Well, the mute-American sportfish syndrome (Dumb*** Disease) finally hit. I was backing the America out of the garage, when turning left, the centrifugal force of the turn sent me (unprepared) to the right. Thank God my right leg took most of the cushioning, but it's quite embarrassing to be "riding" your motorcycle sideways in the middle of your driveway. Thank goodness it was oh-dark-thirty, and no neighbors were out. Only scratched the back of my right mirror, very end of the front brake lever, and tweaked the bracket for the right fore-pumpkin, and end of the light bar. Nothing some vice grips and sand paper can't take care of, the mirror isn't all that bad...
In typical (new society) American fashion, I have to blame someone, so here's to FCTush, who sold me his Auburn bags, that are so huge compared to my Triumph "sixpack 'o piece, and that's all bags" that I could hear an echo when talked to myself, as I looked into them. Musta put too much in them (tools, clothing, parts, a used VW for emergencies, etc.)
Now, if I can just figure out where I lost my cell phone (somewhere between Gunnison and Canon City) I'll be okay.
