do was be more astute.
After a few days, I noticed my father sharing on social media about his “newly restored” Harley and how he was bringing it to an upcoming bike meet with his former riding friends.
Now I told myself, “It’s on.”
On the day of the meet, I saw from a distance as my father pulled up in the Harley, looking like the happy owner of a great motorcycle. All eyes were on him as he revved the engine in the parking lot.
However, he was unaware that I had made a small change of my own.
Nothing spectacular, just a little switch that I had added under the seat. But in case the Harley was ever taken, it was a precaution. With a flick of the remote control, which was securely gripped in my hand, I could access the switch that would cut off the fuel line.
I waited until he was in the center of the crowd, enjoying the adulation, and then I pushed the button from a distance.
The engine died with a weak cough, and the Harley sputtered. My father tried to restart it, but the engine refused to cooperate, and his smug smile quickly vanished.
As the murmurs started to spread across the gathering, several of his friends chuckled among themselves.
“Dad, you need help?” I walked over to him and asked him.
Even though he was glaring at me, I could sense the despair in his eyes. Too embarrassed to speak, he nodded. I squatted down and pretended to play around with the bike for a while before “fixing” the issue by shutting off the switch.
By the time the engine screamed back to life, the harm was already done.
All of the effort I had put into the Harley was worth it when I saw my dad’s embarrassed expression.
He tightened his jaw and handed me the keys.
“It’s yours,” he declared as he turned to go.
I grinned, knowing that even though my father couldn’t express it, his admiration and the Harley were all mine.
What would you have done?
I was given an old, smelly couch by my stepmother, but after seeing what I did with it, she demanded $2,500 from me.
Nicole is thrilled when her stepmother calls to tell her that she has a present for her. Nicole, however, is caught between retaliating and making her father happy after learning what the gift is. At last she accepts it and intends to change it into something quite new. Nicole is ultimately prepared to reap the benefits of her diligence.
Did you ever had an instance where you ought to have followed your instincts? Yes, I was standing in my stepmother’s basement, gazing at the most unsightly and foul-smelling couch I had ever seen.
My birthday was celebrated with a lavish phone call from my stepmother, Susan, earlier that morning. Her “priceless” gift, she insisted, was too large for her to handle by herself.
“It’s going to be fantastic, Nicole!” she exclaimed. “It is incredibly valuable! We’ll show you later today if you come over.”
At this time, I would like to disclose that Susan and I had never been close. Actually, if I’m telling the truth, she hardly put up with me. So you can only imagine how shocked I was when she gave me a present.
“Curiosity killed the cat, Nic,” I told myself as I climbed into the vehicle.
I simply wanted to see what it was and hoped that she might be sincere for once.
My dad informs me that Susan is busy when I arrive at his residence.
“She’s sorting out the basement, honey,” he responded. Finally, Susan is clearing up her junk. In all honesty, it’s about time. Come, sip on some tea.
