Submitted by Skylar Rogers
If there are two words that can specifically describe me they would be, “daddy’s girl.” I know you’re probably thinking “that’s what every daughter says,” but ask a friend, family member, or yourself and you would be lying if you said I am not Billy Rage’s little princess. Whether it’s beach days spent together, his credit card, running up his check at my favorite restaurants, or the tons of shopping bags I’m carrying out of the mall, there is nothing better than my father’s unconditional love for me. However, I will never forget the day this man bought his motorcycle.
I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought it was a joke. After numerous stories of motorcycle accidents, his dangerous love for “popping wheelies,” and his tough guy look that would never dare to accessorize himself with safety wear, there was no way in h-e-double-hockey-sticks that I was approving of my beloved father on a motorcycle! Well, that negative outlook disappeared the instant he took me out for a “little” ride…. all-day.
I doubt it was the farmer’s tan that made me love the ride, but I can’t disagree on the feeling of being a total “bad-a**,” and the wind running through my hair that made me love the thrill! I mean, I can totally understand this man’s love for this wild ride! After learning on how to avoid oil spills, how to put a bandana on the seat so it doesn’t burn my toosh, watching my father shift gears, and being aware of the precautions of getting off correctly so I don’t burn my soft ankles, I am proudly convinced…I can drive this motorcycle probably even better than this man. Could you imagine, little Skylar Rage riding her Harley with monkey bars, Billy Rage on the back? Because I can!
That’s when the light in my brain went off like the gas light after my dad’s “little” motorcycle ride that ended up lasting two hours. Regardless of my complaints of the long, sunbaked, “little,” motorcycle ride, I had a genius idea derived from my love created that day! When I transferred to a University after finishing my education at St. Petersburg College, I was going to find a way to get this bad-boy (the motorcycle) to college with me. This plan is all without my father’s knowledge so pay very close attention because crucial critiquing comments on my execution will gladly be accepted.
A-1 Auto Transport, ever heard of them? Well if you haven’t, you have probably heard of A-1 steak sauce, so with the comparison of A-1, these guys have got be pretty damn good! That’s right I was going to call them at 1-800-452-2880 and let them know of my genius idea. When reading their website, they clarified that their service may be needed if selling or buying a motorcycle. Another idea they had was if somebody was moving to a different home and needed their motorcycle transported or if an individual was attending a rally cross-country. That’s when I began to think maybe my idea wasn’t necessarily normal and a little off the wall perhaps, but if there’s anyone to blame, blame my father, am I right? I mean, he took me on the motorcycle. I willingly did not push him into buying the motorcycle and he should know, just like all of his phone chargers, auxiliary cords, money, and even his white truck for 4 months, it becomes MINE. (I want everyone to re-read that capitalized “mine” like a ruler who just took over the world, because that is how great this plan is, and an essay can’t include sound effects.) So, the plan was pretty clear. A-1 Auto Transport was going to suggest a normal reason that could be somewhat compared to of why I might need the motorcycle to make me feel a little better about secretively stealing my father’s pride and joy and taking it to college with me. “But daddy!! I’m your princess!”
Motorcycle shipping options include ways like enclosed transport, open air, door to door, terminal to terminal or crated transport. I thought if I was going to go through with my genius plan, I would keep my father in my thoughts and go with the enclosed transport. The enclosed transport is the “safest and most secure way to move your bike.” I really enjoyed reading A-1 Auto Transport’s website because they used pronouns like “your” and it made me feel even more like the motorcycle was officially becoming mine! I mean, the website was calling it mine, and I wanted it to be mine and Daddy always said, “Princess gets what she wants!” But, that was before he introduced me to his motorcycle. A-1 Auto Transport suggests preparing the bike before getting it shipped. This included washing the bike, removing loose accessories, checking the fluids, making sure there is no more than ¼ tank of gas, and documenting any previous damages. So, I made a checklist,
- Wash the bike and make Dad think I am THAT much of an angel,
- Take the booty-saving bandana and hold it hostage for a little while,
- Pretend to check the fluids and,
- Take it for a spin to get used to the power.
This plan was turning out better than expected. A-1 Auto Transport has a list of colleges they shipped to. I immediately updated my FAFSA information and school choices to the University of Florida, Florida State University and the University of Central Florida. A-1 Auto Transport even provides free insurance coverage on all vehicles in their care for delivery. I was getting so close to the execution of my genius idea and I am not going to lie, I was convinced this plan alone was going to get me into one of my top Universities. There was one last thing I needed in order for everything to play out just right. That is, I needed to receive my family and friend’s support and persuade them to vote for my chance of receiving A-1 Auto Transport’s scholarship. With the scholarship due in the middle of March, I think that is enough time to get my votes in, convince my father this whole essay was fiction, and still finesse my way into receiving his motorcycle.
Submitted by Skylar Rogers
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