The day came. The sales guy rang to say I could come and pick up the bike.
If you've been following the story, you'll know that a BMW R1200RT was recently delivered.
It wasn't new-born, but I'm foster parent for the bike that was looking for a caring home.
It's now duly registered in the family name.
My Dad's a biker from many, many years ago. His body is frail but his mind is alert as ever.
At 90 year's old, kudos to him for climbing on the back of my brother's Honda Gold Wing. He looked very pleased with himself. My brother used discretion on the corners and throttle.
So he was of course, interested to see the new family addition.
I rode straight from the fostering agent to Dad's place. We looked over the baby, made all the right noises and had a cup of tea.
Then it started to rain. First a few drops and I said "Dad, I'd better go".
I jumped on, turning into the street and into a downpour.
It's only right, that on the first day, the baby's head should be wet.
Arriving home, I lovingly wiped off the drops and helped her feel comfortable in her new surrounds.
Later, my wife and I called some friends and said we're coming over to show off the new baby.
They were delighted and had coffee and biscuits ready. We talked motorcycle till quite late and listened to stories about their family members that had come and gone over the years.
We also planned to take our children on a weekend outing. Somewhere in NSW where you sit in mineral springs and rejuvenate, sounded pretty good.
I could see that the new family member heralded exciting and interesting times ahead.