Highmiles
05-19-2007, 08:39 AM
I got a call from my Buddy on Wednesday, asking to have dinner together. No, problem, the wife and I take him out to dinner, and during dinner he pops the question. How about riding to Myrtle Beach for the end of bike week. Sounds like fun, and the wife, bless her heart, says go for it guys. Well, it seems he has a buddy from Maryland who rode down on a new Street Glide, and since my buddy has a new Heritage, they get to show off their new rides to each other. Thursday morning we head out for the beach, I brought a spare t-shirt, and he figured he'd get one at the rally. Nothing like packing light. We stop for breakfast, and I notice my left exhaust is hanging a little low. Seems the bracket from the fender to the saddle bag support broke when I used the highway bar and left exhaust as a kick stand in Daytona. Don't ask. It really didn't show, because the exhaust hanger bracket from the rear fender held everthing in place. Well, that only works so long. That bracket had finally vibrated in half, so the left muffler was in danger of becoming a spark show in short order. Zip ties to the rescue. had to stop occasionally, for replacement, but that was a temporary fix. Go to the local Harley dealer at the beach, no part in stock. They locate one in Wilmington, NC and they hold it for me. Meanwhile he calls his buddy. No answer. WTF. We go to the convention center to check out activity, and he calls his buddy again. No answer. We go get something to eat, 'cause we haven't eaten since breakfast, and we're starved. He calls his buddy afterward. No answer. We look for a room at the beach. No Vacancy. Look for buddy. No answer. Head to Wilmington to be there as dealer opens. Skies get ominously cloudy. Decide to take the ferry for part of the trip, so I can try to work on ever increasing muffler problem. During the ferry ride, a little girl decides to feed the seagulls next to our bikes. NEVER feed the seagulls. They will reward you with a bomb you will NOT like. I was upset at first to be getting covered in white, and seeing our bikes receive the same teatment, but it all worked out in the end. The heavy rain that began shortly, washed us, and our bikes up very well indeed. Ride up Kure Beach in the rain, and my buddy mentions he knows a guy on the PD here. We stop a cop, and find out his friend is working. We get together for dinner with the guy, and he is a super guy, glad to get to meet him. If you look at our table, my buddy and I are the ones with the puddle under us. he recommends a cheap but clean motel across the street. We got the room with the party over it. Lasted until we heard the bags of beer cans being dragged out at 6:45 the next morning. Put on still wet clothes with the exception of the dry t-shirt, and we head to dealer. 237 other people broke down at the beach, and are all in line in front of us. Coastal Carolina Harley-Davidson, still worked us in and took care of us. They also had free lunch for everybody. Nice guys, use 'em if you get a chance.
Now, this has been an absolutely lovely trip so far, but we head home anyway. I forget that my tank holds one more gallon than my buddies tank. After getting stopped for major construction with an hour delay and creep, I am reminded of the fact, when my buddy runs out of gas with no way to pull off the road, in the middle of it all. 7 miles later, I find a station, buy a can, fill it with gas, buy cord to tie it to the sissy bar, and head back. As I fill his tank, he mentions all the bikers on the way back from the beach waved as they went by. No one stopped to check on him. My how things have changed. I can understand it though. We stopped three times on the way to the beach for stopped bikes on the roadside. Each time, they were making a call on their cell phone. No breakdown. Oh well. We at last make it home, and buddy says, "I owe you one." "Let me take you guys out to dinner." Great idea, but he lost his wallet apparently, somewhere on the way home. Oh well.
I bought.
Now it would be real easy to get upset about some/all of this, but I thought about how it was when I first started riding on pieced together bikes. I had no money and no luck, most of the time. Back then it was an adventure, and this trip brought back a lot of those same memories. If you are with friends, it really doesn't matter. I still had a good time.
Highmiles
Now, this has been an absolutely lovely trip so far, but we head home anyway. I forget that my tank holds one more gallon than my buddies tank. After getting stopped for major construction with an hour delay and creep, I am reminded of the fact, when my buddy runs out of gas with no way to pull off the road, in the middle of it all. 7 miles later, I find a station, buy a can, fill it with gas, buy cord to tie it to the sissy bar, and head back. As I fill his tank, he mentions all the bikers on the way back from the beach waved as they went by. No one stopped to check on him. My how things have changed. I can understand it though. We stopped three times on the way to the beach for stopped bikes on the roadside. Each time, they were making a call on their cell phone. No breakdown. Oh well. We at last make it home, and buddy says, "I owe you one." "Let me take you guys out to dinner." Great idea, but he lost his wallet apparently, somewhere on the way home. Oh well.
I bought.
Now it would be real easy to get upset about some/all of this, but I thought about how it was when I first started riding on pieced together bikes. I had no money and no luck, most of the time. Back then it was an adventure, and this trip brought back a lot of those same memories. If you are with friends, it really doesn't matter. I still had a good time.
Highmiles