Twice last week, I went to look at motorcycles. My curiosity about what it would be like to have my own street bike took me to Cambridge and Mankato.

A friend of mine bought a Yamaha R6 for $8,000, including tax, plus another $350 for a
helmet, jacket, and gloves. To me, that's a hefty bill, but one could
spend a lot more.

I'm somewhat serious about someday getting a bike, but probably
not anytime soon.

Can't handle the stress of owning any more debt. If I
do buy a motorcycle, my credit cards will be paid off and I will be paying cash. So that also means there's a chance I might never buy one.

Our trip to Mankato -- my buddy and me -- almost convinced me not to buy a motorcycle. We were all excited, took off a little early from work, went to the bank and withdrew $5,500 cash, and called the dealer for directions to the shop.

When we got there, they wouldn't take my buddy's money. He found the bike he wanted, but it hadn't had a safety check, according to the owner. No one was around to perform the safety check, either. My buddy had called and told them that he was interested in the specific bike he wanted to buy, but they hadn't readied it for sale. 

That made no sense.

We took the cash back to the bank. But we got a meal at Buffalo Wild Wings and a few hours of good time spent together out of the deal. 

Our trip to Cambridge came a few days later. Larson's Cycle held an open house, and we got there for breakfast. We had already eaten eggs, bacon, sausage, and juice, but who can turn down a free doughnut?

By the time they were advertising free brats, my buddy had decided on a bike to buy -- the R6 -- upped his loan, contacted an insurance agent for a quote, and stopped into the machine shop to look at the bike. 

It would have to be partially assembled and loaded, we needed to pick out some gear, and finally, papers needed to be signed and a big check written.

So I had time. I putzed around, ate some brats, drank free pop, looked at bikes, checked out helmets, sat on a few motorcycles, imagined myself cruising down the streets between St. Paul and Jordan, and decided that, yeah, someday I'd like to have one of these.

But as much as I want the freedom I might feel while riding unrestricted on a county road in the middle of nowhere, I'm a sensible guy, too. Not right now, I tell myself. Not right now.