Favorite roadside comments?

[savagehenry]

When I'm on the bike, I often have those random meetings with people who comment on some aspect of motorcycling. Often good, sometimes not. Most are pretty rudimentary stuff, "Boy, I'll bet that's fast!", or "Not for me, too dangerous..." and the like. But there are those few, that for what ever reason, stick with you, lingering long after the encounter. Years later, this one still makes me smile...

To the day, it was the first anniversary of my purchase of my Nero Corsa. I'd never personally bought a new bike or car in my life, now on the road almost 30 years. I had one of those moments where every thing was wrong, to spend THAT kind of money, on a bike, after such a bad financial year... But several friends just died, not one made 50, and I wasn't going to wait any longer. My wife was aghast at the fact that I, ME?!? You?? Mr. Cheapo Luddite, just sent about 20% of our yearly income to some place in the ethersphere, for a bike, with lots of "extra work" ("I thought you said those kinds of bikes could be loaded with fuuk ups?!?...") that I'd never even seen, ridden or even knew existed a month ago!!!

The day was perfect. I had spent the last 10 hours riding the spectacular rolling hills of the Mississippi River Valley between Illinois, Wisconsin and Iowa. I stopped to top the tank for the 3 hour ride home. Walking in to pay, there was this kid. He was probably 12 or so. He just stares at me, allll the way in, sorta squinting like, like he was sizing me up for a fight after school for seeing "his" girl laughing with me in English class or something. On my way out, as I pass him again, he calls to me, " Hey!"

I sez, "Yeah, what's up, little man," or some such.

As solid, and as flat, as the concrete we were standing on, at that minute, looking me straight in the eye, he says...

"Mister, Ah seen more motorcycles come by here today n'you ever seen in yer life."

He was SO certain, so FULL of the moment. Youth is refreshingly brash, "tasting it" again in your memories. I didn't bother telling him Sturgis was ONLY a half a million bikes when I last went. I could have given him stories of my yard over-run with a weekend full of bikes, tents, and stoned bikers. The numerous cool, and exotic bikes I see now at the local shop. I saw the optimism, just like when I was his age, and saw those bikes. And in that moment, I was that kid, but I was here, now. I was riding that bike. Just like he will.

I said, "I bet you did, kid"

The shot is from a good friend's driveway. 3rd anniversary is coming soon...destination unchanged... Safely, Move Rapidly, S.H.

[jihem]

nice story

 

This motorbike cop stopped me once.

He passed me, showed me the sideway. I had a Ducati Superlight at the time (the version II, not the one with wheels made out of pasta). I wasn't speeding per se, but was right on the limit.

He came to me, looked at the bike with a smile and said

"my other bike is a Ducati 888. I love it."

I said: "that's a fast bike. How do you do to remain within speed limits, being a cop (no need to turn around the core of the problem)?"

 

-Oh, did he reply, I never go faster than 120 kmh (speed limit in Belgium).

Per wheel.

 

He laughed, went back to his Police Beemer and was soon gone with what looked like a mini wheelie

[The Monkey]

Good idea Henry! Definitely a bonus to riding alone is the interchange that results. I was trying to avoid the "law" story but one has always stuck with me, happened early on, a bizarre enough experience to retain the detail. I was working on a boat in Marathon (Florida Keys) winter 82-83. Spring was on and so was Daytona Bike Week. The overtown riots were pretty much over but I had witnessed cars burning in the streets etc and to a kid from Canada that meant stay clear. So I'm ripping up I-95 left lane to zip by Miami. Up ahead a trooper has another bike hauled over. Just as I'm going past the trooper leaps out towards me and does the exaggerated "pull in ahead" gesture. Surprise, speed, recovery etc carry me on about 5-600 feet. I stop bewildered and wait. The other bike leaves and the trooper walks towards me, long walk, warm day, slapping his leg with the ticket book all the way, this may not be good. The trooper is right out of the movies, reflective aviators on, pressed uniform, tight hat band. It is entertaining so I open with

"Pretty dangerous jumping out into traffic like that isnt it?

He barks "You were in the EXCLUSIVE Lane with no passenger!" "License!" we both have to yell as the white noise of the traffic drowns most everything out. "What? Exclusive lane?" I hand him my license. So he explains the rules of this lane in a shrill voice. Ok its a commuter lane, never seen one before. "Don't have these where I'm from!"

"Where're you from!" I point at the license, bound to be easier to read than to keep hollering. but no.

