| Author | Message | ||
     Stormfool |
Had some money coming and got me dreaming about owning a new cycle. Looked at Triumphs (Speed Triple, RS) MotoGuzzi (Lemans V11, Tenna) Ducatis (ST4 only one 6'-3" 230# me'll fit on) Aprillia (RSV SVT) BMWs(RS1150, BigBaggers) even the Hondas and Yomamasaho (never mind) but a Demo ride on an X1 (full race kit) just kinda fuzzed my head up. Couldn't stop thinking about that peculiar feeling wheelying a "Harley" brought to the old ChuffNuts. First time I go to the dealer to arrange the demo ride perfect blue sky clouds up and pisses down on me as I scoot home on the old Bonneville. The day I demo the bike again beautiful clear weather changes to Ominous black clouds. Baboom! Lightning cracking down as head back to the dealer. Hmmm. Decide about a week later to plunk down a deposit--as I ride over to the dealer the sky only behind the Buell shop gets nasty, 30 MPH gust, rain and, as I walk in the door--lightning cracks nearby. I joke with the salesman about the coincidence. He's so happy to take my bread he's perking about anything. Waiting about forever (one weekend) for my money to free up, ask my girl to drop me at the shop so I can pick up my new Buell. Again out of clear sky thunderhead begin to build as we head across town. We pull into the parking lot. I have just opened the car door when BAHBOOM a huge blast of Lightning announces my arrival. Hmmmm. Of course my first ride is in a torrential downpour complete with lightshow. Decided to take the bike up into the Blue Ridge and call my Dad in Virginia. He complains that the entire area is suffering from months of drought. He hasn't seen rain all spring and summer. Nonetheless I pack watertight and bring the weather gear. Bike is totally loaded with gear for ultralite camping--saddlebags, tailpack, double tankbag. Get out of Florida with only one major downpour--leaving the storm behind--but not for long. By the time I got into Georgia the Storm was on my heels. Just as I entered the Blue Ridge and set up camp the rain and lightning settled in for the night. There is no colder, fatter raindrop than a mountain raindrop! Tent kept me dry, gear mostly and I set off down the road towards Virginia. Everytime I stopped to burn one, or grab a bite that coldass lightning storm rolled up on me. I had no desire to camp another night in the rain and settled into a 500 or 600 mile ride to Dad's house. That storm was right on my heels as I rolled down 58 past Lovers Leap, bigass trucks throwing spray and crowding my butt. One lightning bolt struck so close i could smell the electrocuted pine trees and ozone in the heatwave rolling off the strike. I pull into dad's carport and as I dismount drops start to spatter the dry leaves. "Dad, I thought you said it wasn't raining up here!" He couldn't believe it was actually raining--thought I was joking until he poked his nose outside. Almost everytime I set out for a lengthy trip on the X1 I can count on having to run a storm. If it wasn't so wierd I probably would've shrugged it off as the feverish imaginings of a drug-addled mind. They call it a Lightning, don't they? | ||
| Sparky |
Bad Weather Bikers' BBS is the best campfire on the internet to tell this tale. Thanks, Stormfool, for taking us on the ride, Sparky | ||
| Blake |
Stormfool, I'd be afraid for you to ride a Firebolt. If you do, please wear a nomex suit.  Great tale. Thanks for sharing. Reminded me of some of my two wheeled wet weather adventures, of which there have been many. | ||
| Ebear |
Hey Stormfool.... PLEASE NEVER RIDE A CYCLONE !!!!!!!! | ||
| Rudebike |
Stormy, I normally pass on essays, but I enjoyed yours. Keep up the riding and the writing. |
