It was the day of registration for the Nelson RAT Raid... a handful of us were gathered at my place, an hour's ride to the event, waiting for a break in the clouds to roll out those last remaining miles. Finally and with trepidation in our hearts we braved the the chance to push on through to the final destination.
Now I'd intended to ride to Nelson with the boys, then return with Larry to my place later on (I'm in the habit of commuting to the Raid and Larry was staying with me). And I figured it might rain and I HATE getting my Trumpet dirty so I decided to take the XL350 instead. Well let me tell you, the skies opened up with torrential rains enough to raise concern for ride and rider. And while riding over to Nelson I checked my fogged out rear view mirrors often and at one point I saw no one behind me save Bob and his Rocket. Where were the others? I soon pulled over with Bob who said the others had pulled over some time back... possibly to get out of the rain. I turned around and soon came across three drowned RATs in the throws of pushing Larry's bike off the road to a nearby parking area. Larry's bike had sadly, broken down.
And the rain was pouring down in Biblical proportions. A man appeared from a nearby building and offered to put Larry's bike under a roof which is where we put it. And then the reality of transportation became a reality. Larry and I had to get back to my place while the others carried onto the Raid.
"Larry" I said, "you have two choices... you can hitchhike back to my place, or get on the back of this here XL350 and ride back with me." THAT'S when the double trouble kicked in 'cause Larry opted to ride back with me. I straddled forward as much as I could to give room for Larry to mount his tall and lanky frame on the back. And I was almost riding the whole way back on the friggin' tank while Larry struggled to stay with the bike and together we tunneled through the driving rain in an effort to get back to where we started out... back at my home.
What an ordeal... what a sight!! Two friggin' drenched old farggin' farts seemingly glued together atop a vintage dirt bike, making their way through pounding rain, barely able to distinguish grey road from grey backdrop at 60 MPH while every pocket, shoe and glove filled with rain, seeping right through to the bone, replacing marrow with water!!!
We made it we did... and man was I glad to get off the bike (and so was Larry). And after pouring water from my boots and changing clothes we were able to start thinking about what to do about Larry's bike. Whew...
Later on my friend and neighbour came over and offered to retrieve the bike with his truck. We accepted his gracious offer. Later on again, Friar showed up who just happened to be carrying not one, but 2 spare CDIs. The following (and much drier) morning we swapped out CDIs on Larry's bike and it fired right up!!!!
There is a GOD and his name is Friar!!!
So... there's a story for ya. If you're in trouble might as well make it a double and get it over with!!!