"Where you from ANSWER!"

"British Columbia!"

I can see myself reflected in the lenses, he is still, quiet, maybe 10 seconds standing there 3 feet away.

"You're a DRUG SMUGGLER!!!" I see my own surprise in his glasses

"No I'm not!" I think of the clarity of the blow in Florida and how I had purchased well over an ounce of Columbian Gold in a sealed can that winter for $35. "If I smuggled drugs from BC to Florida, I would go broke!"

He is even more still! I stop staring at the shades and see a badge on his chest declaring his skill as a marksman, nifty little badge, crossed revolvers. Cool, I grew up with those, considered myself a damn good shot. Try a little chit chat to calm the oddball down.

"Your a good shot eh?" He jumps, turns and drops without loosing his grip on the ticket book, my license though sails to the median bounces off it luckily staying on our side. His other hand pops the top of his holster, doesn't draw it fully but hand is on the Butt, just leaves it there crouched on one knee and bellows "You carrying a weapon?" His hat is still on perfectly and his glasses haven't moved.

Jesus Christ I'm standing there a 20 yr old kid, Its Miami! 7 out of 10 cars going past us are packing! My leather jacket has been open since I was waiting for him to finish with the other biker! "No!" I holler. He straightens up fastens his holster top and points his finger at my folding knife sheath and states "That is a concealed weapon, I can charge you with concealed weapon." This is a pleasantry and the closest he has come to smiling.

"Actually that is a tool good for fuel lines, oil lines, electrical, making a fire, and its a bottle opener too."

"The way your jacket sits over it makes it CONCEALED."

"A CONCEALED TOOL, mind if I pick up my license I dont want it lost in the traffic."

"DON'T you move!" walks over to my license, stands on it, bends down, shifts his cowboy boot grabs it, looks at it for the first time and says, "You people, all coming here"

"Do you know where BC is?"

"South"

"Do you know where California is?"

"Course I do!"

"OK, Oregon is above California, then Washington State is above Oregon"

"Washington isn't over there!"

"Not DC, the State itself, anyway BC is above that, goes all the way to Alaska, twice as big as Texas!" a lie I know but him standing on my license with his shitkickers on got my goat.

Hatband tight as ever, back he goes to his car. It must take a steady diet of red meat and cheese to make a man walk like that. I sit on the median, head pounding from the traffic fumes, noise and the effort of communication. It takes him another 10 minutes to drive up, staring straight ahead, barely stops, doesn't look at me, those glasses staring straight ahead, hands me my license and ticket and says,

"I'd get out of this State if I were you." and barrels off. I look at my ticket $90 on I 95. Big ticket! Adios

I went to the Daytona party, watched Roberts race about all by himself, partook in the madness and left Florida on April Fools day. Every law enforcement individual has been a breeze since that twirp. Cheers

[Admin Jaap]

Great story! Thanks for sharing

[jihem]

Wild !!!

[DeBenGuzzi]

I've been pulled over 3 times, twice on the V11 and once on the RSVR, one for not coming to a full stop at a light for a right turn, one for tabs and the last for speeding on the Aprilia, all three times I've gotten off with a warning and a remark like "cool bike" The tabs I just forgot to put on after I got her all setup on the first nice day but he could see in the computer I did pay for them, speeding was 5am on my way to work and he could tell so said to be sure to slow it down on that stretch of road they're always waiting(big speed trap I guess) and the no stop on red I wanted to get into a busy almost highway like road from a side street and I saw the gap and took it, too bad the set of headlights coming was a cop, but I tell you its hard to get a ticket on a nice bike

[Dan M]

Great story Henry and great place to ride. I have a friends who have a place in Galena. I haven't been out there in years but need to make a plan. Your story may give be the kick I need.

Thanks for sharing.

 

I have a quickie.

 

About 5 years ago I was in Italy. We had stopped in one of the typical Tuscan hill towns for a break. A tour bus pulls up and it's white haired passengers start to file off. One older fella breaks from the line and walks over to admire the bikes not realizing we are Americans like himself. As he passes me I ask: Wadda ya think? He looks at me wide eyed, "You're American?" Yep. "You're riding these?" Yep. "How did you get them here?" They're rentals. He paused for a minute shook his head and said "I'm stuck on a f*cking bus" and turned and walked off. As we left I saw him on a side walk watching us. I gave him a wave and he tipped his hat. Kept me smiling the rest of the day.

