Author's note: Short chapter this time simply because I'm trying to plot out the rest of the story. I'll try to get the next part up when I can but it may be a while.

Also, as far as what House does with his corvette, I thought it would be a great idea if he asked for help from the guy who gave it to him.


Ch. 2 Motorcycle of Life

The corvette ride to Ridgewood was uneventful and before too long, House was walking around the motorcycle in the driveway. The front right side was pretty scraped up, but it didn't look too bad.

"Can I help you?" said a woman coming out of the house.

"Yeah," House replied, taking a few steps towards her. "Um, Dan Taylor sent me over here."

The woman looked House up and down, her eyes lingering on the cane. "You're interested in buying Bobby's bike?"

"Absolutely," House replied, pulling out his checkbook. "5 thousand, right?"

"Greg House?"

House looked up as a man on crutches came hobbling out of the garage. "Yeah. Dan sent me over."

Bobby balanced for a minute as he held out his hand for House to shake. "Nice to meet you. So what do you think?"

"You mean besides the scrape?" House replied, looking over at the bike. "I'll take it."

"Cool, dude," Bobby said, smiling. "I'd keep it, but the wife has spoken. So, shall we go inside and do business?"

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Bobby had actually lowered the price for House to cover the installment of a cane holder on the right side as well as transportation fees to get it to the detail shop.

The week before House was due to pick up his new motorcycle, he sat at home in his apartment sipping a scotch and thinking on his car. He loved the corvette. It ran great and was comfortable as Hell…. Still, he didn't exactly like having both parked out on the street. He'd have to put the corvette in storage. Either that or pay the extra fees to put the corvette in the apartment complex's parking garage. Storage would be cheaper… not to mention safer. On the other hand, House thought as he stood up and went to dig up a phone number, maybe he could have someone hang on to it for a while. Finding the number, House picked up his phone and dialed. "Yeah, hi. This is Dr. House. I'd like to speak with Bill Arnello…"

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"I need $5,000," House said as he and Wilson ate dinner at their favorite hangout, Malley's Galley.

"What for?" Wilson asked, shocked. House had borrowed money before, but never this much.

"Buying a new car. My landlord said he'd seen someone lurking around so I thought I'd store the corvette and get something a little plainer." House's gaze never left Wilson's as he said, "Look, I'll do anything. Please?" After a few moments, House smiled as Wilson wrote him a check. Boy, was he going to be surprised…

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"So when do I get to see it?" Wilson asked as he followed House out of his office.

"See what?" House asked, innocently.

"Your new car," Wilson said, a familiar prickling starting up his neck. "The new car I gave you 5 grand for last night?"

"Oh, right," House replied and Wilson's prickly feeling intensified. "Sure. No problem."

Wilson followed House, but as they got closer to the parking lot, Wilson saw two things that definitely didn't belong. One was a motorcycle in the handicapped parking area… and the other was the grin on House's face. "Well, this…" 'This is beyond words.' "This is perfect." 'I wasted 5 thousand dollars on the insanity of my best friend. Perfect.'

"Invite me to dinner Thursday night," House said, as he started towards his new bike. 'If I accept,' Wilson thought. 'What are you going to ask for this time? A kidney? Part of my liver? My wife?' "Come on," House coaxed. "We haven't had a nice meal together since, oh…"

"Yesterday," Wilson replied, still in shock. "When I loaned you $5000 to buy a new car," he said, pointing at the bike. 'He's done it. House has… finally gone mental.'

"My treat," House said, tossing his cane up and catching it and handing it over to Wilson before limping over to the bike.

"Two-wheeled vehicles that travel 150 miles an hour don't really go well with crippled, irresponsible drug addicts," Wilson said, trying to appeal to House's sense of rationality. Then again, he'd bought a motorcycle so maybe all the Vicodin had killed off House's rational mind.

"Actually," House said as he put the key in the ignition and lifted his bad leg over the side of the bike and settled on. "Two-wheeled vehicles that go 180 miles an hour do not go well with healthy responsible architects who don't know how to separate breaking and turning. Good news is it brings the price right down."

'I'm putting a stop to this,' Wilson thought, trying to be the mature one. "You're taking it back."

"Moooom," House said, in a mock-whine. "How about we talk this over dinner?" House knew that Wilson would warm up to the bike eventually.

"Forget Dinner," Wilson said. Was House suicidal? "You're going to kill yourself!"

"Nice bike!" said an Australian voice behind them.

House turned to see Chase, Cameron, and Foreman coming up and turned to Wilson with a pointed look on his face. "Thank you. See, that's how you do it. Compliments… dinner."

Cameron was looking at the bike and asked the question that Wilson had wondered himself. "What do you do with your cane?"

"He buys me dinner," House said, smirking. "He'll find out." Taking his cane from Wilson, House gave it a twirl and snapped it into the holder. "Evel Knievel had the same setup," House said, proudly.

"And he broke every bone in his body," Cameron countered, which only added to Wilson's worries. Would this motorcycle be the end of Greg House?

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