Happy Holidays! - Triumph Riders Association of Portland

yelled to Bryan.Easing off on the left throttle the Sprint began to sink. Thethrusters were keeping everything stable and the bike was droppinglike a rock. A little pressure on the right side of the barspivoted the bike just in time to miss some trees and it settlednicely on the road.Boy, talk about the middle of nowhere, Justin thought tohimself. A brief inspection revealed that the goose had simplyplugged the intake and choked out the motor with minimaldamage. A quick removal of the goose and the intake was clear.“Wow, this new aluminum oxide-milate material is some stuff,”Bryan yelled. “There’s hardly a mark on the paint.”Justin stabbed the starter button but the Sprint only made amuffled whining sound as a few feathers coughed out the back.“Uh-oh, here’s the problem,” Bryan exclaimed. “The motor isclogged with feathers, and they are behind the intake screen.”CRAP! Damn birds, Justin thought.“Hey don’t worry, New Baker City is just 75 miles that way,”Bryan said. “I’ll zip over and see if there is a service ship at oneof the dealerships that can come out and get you.”Justin sat down on the road, watching as Bryan took off.Looking around he could see the mountains row after row asthey stretched into the distance with the afternoon sun gleamingdown on them. The wind was blowing steadily through the treesand there was nothing but it’s sound once Bryan had left. Therewas a strange peace in all of it Justin thought, with the grassrustling and the trees moving in the wind. He looked up andcould see the clouds moving slowly across the summer sky. It allseemed so odd to him. He had never really looked at the landscapefrom the ground before, because he was always so busyscanning the horizon from the air. I could get used to this, hethought, as he lay back on the asphalt and just stared up at thesky.Iwas really enjoying the solitude as my Bonnie swung backand forth over the winding road. This particular strip of asphalthadn’t seemed to change much in 65 years. The cowdroppings were still there and the road was still fun. Whatthe!!!………. Slamming on the brakes my Bonneville came to aquick stop as a young man in a skintight silver and red riding suitsprang up from the asphalt.“You trying to get yourself killed laying in the road like that!”I yelled to the surprised rider.“Hey, sorry about that. I really didn’t expect to see anyone oranything on this road,” he replied.I stepped off the Bonneville, pulled off my helmet and approachedthe man and his stone quiet air-bike. I could see hisT.R.A.P. emblem across the back of the rear cowling.“You headed to the Baker City Rally?” I asked.“Yeah, we are, and… hey, you’re the guy I saw in Grass Valleyearlier, huh?” Justin asked.“Yeah, just thought I would give the old girl one last ride beforeall the roads were gone forever,” I replied. I just had to laughas I looked at the front of the Sprint AT, where there were featherseverywhere and the remains of a Canada Goose were alongside the road.“Looks like you had a meeting with a foreigner,” I said.“Yeah, a whole flock of them,” Justin replied. “They pluggedmy intake with some feathers and my friend left to go get help”.Knowing that the gas station in Ukiah has almost every repairitem known to God and man, I suggested that we head back thefew miles and see what they might have that would get thosefeathers out of there.“On THAT thing?” Justin exclaimed.“Aw come on, it won’t bite you,” I replied.Riding along with Justin on the back, the Bonnie still rodegood. Justin was really clinging tight to me and I think he wasmore afraid of riding on the ground than he was of being up inthe air.Arriving at Ukiah, we inquired about something for thefeather plugged Sprint.“Oh yeah, you’re not the first person to have that problem,” theold guy at the station said. “Here, take a can of this compressedair back with you. That ought to blow the feathers out.”Justin now had to hold the can under one arm, and hang on tome with the other. Not any big deal really, but I think he wouldhave rather walked!We arrived back at the Sprint and shot the compressed airinto the intake as Justin sat on the bike. A big burst of feathersbillowed out the back and into the air.“There, try her now son,” I said.The big Sprint whined and spun up coming to life with evenmore feathers shooting out the back, albeit a slight bit roastedthis time!“Hey, it’s green across the board,” Justin yelled.“Good enough” I said, as I patted him on the shoulder. “Youbetter get going if you’re going to make it to the meet and greeton time.”“No problem” he replied. “They won’t start without me, I’mthe Pack Leader.”With a twist of his left wrist Justin shot up into the air. Aquick wave at me below and away he went, a light trail of whitesmoke and burnt feathers streaming behind him.“Humph, Pack Leader, can’t even get a few feathers out of hisengine,” I muttered. Well, I guess that’s OK, I thought to myself.We’ll see how much food he has for us tonight when I get there.My Bonnie again roared to life as I pulled on my helmet andsped off down the road. Purring along with the wind in my face,memories of old friends again filled my head. I was completelyalone on the road now, and yet all my friends were with me as Iputted along. What an incredible day for a ride. •www.rat-pack.com December 2009 11