I belong to a motorcycle club in the Northern Sierra’s. We’ve have become accustomed to riding behind one of our members who owns a Valentine One. His warnings, and no tickets in two summers, have made us feel secure.
We’ll, there I was on a taco Tuesday, evening leading the group into one of our favorite canyons. Right then I had this serious thought—I needed a V1—but as we continued on, I got involved in the turns and soon forgot about it.
Well, my premonition was prescient: we got pulled over by a sheriff who got into this huge lecture about all the reasons we should be driving the limit. It was the wrong vibe for us that evening. I assured him, “I was looking out for the deer and coyotes.”
He said, “Did you think about looking for all the bear and cattle?”
“Yes, officer, absolutely.”
He admitted that he knew about the taco Tuesday rides and he used to own a couple of Harleys; thank goodness one of us was on a Vrod. We were polite and so was he. “Well, all you guys seem to be responsible riders.” He let us go.
Still, in my book I hadn’t made that total commitment to being fully, entirely, seamlessly-without-exception responsible. I just didn’t have a V1 yet. I’ll take care of that first thing tomorrow morning.
South Lake Tahoe, CA