Quote:
Originally Posted by Jeff Higgins
We've discussed this issue a great deal in motorcycling circles for the last few years. When I first started riding (in the late '70's) everyone stopped for everyone else. It's just the way it was. Bikes were far less reliable, there were far fewer of us, and if some one was broken down they really needed some help.
It's different today. Enter the cell phone. The vast majority of folks out there have one. They typically call for help. They typically have some kind of roadside assistance program, either through the bike manufacturer, the dealer, or their insuruance company. This was all unheard of 30 years ago.
Conversely, riding with tools aboard is almost unheard of today. Most riders wouldn't know how to use them anyway. Where it used to be a prerequiset for riding, mechanical knowledge is entirely optional these days. Yeah, sometimes you can trouble shoot an unfamiliar machine on the side of the road, but it really helps if the guy knows his own way around it. Most don't.
I also try to appreciate the perspective of the folks I might be trying to help. Years ago, I saw a Caravan with a flat on the side of a kind of lonely rural road when I was out on one of my bikes. It was a young mother with a couple of 4-5 year olds and a newborn. So I turned around, parked the bike, and walked up to her window to see if I could help. I've never seen a more frightened young lady in my life. Then I realized what I must look like. She barely cracked her window, held up her cell, and said "my husband is on his way". I told her I would go sit on the bike 'till he arrived, just to make sure she was o.k. He arrived within minutes, I introduced myself, and helped him change the flat (he had no idea how to change it). By then the two older kids were out and checking out the bike, I let them take turns wearing the helmet so their mom could snap some pics with her cell phone, and we all had a good laugh. She was well and truly scared of me at first, though. Guess I can't blame her in this day and age.
|
I can just see this story in my mind's eye. A very nice Jeff Higgins dressed like Charles Bronson, trying to help a terrified woman. Comical, since I know the vast difference between this woman's worst fears, and the reality she didn't know what happening. Unknowingly, this woman could not have been more safe.
Yes, I remember those days. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I was Phaedrus, too. Sleeping on the beach. Tools in the saddle bag. Points, spark plug, bit of ignition wire. Duct tape. Motorcycling used to be a close-knit activity. Sure, there is probably still good camaraderie today, but not like those days. If you couldn't use tools, you couldn't ride a motorcycle. The new Japanese bikes were far more reliable, but even they had breaker points.