Thursday, October 1, 2009


Leather jacket weather has arrived again, for us motorcycle enthusiasts. Wore mine out to eat last night, at Coyote Joe's. It looked like it wanted to rain, the whole time I was out, but never did, fortunately. The cool temperature, fall weather has arrived a little early this year. It usually don't start getting really nippy in these parts until at least mid-October, but we're dipping into the upper 40's at night this week. I was kind of expecting it, after the unseasonable cool and rainy summer we've had. I think I got to ride more LAST summer, when I was still trucking, than I've gotten to this year, because of all the wet weather.

Anyhoo, after eating and finishing my final beer, I put the leather back on and rode home. About halfway to the house, I began regretting my choice of open-fingered, warm weather gloves, as my fingertips became almost numb from the wind chill that my riding created. With my stiff digits, working the clutch was -- well -- a challenge, to say the least. I let it out sloppily, almost laying an unintentional "patch" of burnt rubber behind me at one stop sign. Glad there was no cop around, to witness that. And my right hand, on the front brake, wasn't much more capable, as I nearly stood myself on my head twice, when stopping. Most of any bike's stopping power is in that front brake, so a little goes a long way, unless you have half-frozen hands!

But I kept on keeping on and soon was rumbling into the alleyway behind the Dawg House. I stopped just before I reached my rear driveway and began fumbling in my tank bag for the garage door opener I stash in it. I found the opener okay, got it out, aimed it, more or less, at the door and mashed the button with my stiff fingers. Nothing happened. Too many trees, dog enclosures, and other junk in the way, blocking the signal from the controller. So, I raised the thing overhead and mashed it again. This time I saw the interior lights I had left on, as the door started up on its tracks. Now, to put the opener away, so I could ride up the driveway and into the garage. Couldn't get the tank bag to cooperate, with my cold-stiffened fingers. Not to mention the fact that I was doing it one-handed, as my left hand was still squeezing the clutch lever the entire time. And I was also holding the controller in my right hand at the same time I was fumbling around with the bag.

Well, dinkus-dang, I exclaimed (NOT my exact words!) I fumbled around on my jacket, but in the position I was sitting in, it was nearly impossible to jam the controller into a pocket. So, I tried to hold it against the handgrip with my left thumb, still holding the clutch in, to free up my right hand, so I could get that dad-blamed pouch in my tank bag open! And then, naturally, I dropped the controller. It hit the ground in the blackness under the bike and I saw the battery compartment lid pop off and land next to my front wheel. Well, fiddle-dee-dee (again not my exact words!!) Golly darn it all (ditto)!!

I hit the "kill" switch on the right handlebar, swung the kickstand out, sat Miss Velvet down in the dark alley, and got off of her. Picked up the battery door and put that in my pocket, then began looking around for the rest of the controller in the darkness. No flashlight, of course, and the headlight wasn't much help at all. Didn't find it and by now, my allergies were stopping my head up from bending over for so long to search. I gave up, swung my leg over the saddle, re-started Velvet, and swung into the driveway and on into the garage, where I parked her, then got rid of my helmet and leathers.

A few minutes after that, I was in my trusty pick-em-up truck, driving around back, to the alley. I went down it slowly and spotted the missing controller at last. I was glad to see that I hadn't run over it with the bike, at least. I opened the garage door, then closed it again, insuring that the controller still worked okay. I stashed the controller in the truck, pulled some deadfall branches out of my back driveway, then went back around front and parked the truck where I usually do.

Moral of story: Next time I'm wearing full-fingered gloves. Bet on it!!!

1 comment:


hey moondawg larry,
r u still around? im looking for u.
this is shay from the old journals shays life on bouie swamp.