Kali rides the desert
These are recent pixs from my ride back to Tucson from Phoenix. The occasion was meeting a delightful and beautiful woman for dinner I was thankful her room mate wasn't around.
On my way home I decide to get off the interstate to have a cup of tea from my thermos. I wasn't too far from Tucson, but felt is was better to re-fuel since I wasn't in any particular hurry, and it was refreshing to be in 70 degree wx vs 100F just before sunset in Phoenix.
It was around 3:15AM when I got off near the Pinal air Museum, in the middle of no-where. The road had a steep slope towards the gravel shoulder. I had just enough room to park at an angle so that my back tire was on asphalt and my front tire within the white line demarcating the road from the narrow break down area on the right side of the road. As I was enjoying the quiet, stars over head I open the right side case, got out my thermos, poured a nice cupa straight lemon ginseng green tea and sipped it for a bit.
I put my tea cup down and closed the side case. I desperately lunged for anything I could grab as she started to fall down. She was over farther than if she hit level pavement—I knew I was screwed!!
I walked around for a bit looking for anything I could use as a lever knowing full well that if I found anything suitable it would just break from being dried out and attacked by a variety of things—fruitless. A few cars went whizzing by on the road this exit led to. When I was back by my bike I waved my flash light at a couple of them but to no avail. Eventually and car got off this exit and I was able to flag him down. Fortunately he was very strong so the two of us were able to push my bike up right and get her on the stand. Once up right I started her and gently walked he to a more secure angle with the front tire just over the front line.
My benefactor left and I started repacking the side case which had remained open during most of this. I was dehydrated and sucking water from the Veskimo back pack, strapped to the bike. By bending over.
While re-hydrating I noticed a BIG fire truck in the distance coming down the deserted road towards me. Once opposite me they pulled over, I shined my flash light on my left had with the thumbs up signal. They started driving towards me, up onto a grass island—I kept shining the light on my thumbs up signal moving it up so that the action would attract their attention—I didn't work.
The truck stopped, a fireman exited and walk to me as I walked to him, He wanted to know if I was OK—perfectly fine.
Some passerby reported a motorcycle had been hit and the injured rider laying on the ground—Nope. Not Me; better keep looking till you find the poor fellow. After further convincing we said good night and they drove off.
While I'm finishing repacking the side case a county cop car gets off the interstate and pulls over to the side behind me.
Am I OK? Yup. Perfectly fine.
Was I in a motorcycle accident? NO. I'm not the one you are looking for. My bike fell over it took
Are you sure you weren't hit? A while for somebody to stop and help me get it up. Very sure I was NOT hit.
Could it be that passers by thought you were hit and laying on the ground? Well. Cud be..While I was trying to pick up my bike it might have looked like I was laying on the ground as I shoved a rock under the tip over wing to get it a little higher.
After chatting a bit he was convinced I wasn;t in an accident.
Just as we were saying good night I saw a blue light come speeding down the interstate, get off at this exit and pull over behind the county cop car. I joked with the county cop that he must be in trouble and would get a parking ticket.
As the equivalent of a state trooper gruffly walked towards me the trouble began. My name, was I in an accident?!! Some reported a motorcycle was hit and the ride lay injured on the ground.
Nope not me.
He was pissed at that point telling me how he speed down the interstate to get here.
Why are you here?!!
where did you come from!!
What were you doing there!!
Where are you going?
Why are you going to Tucson?!!
Did I have anything to drink last night? Yup. Around 8:30PM I had a beer (its well past 4AM now).
How much!!? Lets see... 16 ozs. I had a full breakfast around 12:30 or 1AM before I left Phoenix.
Am I impaired!!?? NO!! I NEVER ride after having a beer if I feel it at all, wouldn't have had that one except I planed on being there for a couple of hours and NEVER have more than one beer unless I'm where I'm going to be for the night.
He gruffly asserts he is going to give me a field sobriety test—face him, DO NOT M OVE my head and follow the pen with just my eyes. The flash light you are using in shining directly into my eyes.
DON'T Move your head and follow the pen with your eyes only.
I follow it for aways, get distracted by the light shining into my eye as I move my eye and move my head.
DON'T MOVE your head!! Stop shinning the flash light into my eye.
You DON'T TELL ME what to do!! I tell you what to do!!
Try it again. DO NOT MOVE YOUR HEAD, just your eyes. Same result with the flashlight shining into my eye.
WAIT THERE!! Off he goes. A few minutes later he returns with a breath-a-slier telling me he won't arrest me no matter what reading it is.
I HATE bullies!! My immediate reaction when being bullied around is to either not co-operate or find a way to do exactly what I am commanded to do but in a way so that the bully doe not get what the out come they demand.
I calmly tell him that I already know what the reading will be and that since the county cop is still right here that I will not be arrested.
I appreciated what you are doing cause I don't like drunk drivers. My natural reflex to being ordered around is to become testy.
I blow into the meter until it buzzes. He tells me it reads .000. I say nothing.
He tells me I have an unusual eye condition that mimics the way impaired eyes jump around when trying to follow the pen, announces the scientific name for it and asks if I'm familiar with it? Nope.
I should see an eye doctor about it. He turns around heads to his car, and speeds off into the night.
I bight my tongue about telling him the very first medication I mentioned when he demanded to know if I take any medications in combination with him shining the flash light directly into one eye probably account for what he describes as an unusual eye condition that should be checked out by an eye doctor.
The county cop walks around my bike checking it for damage, asks if it will start, I mention starting it when I got it back up, and off he goes after we say goodnight.
I go to start her up, the lights just flicker—killed the battery when I left the head light on while starting to repack, answering the fire department questions, answering the county cops questions and while going through The Spanish Inquisition, during my filed tests and lectures, during my blow into this thing and subsequent lecture!
To make along story short, I drop my bike again trying to get her going down hill to try and jump start her. It takes an hour or so before I have two people who help me get her up, one has jumper cables so we get her started. I ride off the ramp down the road aways to a flat area beside the road, let he run while I re-organize everything, drink a lot on nice cold water, some tea, and a candy bar.
By the time I'm all set to rill again I notice the sun is starting to rise and decide to shoot some pixs through sunrise.
The pixs make up for a very frustrating night dealing with my LT falling over multiple times, blunt being bullied, going through a needless field sobriety test, time wasted blowing into a meter. Plus are meeting some very nice people who stopped to help, one of them riding a 97 Fat Boy type of HD, a pleasant county cop and pleasant fireman who turns out having been in a gigantic ambulance.
Observation, the local fire department and county police do not communicate with each other. “State” police don't communicate with the local FD.
“State trooper” was extremely insecure triggering his bully mode to control a potential drunk outlaw biker, with no viable signs of being impaired, having nothing but green tea breath, riding a BMW K1200LT in a disguise of near track boots, Joe Rocket crash jacket, crash gloves, modular helmet, blue jeans and tie-died tee shirt.
For some reason he was sure that the two of them couldn't handle this fat 65 year old, wolf in sheep's clothing, bad-ass LTer. I eats Harley dudes for breakfast, spits out any piece they carry, pound LEOS into da ground with one blow on the head like “John Henry”, and turn anyone to stone with my stare just like Medusa.
Woe to anyone who crosses my path for I am part of the Demolished-FD LT tribe!!
Best from Tucson
Huuum seems as if the site can't handle my pixs--have to waite till I get time to re-sze them all. :-(
"He was a foul caricature of himself, a man with no soul, no inner convictions, with the integrity of a hyena, and the style of a poison toad." H. S. Thompson