Putting a Price on Sentimental Value

This weekend provided me a rare break in the weather and my schedule; I got a few excellent rides in. I didn’t even pretend to train.  I ride at Pontiac Lakes every so often but I think yesterday was the first time I rode there at well below my lactate threshold.  I never noticed what a pretty trail it is.

I intended to spend the weekend emptying out the house in anticipation of moving to Canton. I looked at some storage units in that area, $187 a month, much more expensive than the storage units here in Brighton. This changed my calculations for what I keep and what I pitch. I will likely live in an apartment for a year. I’m not sure the sum total of everything I own is worth the $2,244 it will cost me to store it for 12 months.

I started with the shed because I figured this would be the easiest place to start purging. It is full of things that are useful when you own a house: generator, mower, wheelbarrow, jack stands, ladders, etc. As I looked at the stuff in the shed, I realized it was more than just tools. My dad made the sawhorses for me. The shovels were from my Grandpa. Everything had a story and witness marks that meant something to me. My heart raced as I considered scrapping or craiglisting the stuff in the shed.

In the back of the shed was my 1982 Yamaha RD350LC. Wow. What do I do with this? It is much more than just a motorcycle. I bought it new, back in the olden days before Suzuki came out with the GSXR, when people were road racing GS550s. The RD350LC was a wonderful 2-stroke production race bike: light, fast, and could wheelie easier than my RM250. Best of all, it wasn’t legal in America, just the challenge for a smug teenager who though he was smarter than he was. I went to Canada to buy it. The US Customs agent tried to prevent me from bringing it across the border but I tied him up in the same bureaucracy that the government created to prevent people like me from importing bikes like that. I was happy to debate hydrocarbon parts per million and DOT standards with him. He finally granted me a onetime exemption from Federal emission and safety standards just to get me out of his office. Then I had to get a Michigan title and plate. The girl at the Secretary of State thought she could send me away empty handed. I am nothing if not persistent. I got a title and plate. I think I made her cry in the process.

I really like this motorcycle. But it isn’t worth $2,244. How do you put a price on sentimental value?

I was thinking about this as I took out the trash.  I noticed Cindy threw out her wedding dress.  It cost more than my motorcycle.