[markscura]

Hey Guys I dont post much on this site but I always read it. I have a story from 2007 I was riding a rental bike in Western Turkey. I had just pulled up at the entrance to Troy I had just passed about 10 coach buses in the queue. As I got off the bike an old man approached me and said" Are you riding that bike here on your own?" I said" Yeah just for a few weeks" He recognised my Aussie accent and was supprised to to find me there. He looked down at his feet and said that he wished he had done simlar things when he was young. As I looked over at the coach various elderly people were getting off with walking frames and such. It was such a depressing sight. It makes me glad that Iam a motorcyclist and have a sense of adventure! It was a fantastic trip I cant recomend riding a bike in Turkey enough.

[Greg Field]

Welcome to our police state, Monkey.

 

I'd tell the story of the Mountie who stopped us just outside of Hyder, AK, but the contrast'd probably make me weep.

 

The bottom line is that you Canuckians raise more moral children than we idjit Yanks do.

[Admin Jaap]

Last year in England when I stopped for lunch this old geezer (walking with a kane) stops and gives me that typical british biker's nod. I didn't realize at first that it meant he was, or used to be a biker too. So I couldn't help asking: "it must be really annoying to have such an odd nervous tic" Just kidding, I didn't...

The bloke said: "now that's a decent bike!" Of course I agreed and the he went on and on about all the Nortons, BSA's and Ariels he used to ride in the 50's and 60's. Great guy and some great stories!

 

Honda was right with their advertising campaign in the 60's: "You meet the nicest people on a Guzzi"

[jihem]

The time was 1977, the place was the frontier between Togo and Benin (Africa). I was riding a lended Honda 500 Four, and on my way to Lome, the headtown of Togo, coming from Cotonou, capital of Benin, where I was living at the time. Benin was in turmoil as a pro-soviet revolution had happened. There were soldiers all over the place, and there were control points all over the few towns, and banners everywhere reading "Down With The Imperialists" and "Long Life The People's Revolution". It was tense, and westerners were checked all the time as paranoia levels were high. A westerner had to be a spy, see.

 

I was riding that Honda on the lone way to Lome, where i was to meet with some friends. The bike was great, altho the roads were so bad that one couldn't really ride the bike more than riding between the potholes. On a stretch of road, i could see a checkpoint approaching. I didn't have the papers of the bike on me and hoped for a swift control.

 

As soon as the bike stops, the soldiers took an aggressive stand. One was shouting at me to show my ID or passport while the other put the mouth of his AK47 in my back. The situation was very tense altho I wasn't really scared as i was just thinking real fast, trying to come up with things to say that would ease the ambiance. The soldier in charge was shouting, and was asking me "what you're going to do in Lome ? Who are you" ?

 

I don't know why, but i told him "Colonel, colonel, I'm going to see the ladies, i'm going to see the ladies in Lome, Women,I want women !".

The guy stares at me for a second, a very looooong second, and then burst into hysteric laughs ! Women, he shouts, women ! His camarade put down the AK, and they both now laugh, and i laugh too, out of tension. The control now isn't no more, and actually i came down the bike, offered them a cigarette and we were all sitting under a tree, smoking the Marlboros while talking about women, about Cotonou, about nothing, just being in the moment, really.

 

I loved Africa so much.

[Steve G.]

Ahhhh, the stories I could tell. Well, just one for starters. Back in 2004, I was in Eureka, California, I was running an IPA tour [india Pale Ale] for our club, basically sampling/judging IPA's in the U.S. western states. We were waiting for one to open up, so were browzing across the street at a funky antique shop. An old fellow, seeing our leathers, comes up to me, and asks in thick Irish slang "You lads ever heard of the Isle of Man TT?", I said, "Yeah, I went there for TT-94". "aye", he says, " you must of heard of my neighbour, young Phil McCallen?". " What a lovely young lad, he quit racing you know, much too dangerous he says".

We bought he and his wife a round, and could not help but think how small this world really is.

 

Steve

[ferguzzi]

In 2002 I was touring my brand new Tenni down to serbia and back. Somewhere inland of Zadar in Croatia I found a winding corkscrew hill that just screamed to be thrashed, and there might have been a few oppertunistic overtakes of ladas along the way.

It took maybe 20 minutes, and I think I climbed a few thousand feet, only to find 2 cops at the very top who had been monitoring my progress all the way from the bottom.

