My day wasn’t going anything like I had planned and I was getting more frustrated by the minute.  The local Triumph dealer had been hinting at a RAT (Riders Association of Triumph) organizational meeting and ride on their website for weeks, but when I called for information, I seemed to end up in a black hole every time.  Voicemail. hang-ups. endless holds.  You get the picture.

Don’t get me wrong, for the most part, I really like my local dealer.  They made me a great deal on the bike originally and have a great service department, but I’m guessing that outward bound communication is kind of a challenge for them.  When I finally got a hold of someone, the day of the event, they said to “just show up around 2PM and we will figure it out”.

When I arrived at the dealer,  I immediatly knew something was wrong .  The only bikes around were those for sale or in for service.  I dismounted and nosed my way around the dealership, and noticed two or three other lost souls.  All of use wondering, “Where is the event?”  2PM happens to also be the time that the dealership closes on Saturday.  So most employees were busy bringing bikes back into the showroom.  After a few more minutes, one of the salesmen ask if he could help with anything.  “Where is the RAT event,” I asked.  The salesman responded that it had been “kind of informal, and we will do a better job next time.”  “But where is everybody,” I responded.  “Well those that showed up earlier got restless and took off on the group ride early,” he said.  By that time, there was no way that the stragglers around the dealership could catch up to the main group safely.  My Saturday ride was shot!

I wouldn’t say that I was angry, but I will tell you that I was a tad disappointed and frustrated.  I saddled up, and headed to the nearest gas station to top off in preparation for what would now be a solo ride.  If you are reading this, there is a good chance that you either own or are interested in Triumph motorcycles.  So I probably don’t have to tell you that due to the uniqueness of our bikes, we get more than our fair share of double-takes, thumbs up, and “Back when I had my old Bonnie” stories when we are out and about.  I didn’t buy my bike to pose or to get attention, I bought it to ride and enjoy.  However, the constant comments that I get make me wonder if the advertising executives in the sixties maybe got it wrong when they coined “You meet the nicest people on a Honda.”

As I topped my tank of, I noticed two teen boys in a minivan that just couldn’t get enough of my Thruxton.  I reached to put the nozzle back in the pump, and when I turned around the minivan as parallel to my bike and the driver was laboring to roll down his window.  Grinning from ear to ear, he said “That’s one badass bike, Sir!”  Before I could thank him properly, he pulled away and was gone into traffic.

My afternoon ride was going to be quite a bit different than originally planned, but I now left for it newly invigorated and a bit taller in the saddle to boot.