|My Royal Enfield and my distinguished self pose together at the railway station.|
David McParland spotted me kicking repeatedly with no results and pulled over in his car. Once we'd confirmed the Enfield had gas and compression in the cylinder it was just a matter of figuring out where the electricity had gone off to.
I'm a dunce about electricity but David had a meter and the know-how to determine that the battery wasn't up to snuff. He rigged up cables from his car battery and we got the motorcycle running. It was then a simple matter of riding home non-stop.
Being helped like this really renews one's faith in the human race.
I'd ridden to the Boca Raton Train Museum to get a shot of myself in my dapper duds. I posed alongside the historic rail cars parked next to once was the Boca Raton, Fla. station of the Florida East Coast Railway.
Yes, I rode alone. But I did donate to three other rides, so I felt I deserved to get a picture of myself out of the deal.
September in South Florida is really too warm and humid for a tweed jacket and a tie. Consequently I was bathed in sweat even before the Enfield decided it didn't want to take me home.
I'd have been a lot sweatier still if David hadn't come along when I needed him. Even as it was, he got grease on his hands and nothing but my thanks for his trouble.
A distinguished gentleman indeed.