Tuesday, May 31, 2016
As ribbons of light from the early morning sun streamed through my bedroom window I awoke with thoughts of sunshine, the smell of leather, and the rumble of pipes filling my still groggy mind.
It was a perfect day for for a much awaited ride on the bikes. As I downed my coffee I pulled my long blonde hair into a pony tail, jumped into my jeans, selected a shirt, socks, tied up my boots and was off to the garage to ready the baby to ride.
We warmed the bikes, checking all crucial components, geared up, and took off for what we thought was going to be an incredible day of feeling the wind, seeing the country, and being free for the day.
We were about three miles into our ride when one of the bikes sputtered, backfired, and quit. I had been leading and in my mirror saw the bike pulled to the side of the road.
I climbed off of my steel horse, took off my helmet, placed it on the road behind my bike (the sign of a rider in trouble) and walked back to see what was going wrong.
|THIS is the signal for needing help|
The bike would start then die, start then die. He placed his helmet on the road behind his bike. If you are a BIKER you know the sign that a brother needs help.
We happen to live in a rather affluent (read clueless) area where most "bikers" put about 1500 miles a year on their bikes. They're not bikers, they're people that own a Harley and a shirt.
People, everyone, if you see a motorcycle on the side of the road, with a helmet behind it on the ground, someone is asking for help.
We watched the "weekenders," probably at least 30 motorcycles, as they passed by and waved. ONE bike did stop, but there was nothing he could do, but he stopped!
I walked back to my bike, laid in the sun and awaited further instruction, help, or whatever was going to happen.
Miraculously a van stopped and a man with a baby got out. I heard a whistle signaling me to approach. As I neared the bike the man that had stopped looked familiar. Then he removed his sun glasses. It was a very good friend of my oldest son that I hadn't seen in years!
He had no idea who he was stopping to help, but he knew the signal and stopped. He helped us get the bike running well enough to get it home, then came over about an hour later and they tinkered with it some more.
Kyle, thank you. You are a gentleman, a biker, and a friend. I find it ironic the kid I have known for 15 years or so had no idea as to whom he was stopping to help and as it turned out it was his good friend's mom and her boyfriend.
People, riders, everyone, if you see a bike(s) with a helmet on the ground behind them they need help. Possibly they haven't been able to reach anyone because their phone had died, perhaps another reason, but at least stop and ask if they need something. If you don't feel comfortable at least pull up, crack your window and ask what the problem is. You could very well be the one that makes the difference between life and death.
As to all the "bikers" that waved and smiled as they rode by, sell your toy and take up golf. You're SO not bikers and you should be ashamed of yourselves.
I do have to say, all things considered, I'm very thankful it was Kyle, the guy in a mini van with a baby, that stopped. Thank you Kyle. You so rock!
|It was planned to be a good day|
|Loving my pony tail in the mirror|
|At least I had a great view|
|Not a happy biker|
|Need some help here|
|Taking a break|
|Catching some rays|
|Help arrived! Divine intervention!|
If you're going to ride learn the signals.