Always Remember The Code

I stuck around at work a while to let traffic die down a bit, and hit the road a little after 6. I'd tried to convince myself to stay until 7 but the itch to hit the roads was just too strong.

I lucked out overall and really didn't hit too many slowdowns at all, and managed to maintain a well-above-the-posted-speed-limit pace for most of the run north into New Hampshire.

I was about 15 miles into NH proper, ripping along the speed lane, when my eye caught sight of a guy sitting on a guardrail, a solid black dead ricer sitting on a kickstand in front of him.

I signaled a lane shift and sliced over into the breakdown lane, dropping the transmission down through the gears until finally coming to a stop about 100 yards past him.

I jogged back to see what was up; bike just died completely, he had no tools and was waiting on a flatbed. Well, let me get my bike backed up and let's dig in to things and see if we can get you moving.

We checked out his connections, as well as his fuses, but they were all fine. I started tracing his main wire and quickly ran into a lot of aftermarket wiring. Ruh-roh...that poses a lot of potential spots for issues...

After trying to do some tracing, we had to admit it wasn't a problem for the side of the road. The coming flatbed was driven by a buddy of his and would probably be there within 20 minutes, anyway.

As I was packing up my tools, I noticed his license plate; "BT MAN". Huh...how about that. Solid black bike...The license plate...This was Batman! (I commented that I hadn't recognized him without his mask and cape, and he laughed.)

I told him I was sorry I hadn't been able to get him going, but he thanked me repeatedly for pulling over and trying. I shook his hand and said it's part of the Biker Code. You don't pass a broken down brother without at least trying to help.

I rolled back out to the highway and the rest of the trip was smooth and uneventful. Now it's time for a bit of a reward...

Ride Hard, Remember The Code.