® The real deal

Not long ago I very reluctantly went to the emergency room at the local hospital, in pain so bad I hadn't slept more than three hours cumulatively in almost a week. After going through a phalanx of in-betweens, finally got to see the doctor, who prescribed a mild narcotic. That was it. No exam, no personal attention. And the uber pain pills didn't even work if you don't count making me sick to my stomach. For another night or two I slept, when I slept, sitting up. Try that sometime.

Then I tried the neighborhood urgent care. Two and a half hours in a packed, tiny, noisy waiting room later saw a physician's assistant. Got a refill on the same ineffective "killer" drugs. No exam, no suggestions, no conversation, no diagnosis, and no result. Back on the street. And insurance wouldn't pay for it. Sigh.

Finally, desperate, I turned to a specialist. Short wait, very personal. Knew exactly what was wrong. One cortisone shot later and an appointment for physical therapy, I was finally pain free and slept. Slept! Not only that, the meds I got referred, over the counter ones no less, actually worked! Incredible!

Folks gravitate to my shop because they have had bad experiences with other mechanics. I don't advertise for bike work. I rebuild carburetors for a living. However, like the person who collects stray dogs, mistreated bikes somehow find their way to me, making me a sort of a Florence Nightingale on the vintage Jap motorbike battlefield. Thus it strikes me that the account above about doctors also fairly describes what powersports mechanics are like. Too many, whatever their supposed qualifications, just don't seem to consistently manage to help people. The problem is, the general public doesn't perceive the difference, doesn't even recognize that there is one, until they have the kind of experience described above. But just like the medical specialist, the real trained and experienced, motivated career motorcycle guy knows what he is about. No wasted motion. No screwing around. The real deal.

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