Lookin’ for Trouble
Just out toolin around, building miles, building confidence. Really want to try some twisties, but all the roads here are so new they’re arrow-straight. Kept heading toward the mountains to the east. Gotta be sompin interesting here somewhere.
Score! All the way back past the subdivisions, past the development projects, and far far from traffic noise, there was a choice between following the pavement around the corner or heading straight… oh, this is what I wanted this kind of bike for!
Went back in a couple miles before I found a sign saying private driveway. I went over ruts and around tight turns, up and down hills. But once it was marked private, I figured I’d better find someplace to turn around and go back. What’s that line, Kevin, about just after you need it?
This is not the picture I was looking for…
Slowed down… too much. Sand. A little twitch and – I couldn’t catch it, but I let it down VERY slowly.
I’d picked up a Harley at the show. I could do this. And it was that false confidence that got me out there. Put the stand down – check. Make sure it’s in gear – check. Not gonna roll down a hill either way – check. Dig out footing – check. Back into the seat, grab the throttle/brake, grab the tail handle, and start rocking it up. Except that nothing moved.
Time to stop and review the situation. I do have cell coverage. I remember “pretty well” how I got here, although it was mostly just dead reckoning. I looked to see what it was resting on and dug out the pegs. Being buried would make it harder to lift. Still no luck. I could call Mom to give me a ride home. Dear, sweet Mom, however, is not gonna be able to help me lift the beast. I could wait for the resident to come home (or go out). Could be tomorrow. I could call the tow service. I *think* they could get back here.
Then it occurred to me that I told the dealer I wanted lessons in how to pick up the bike. So I called them and Nick, with the sweet southern accent, said he’d come find me. Good thing he’s persistent because my idea of remembering “pretty well” was little enough to go on for how far off the map I was! So I got to sit in the quiet desert and just breathe for an hour or so, with intermittent phone calls from Nick asking for more directions. I eventually started walking out, figuring I’d have to meet him back a few miles at the road. But he found his way in and picked me up on the way by. He was chattering on about thinking about ways to help me get set up for this – a lifting strap or some kind of leverage…
My new hero
Nick showed me the proper way to back into the bike – which was exactly what I’d done. Then he didn’t even realize it as he stepped back out a bit and just picked it up with his arms. Some new visitors came over to see the excitement. Nick told me how proud he was that I’d been adventurous enough to be out there trying in the first place. Even in my extreme frustration, I was grateful for his encouragement. He said he could put it in the van to get it out if I – NO!!!! I gave him a sheepish smile. I hadn’t meant to squeal. Worse’n the little pigs there! But I definitely wanted to ride it back out. Partly to “get back on the horse” and partly just cause the ride in had been great fun. So I followed him out and came back home.
Not a mark on the paint or bars. It really had been pretty much standing still and I let it down as easy as I could. Tomorrow I’m goin to the dealership to get those lifting lessons!
