Content © 2012-2017 by American IronHorse Owners Organization.  Use of AIH Logo Licensed by American Ironhorse, LLC
Caught In The Rain One of my jobs as the fledgling who did not fly too far from the nest is the care of my parents’ place when they travel out of town.  This entails checking on the house, cutting the grass, and generally heading off disaster.  I have to give them credit for being in their seventies and still burning the candle at both ends – they spend as much time traveling as they do at home and that is no exaggeration.  Rock on, Mom and Dad!  They live about 25 miles away from me which provides the perfect opportunity to take the chopper for a ride.  On one of these excursions I was getting ready to return home when it began to rain.  Now, rain scares me because it makes an already dangerous occupation such as riding a motorcycle that much more so.  I hate riding in the rain.  I had never ridden my chopper in the rain and truly felt like I could do without the experience.  I viewed a thread in the V-Twin Forum where if your AIH speedometer gets wet it is toast.  And what happens when that big, fat rear tire starts to hydroplane?  I will be toast, too!  Besides, no matter how bad-ass your bike may be, nobody looks cool riding in the rain.  So, in a rare display of discretion I parked the bike in their garage and borrowed a spare vehicle to make the return home. I am sure all of you have had their bike in the shop or otherwise occupied so you know what it feels like to look at that big, empty space in the garage where it normally sits and know that all is not well in the world.  It’s the same feeling of fundamental “wrongness” you get when you walk into a bar full of lesbians.  You know, I don’t necessarily need to ride my bike all the time but it would be nice to at least have that option, right?  When my ride is gone it feels like part of me is missing.  It just really bugs me when it’s not there.  So, if you were to tell me a tale of some sad dude who lost his bike and now spends his time sitting on a sawhorse in the garage making “VROOM VROOM” noises I would totally understand. Summer in South Carolina is all about heat, humidity and afternoon thunderstorms.  The next couple of weeks saw me continuing my pilgrimage to Mom and Dad’s in the borrowed car with the hope of riding the chopper home.  Every time I was ready to leave, however, it would be afternoon and, in keeping with SC law, raining.  It was really starting to get annoying so I decided to use a little Judo on Mother Nature.  I decided to make a special trip to my parents’ house early on a Sunday morning for the express purpose of retrieving my bike before the daily afternoon rainstorms.  Well, if I had Judo then Mother Nature had some serious Kung-Fu and she was waiting for my ass.  When I arrived at my parents I looked up and saw a positively menacing sky.  That it was going to rain was apparent – the only question was did I have the requisite 30 minutes to get the bike home before it started?  Nobody loves a good challenge more than I do and what better way to scratch that itch than to see if I can bust a move home before it opens up.  So, I decided to go for it! Yes, the sky was angry that day my friends.  It was 0800 hrs and still dark which should have been my first clue that this may not be the best idea.  I was wearing my usual summer “Gone to Margaritaville” riding uniform of shorts, flip- flops and no helmet.  My trusty Ironhorse fired right up and I thus began my adventure.  I made it all the way to the Interstate before a downpour of biblical proportions took me from hero to zero with the first drop.  It hasn’t rained here in the morning for months so clearly, this was a very special rainstorm created just for me!  You know what else?  That mess stayed with me ALL THE WAY TO MY HOUSE!  I am sure you all have been caught in the rain – you know how it hurts to get hit with raindrops?  It was coming down so hard that when I opened my mouth to catch a few drops it not only hurt my tongue but gagged me, too!  I could gargle.  I was able to put my feet down and it was like waterskiing in flip-flops.  I couldn’t see jack shit.  The road and other cars were nothing but murky shapes as I made my way miserably down the road in the slow lane at 50 mph.  That was as fast as I dared to go because of my fear of hydroplaning, which thankfully never happened.  I kept an eye on my speedometer, waiting for it to let out a little puff of smoke before it shorted out but that didn’t happen, either.  The usual legions of tailgating assholes were conspicuously absent on this trip although one did cut me off just to let me know that they were still out there.  When I hit the brakes – nothing!  The pads and rotors were slicky-soaked, adding a fresh dimension of exciting danger to the trip! You know how even in a heavy rain your front gets soaked but your backside is reasonably dry?  And your wallet, safely tucked away in your back pocket is always dry?  No, no, no… not this time!  My backside was soaked and in my wallet, voter registration, pictures of the kids, and anything else made of paper – all trashed.  I had to get undressed in the garage because it was literally as though I had just emerged from a swimming pool and to go kablooshing through the house was not a good idea.  I was really glad to make it home in one piece.  The biggest worry was that rear tire would start hydroplaning but I guess the bike was heavy enough to prevent that.  I was also really glad to see the soaking wet speedo still working.  The best part, though, was having my pride and joy back home where it belonged!  Order has been restored…
October 2, 2012
Want to contact Fat Max? email Fat Max ...
