Lights Out

My dreams of the twisting roads of the Blue Ridge Parkway woke me this morning, refreshed and ready for action. This was the day we had planned to side-trip there, and over breakfast Lonnie and I discussed our route.

We mounted up after thanking Elena for a hearty breakfast of steel-cut oats, but there was a snag before we could get out of the driveway.

Lonnie's light bar refused to come on.

These are the lights on either side of the headlight. Their daytime function is to make the bike more visible, and in and of themselves, aren't essential for riding. But it isn't wise to ignore a mysterious electrical fault of any kind, since it could be a sign of bigger trouble on the horizon. You don't want to be in the middle of nowhere when the rest of that story unfolds.

We placed a call to the local Victory dealer, made arrangements to meet the mechanic when he came in at 9:00, and headed into town in time to meet him.

Long story short, this was not a stellar example of the service art. The young lady behind the counter was unable to tell us whether the service guy was in or not and suggested we "go around and see if the door is open."

We did. It wasn't. We came back around the building, asked her if she knew when he might be in, and of course, she didn't.

At this point, Lonnie and I looked at each other. "Doughnut?" I asked. Although the steel-cut oats were still keeping the wolves at bay, we'd passed a Krispy Kreme on the way in.

The coffee was hot, and the doughnut was awesome. Hard to resist, really. Okay, I admit it, the "Hot Light" works on my brain like a tractor beam.

Inevitably, we went back to the Victory dealer, I guess to see how bad the service could get. By the time we got there, Donald was in the garage.

He was personable and knowledgeable, and willing to spend the time with us to put our fears to rest. He tentatively diagnosed the problem as the switch, and after an amiable chat, we were once again on our way.

The morning was toast. Having seen a Pep Boys down the road, we stopped to top off the oil and assess our options.

The Ridge was at least a couple of hours down the road, and we planned on returning to home base for the night. Now we were looking at riding the entire afternoon - and that was without spending any time on the Blue Ridge.

It was lunchtime, and having found an interesting micro-brew lunch spot not far away on Google maps, we buzzed there to find an empty parking lot and closed sign on the door.

At least it wasn't raining.

So I called Elena to see if I could buy her lunch, and a short while later we were seated in a booth in an Asian food restaurant. This was a place Elena was fascinated with, and I could see why. They were doing a brisk lunch business, and the menu had an extensive selection of vegetarian as well as carnivorous choices.

Our meal was generous and flavorful, and the waitress pleasant and personable. Elena drank from a beautifully hewn coconut with a little umbrella, and Lonnie had a gallon-sized bowl of seafood soup.

We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, recounting the morning's misadventures for Elena and talking about afternoon possibilities. Then, finally, with a collective contented sigh, we adjourned to the homestead and began to plan for what we'd hoped would be a better tomorrow.

Next: Back roads, fried chicken, and wine.