Larry, I won't presume to tell you what to do or pass judgement on you for asking for input. I'll just relate my story. I was a freshman in college on my own working two jobs to pay for school and have a little food to eat when the 500 Interceptor came out. I had been drooling over one of my bosses' original 1983 750 Interceptor for months. If I could have afforded the 750, I would have gotten it but the 500 was the one that I thought I could just barely pay for. My boss co-signed the loan for me with two conditions: 1) if I ever couldn't make the payments, the bike was his and 2) someday down the road, I'd be in a situation to help someone get their dream bike. I still vividly remember the guy at the dealer (Foothills Honda in Easley, SC) calling me up and saying "Dirk, the bank says come get this bike." As a physics student, I knew that faster than light travel was impossible but I came pretty damn close on the way there.
Working two jobs and going to school full time (in physics, not underwater basket weaving) was very tough. I had very little free time during the school year but what I had was spent riding that 500. It truly did keep me going, on through graduate school in astrophysics. There were times in grad school when money was very tight and I would skip meals for lack of money. I would sometimes look at the 500 and think that I could get a decent amount of money for her. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It might have helped me pay a few bills on time or eat a little better, but selling it would have eliminated my greatest release from the stress of school and trying to keep everything together. I am sure selling it would have been a disaster for me. I told myself that one day all of this hard work would pay off and it did.
A year after I bought the 500, the VF1000R arrived in the States. God, I wanted that bike so bad but there was no way I could have possibly afforded it. I told myself that I would continue to work hard and one day I would have one. I finally bought a pristine example of one a few years ago and when I got it home and put it in the garage, I just stared at it. I am not ashamed to say that I was in tears. It was the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice, and a very emotional moment. Yes, it was just an old bike to everyone around me. But to me, it was much, much more than a machine. It was a symbol of what I had gone through to get it. It was a reminder to me of the very positive impact that motorcycling and the motorcycling community had had on me. Riding means a lot more to me than just being out there riding. Maybe it's the same for you.