Rides and Tales

Observations From Behind Bars

Snapshot

with one comment

Once in a while, the rat in the attic shakes down a picture that brings back a moment. Other times you  find it in  an old shoe box.



A year after his passing, Bobbio’s  club held a memorial poker run in his honor; it started and ended at Hooters.   Bob liked hooters.

On his first long ride Bob had been surprised by a cold front and heavy rain in the Texas Hill Country.
Recognizing his limitations as a new rider, he left his bike with a friend in Bandera, rented a car and drove home. Some  of the gang  had  ragged him pretty hard over that  so it was fitting that a week of mild weather deteriorated into cold  rain on the day of the run.

I’m sure Bob was looking down at us and laughing up his sleeve.

Photobucket


Now, a wise old biker once told me that everyone has to ride in the rain  sometime, “but to start out in it us just plumb dumb”. We made an exception for this ride and if you’ve ever known someone like Bobbio, you know why.

Jill was on the clock that day so Little Michele, trooper that she is, was my pillion and Professor Alex  tailed  us on his  deluxe Kawasaki Vulcan 800.
Alex was kind of new to the game, but fearless, having raced both cars and boats in Russia, and was looked on as something as a wild man, at least while on the bike.
Consequently,  the others gave him a wide berth.

I’m telling you, By the time we got to the Salty Dog Saloon, in Port Aransas, we had seen some rain and felt some cold.
Michelle and I had worn rain suits for the first time ever while Alex, having experienced many Moscow winters, but never cold coastal rain from the seat of a motorcycle, was wearing some  kind of short jacket and was getting pretty thoroughly soaked and chilled.

After getting our tokens at the bar we made our way to the ferry landing.

The day being what it was, traffic was light and we rolled without stopping  right onto the boat.  The deck hand directed  the  Professor to park next to us.  I almost expected him to skid on the wet deck but he rolled up  and executed a textbook perfect stop.
When he did, the cold water that had collected in the depressions made by the buttons on his fancy seat sloshed forward, neatly clearing his belt and disappearing  between his jeans and his  back.
Alex looked over at  Michele and me, eyes wide with shock, and said,  ” You know…I thought there would be that one place on  my body that didn’t get wet!”

I reckon that  would make your ass want a dip of snuff.

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Written by fiddle mike

February 18, 2009 at 12:43 am

One Response

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  1. Excellent memory…this is what riding buddies are for. Nothing less…
    Chessie

    chesshirecat

    February 18, 2009 at 10:13 am


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