FIRED UP!!

So we last left our heroes on the way home from the sports bar, having had a great day of riding and hanging with friends. Cindy and I were about halfway home, hammering up 95, when suddenly she yells to me “YOUR BIKE IS ON FIRE!!” Looking down on my right side, sure enough; Flames!! Flames, right under Cindy’s foot!! And they were being fanned bigger and bigger from the wind howling past! As I looked forward again, I could see the orange glow pulsating brighter and brighter, reflecting off of the pavement beside us. Damn – not what I needed!! Leaning the bike hard over to the breakdown lane, I hit the kill switch and grabbed as much brake as I could, while not causing the bike to fishtail. As we neared a stop, Cindy hopped off and I kicked the stand down and hopped to the right to get a better look at what was going on. What the…there’s something on the pipes, and that’s what’s on fire. Well that’s a sihtload better than the bike itself, although, if I don’t get this conflagration out soon, it will certainly spread to the bike.


Between the adrenaline rush and having a big mouth, I was able to blow the flames low enough to allow me to poke and pull the flaming mass off the pipes. What the hell…it’s cloth and plastic…what is this thing?? Upon closer inspection, I was able to make out a distinctive red color to the cloth…it was my bandana that I wrap my sunglasses in…and those chunks of now-smoldering plastic? One of them has a distinctive rounded shape to it. Son of a bitch. Somehow, my bandana-wrapped shades got knocked down onto the inside of the pipes, wedged between the frame and the passenger footrest bracket. The pipes got hot enough to melt the plastic and then the whole thing caught. Quite a scare on a darkened highway, miles from home!


Once the pieces had cooled enough, I gathered them up, and off we went (thankfully we arrived back at the house without any more incidents). But I was left to wonder – how the hell did the glasses/bandana get there in the first place? I always store them in the right saddlebag. I was parked directly in front of the front door of the bar, and there were many folks milling about, but the place is very biker-friendly, and folks don’t go poking into other bikes. Was it possible that I’d left them on my seat and forgot about them, only knocking them off when I got on the bike? I don’t think so, because I always get on from the right side…which means I would have knocked them to the left, but they were on the right side. I’m at a loss…

Anyway, as they say; the proof is in the pudding. But pudding has nothing to do with this story. Pictures, however, do…



(I imagine I’ll be hearing about this from folks.)

Ride Hard, make sure your flammables are stored appropriately!