ORGANIZATION ORGANIZATION OWNERS OWNERS For All American Ironhorse Motorcycle Owners
Fat Max
© 2012-2017   American IronHorse Owners Organization Use of AIH Logo Licensed by American Ironhorse, LLC 
Caught In The Rain One of my jobs as the fledgling who did not fly too far from the nest is the care of my parents’ place when they travel out of town.  This entails checking on the house, cutting the grass, and generally heading off disaster.  I have to give them credit for being in their seventies and still burning the candle at both ends – they spend as much time traveling as they do at home and that is no exaggeration.  Rock on, Mom and Dad!  They live about 25 miles away from me which provides the perfect opportunity to take the chopper for a ride.  On one of these excursions I was getting ready to return home when it began to rain.  Now, rain scares me because it makes an already dangerous occupation such as riding a motorcycle that much more so.  I hate riding in the rain.  I had never ridden my chopper in the rain and truly felt like I could do without the experience.  I viewed a thread in the V-Twin Forum where if your AIH speedometer gets wet it is toast.  And what happens when that big, fat rear tire starts to hydroplane?  I will be toast, too!  Besides, no matter how bad-ass your bike may be, nobody looks cool riding in the rain.  So, in a rare display of discretion I parked the bike in their garage and borrowed a spare vehicle to make the return home. I am sure all of you have had their bike in the shop or otherwise occupied so you know what it feels like to look at that big, empty space in the garage where it normally sits and know that all is not well in the world.  It’s the same feeling of fundamental “wrongness” you get when you walk into a bar full of lesbians.  You know, I don’t necessarily need to ride my bike all the time but it would be nice to at least have that option, right?  When my ride is gone it feels like part of me is missing.  It just really bugs me when it’s not there.  So, if you were to tell me a tale of some sad dude who lost his bike and now spends his time sitting on a sawhorse in the garage making “VROOM VROOM” noises I would totally understand. Summer in South Carolina is all about heat, humidity and afternoon thunderstorms.  The next couple of weeks saw me continuing my pilgrimage to Mom and Dad’s in the borrowed car with the hope of riding the chopper home.  Every time I was ready to leave, however, it would be afternoon and, in keeping with SC law, raining.  It was really starting to get annoying so I decided to use a little Judo on Mother Nature.  I decided to make a special trip to my parents’ house early on a Sunday morning for the express purpose of retrieving my bike before the daily afternoon rainstorms.  Well, if I had Judo then Mother Nature had some serious Kung-Fu and she was waiting for my ass.  When I arrived at my parents I looked up and saw a positively menacing sky.  That it was going to rain was apparent – the only question was did I have the requisite 30 minutes to get the bike home before it started?  Nobody loves a good challenge more than I do and what better way to scratch that itch than to see if I can bust a move home before it opens up.  So, I decided to go for it! Yes, the sky was angry that day my friends.  It was 0800 hrs and still dark which should have been my first clue that this may not be the best idea.  I was wearing my usual summer “Gone to Margaritaville” riding uniform of shorts, flip-flops and no helmet.  My trusty Ironhorse fired right up and I thus began my adventure.  I made it all the way to the Interstate before a downpour of biblical proportions took me from hero to zero with the first drop.  It hasn’t rained here in the morning for months so clearly, this was a very special rainstorm created just for me!  You know what else?  That mess stayed with me ALL THE WAY TO MY HOUSE!  I am sure you all have been caught in the rain – you know how it hurts to get hit with raindrops?  It was coming down so hard that when I opened my mouth to catch a few drops it not only hurt my tongue but gagged me, too!  I could gargle.  I was able to put my feet down and it was like waterskiing in flip-flops.  I couldn’t see jack shit.  The road and other cars were nothing but murky shapes as I made my way miserably down the road in the slow lane at 50 mph.  That was as fast as I dared to go because of my fear of hydroplaning, which thankfully never happened.  I kept an eye on my speedometer, waiting for it to let out a little puff of smoke before it shorted out but that didn’t happen, either.  The usual legions of tailgating assholes were conspicuously absent on this trip although one did cut me off just to let me know that they were still out there.  When I hit the brakes – nothing!  The pads and rotors were slicky-soaked, adding a fresh dimension of exciting danger to the trip! You know how even in a heavy rain your front gets soaked but your backside is reasonably dry?  And your wallet, safely tucked away in your back pocket is always dry?  No, no, no… not this time!  My backside was soaked and in my wallet, voter registration, pictures of the kids, and anything else made of paper – all trashed.  I had to get undressed in the garage because it was literally as though I had just emerged from a swimming pool and to go kablooshing through the house was not a good idea.  I was really glad to make it home in one piece.  The biggest worry was that rear tire would start hydroplaning but I guess the bike was heavy enough to prevent that.  I was also really glad to see the soaking wet speedo still working.  The best part, though, was having my pride and joy back home where it belonged!  Order has been restored…
October 2, 2012
Want to contact Fat Max? email Fat Max ...
ORGANIZATION ORGANIZATION OWNERS OWNERS
Fat Max