A man and his motorcycle

A man has been saving up money for months to buy a motorcycle. He goes to a vintage bike store near his house. Regretfully, the storeowner tells him that none of his inventory falls within our hero's price range.
Just as the man, sullen and defeated, turns to leave, the storeowner remembers something. "Wait. I do have one bike I can sell you. The only catch is there are some exposed wires. It runs fine. Just make sure you rub some vaseline on the wires when it rains." The man buys the bike. He is elated.
That night, he goes to his girlfriend's parents' house for dinner. Before they make the door, she tells him to remember one thing: "Don't talk at the dinner table. The first person to talk at the dinner table has to do the dishes."
"That's no problem," the man says. "I'm happy to do the dishes." His girlfriend shoots him a foreboding look.
When they walk into the house, the man is greeted with a pungent, formidable scent. It is then that he notices that the house is lined floor-to-ceiling with moldy, disgusting, months-old dishes.
He decides that something must be done.
Ten minutes into dinner, the man puts down his silverware. He proceeds to grab his girlfriend, throw her onto the table, tear off all her clothes, and ruthlessly pipe her out in front of both her parents. Once he is done, he glances at his girlfriend's father. Dad is clearly infuriated but says nothing. The meal continues.
Another ten minutes pass and the man grabs his girlfriend's mother and repeats the task. Gives it to her in the strictest of biblical senses.
Again, he looks at dad. Dad is beet red, seemingly read to pulverize the man. But he says nothing.
They continue to eat. Suddenly, a great burst of thunder peals out and it begins to rain torrentially.
"Oh, shit, I need some Vaseline!" the man exclaims.
Dad recoils and raises his hands.
"That's OK. I'll do the dishes."