Cops were everywhere then, I think they just gave the majority of the army a change of uniform once the war was over, and told them to carry on.

Anyway, these lads were very pissed off, and starting bleating to me in croatian, which oddly I don't speak, mostly about dangerous riding ,speeding, rape, genocide, who knows?

It seems the massive fine was in the region of $10 us. A large amount to them. I looked suitably ashamed and scared. They eventually took pity on me, and let me on my way.

Just as I was about to start up, one of them looked at me, gestured to the bike , and did his best Fonz impression.....

"Moto guzzi, ehhhhhhhhhhhh....". Gave me a thumbs up, and ambled off.

[savagehenry]

Great story Henry and great place to ride. I have a friends who have a place in Galena. I haven't been out there in years but need to make a plan. Your story may give be the kick I need.

Thanks for sharing.

 

I have a quickie.

 

About 5 years ago I was in Italy. We had stopped in one of the typical Tuscan hill towns for a break. A tour bus pulls up and it's white haired passengers start to file off. One older fella breaks from the line and walks over to admire the bikes not realizing we are Americans like himself. As he passes me I ask: Wadda ya think? He looks at me wide eyed, "You're American?" Yep. "You're riding these?" Yep. "How did you get them here?" They're rentals. He paused for a minute shook his head and said "I'm stuck on a f*cking bus" and turned and walked off. As we left I saw him on a side walk watching us. I gave him a wave and he tipped his hat. Kept me smiling the rest of the day.

Dan, great story. Should remind us all that our time is borrowed, and no one else can have your fun for you, so "do it before you can't!!!". That being said, I'm planning on being out there for the Iowa Rally the week after the 4th of July. Anyone from around these parts want to follow me out, you're more than welcome. I say "follow" because you will see the backside of the Nero, unless you're named Valentino R...(stated with tongue placed firmly in cheek!)

[The Monkey]

The time was 1977, the place was the frontier between Togo and Benin (Africa). I was riding a lended Honda 500 Four, and on my way to Lome, the headtown of Togo, coming from Cotonou, capital of Benin, where I was living at the time. Benin was in turmoil as a pro-soviet revolution had happened. There were soldiers all over the place, and there were control points all over the few towns, and banners everywhere reading "Down With The Imperialists" and "Long Life The People's Revolution". It was tense, and westerners were checked all the time as paranoia levels were high. A westerner had to be a spy, see.

 

I was riding that Honda on the lone way to Lome, where i was to meet with some friends. The bike was great, altho the roads were so bad that one couldn't really ride the bike more than riding between the potholes. On a stretch of road, i could see a checkpoint approaching. I didn't have the papers of the bike on me and hoped for a swift control.

 

As soon as the bike stops, the soldiers took an aggressive stand. One was shouting at me to show my ID or passport while the other put the mouth of his AK47 in my back. The situation was very tense altho I wasn't really scared as i was just thinking real fast, trying to come up with things to say that would ease the ambiance. The soldier in charge was shouting, and was asking me "what you're going to do in Lome ? Who are you" ?

 

I don't know why, but i told him "Colonel, colonel, I'm going to see the ladies, i'm going to see the ladies in Lome, Women,I want women !".

The guy stares at me for a second, a very looooong second, and then burst into hysteric laughs ! Women, he shouts, women ! His camarade put down the AK, and they both now laugh, and i laugh too, out of tension. The control now isn't no more, and actually i came down the bike, offered theSm a cigarette and we weyre all sitting under a tree, smoking the Marlboros while talking about women, about Cotonou, about nothing, just being in the moment, really.

 

I loved Africa so much.

Now thats a story, where the hell are the rest of you? Think back, something should tick. Cant let this idea fall, it is too good, especially with the access of this medium.

Turkish/Syrian border; "How do I look?" this from a 5 foot human who is 4 feet wide! Uh, too fat I say, remove the top 3 layers and declare those. I'm on a bus with the locals crossing. Every one including the driver is smuggling, all Syrians, we spend 6 hours at the border with at least 3 people in identical horizontal striped yellow and blue sweaters ballooning about like the start of some sailing race. The officials have had their fill as of Wednesday and go through the process with bovine acceptance. Later we reel out of the rest stop, having relieved ourselves in a dark pit where the first solid encumbrance is human waste-squat here. The bus driver is busy putting out the engine room fire thanks to his loading of nasty acrylic blankets about the mill and is intent on saving what he can. It aint bike, I know, but it is on the road. Cheers