Small Town Downside
Or, of course, they get their money by telling people that the poor are actually very rich because they aren't Afghani herders. This special subset of people are what we call assholes. But leaving that...
I admit that I have a problem. I recognize it, I know it's there, and I know I probably should do something about it, but I won't. My problem is trading in my Hot Young Brit for a Classy Older Italian. Alas, this meant when things starting going wrong (specifically seizing up in second gear) I needed to find someone for whom the words "Moto Guzzi" didn't inspire fear and dread. That was a tough find to start with, and when the shop I had found closed after taking apart my bike - handing me back a semi-rolling chassis and a bill - it took a few years to find a backyard mechanic willing to put it back together. All this because one thing I can't afford is a garage: I've got a roof for my bike, but a lack of walls makes an open engine unhappy.
But I found one! He was about 100 kilometers away, but he was willing to do it and now it's done. Huzzah! My beloved Goose is back and running and, yes, insured just in time for November to turn to December (the bike's timing might not be the only one that's off...), but I've got a couple rides in already and hope to get a few more before the really bad weather gets here.
Unfortunately, said mechanic didn't actually tune the bike, as it needs to run in for a hundred kilometers or so after reassembly, and now I need someone else to do that. If all else fails, I'll be popping out what tools I have and crossing my fingers.
If there's one thing doing amateur theatre can get you ready for, it's a willingness to improvise.