Hello everyone, here’s my attempt at a journalist impression of this past weekends Arkansas Rally with some artistic license taken...
Some background first, a couple of weeks ago my buddy JohnC had mentioned if I’d like to go to this Triumph Rally at the end of October. Since I’ve been test driving his Triumph Speedmaster for about a year and 3000 miles, I figure why not. It’s been a busy year at home with remodeling, kids in College, teens, work and such. I was in need of a little decompression anyway. So with the blessings of my wife Saint Margaret, Patron Saint of all who put up with me, I sign on.
As part of my therapy for this trip. I had decided I would go totally with the flow of things. I didn’t want to make any decisions other then to go. So for me, no maps, no GPS, no plan, no schedule, just go. (If you know me then you know this is completely not my normal Modus Operandi.)
Friday morning weather briefing confirmed what will probably go in the record as the 3 most spectacular weather days of 2010. With that knowledge we hit the road at 10am’ish on a high speed blast west bound on Hwy 40. Arriving in Russellville in way too short a time later, we stop for a light lunch and fuel top off. With that out of the way, and anticipation peeking for us to get into the more interesting ride northbound up Hwy 7, away we go!
So there we are tooling along Northbound on Hwy 7, enjoying the road, the ride, the view, just having a real ‘Zone’ experience. Life is simple, Life is good! Somewhere out in the middle of the Ozark National Forest things changed for me. While enjoying a medium tight climbing right hand sweeper the Speedmaster goes quiet. Immediately pulling the clutch in, and a quick glance down at the tank- no lights, no tach, no good. I continue coasting up hill as far as she’ll take me and pull over onto the nice 18 inch shoulder Arkansas Department of Highways so kindly laid for us adjacent to the 50 foot unguarded drop-off. Next I secure the bike, dismount, evaluate the situation, and with the coolness of a Jedi Master determine to cross the road so I don’t get splattered on the grill of some truck and hope the bike doesn’t get blown off the cliff. (Luckily at this point I have not purchase the bike yet, so if she goes over- oh well!)
Now things get really interesting. At this point I’m safe, and the bike is safe (relatively speaking) so help is just a phone call away,-NOT! First attempts to a call are futile. Being in the middle of nowhere Verizon obviously determine cell coverage was optional out here. I hike up the hill a few hundred yards and manage to gather one bar worth of signal strength, yes! I dial up the wife who’s on standby ‘just in case’ and while communicating through a broken signal I get spanked with a dead cell phone battery. Not knowing how much my wife caught of my transmission, I head back down the hill to reassess things.
A quick look at the bike and I determine the battery has gone south, not to big a deal. To bad in my zest to depart home I did not transfer my tools from my current riding gear. Still not to bad. Eventually my buddy JohnC will notice I’m not behind him. I’m sure he’ll turn around and back track until we cross paths again.
So over the next 2.5 hours I wave off some offers for help. The guy with the beat up, bald tire Harley hybrid, offered to get his truck from Jasper and come get me and the bike, another Harley guy stopped and let me make a call off his phone, which was really cool since I was able to get a full conversation in with the wife and she started making calls on my behalf. I waved off a sweet Triumph ride as well. I figured this won’t be too much longer. Well much later I start feeling like the guy in the joke who feel off the boat and wave off the submarine, helicopter, and sailboat offers to help because ‘God’ will save him. With that thought I decided in the next half hour if no one shows up, I’ll turn the bike around and coast it back down the hill. That’s got to be better the walking. Just wish I had a watch or phone so I’d know what time it is.
Some time later, between aggravation and desperation a large group of bikes pulls over. Great, I think. I waited to freeking long. I should have gone with the Harley guy with the truck. Now I’m going to get my butt kicked and bike stolen! Dang it!
Well those’s that were there know what goes down next. A great bunch of guys helped out a complete stranger, lending tools and bike parts to get me over the mountain to Jasper, where unbelievably I find a battery to purchase! The great people of the Ozark café let me set up camp in the corner of their store and offered me drinks of rehydration. After I got the bike back together with more borrowed tools, I was able to chillax in the rocking chair, and reflect on the events that made up the bulk of the first day of my first Rally. Life is good, and things really are not as bad out there as TV makes it seem. If you just listen, breath and except your conditions you will be provided for.
The follow two days were just full of mountain vistas, meals with new friends, fireside jokes, Pie girl, good beer, breathtaking pictures, fond memories, and 806 miles of bucket list riding.
With that under the belt, I look forward to when our paths cross again, and to next years ride!
Cheers to all!
