Back in June of 2011, I towed my VW trike down to Paragould, Arkansas, to have the transmission converted from manual to automatic, among other things. Almost two years later, and I was finally able to bring her home this Memorial Day weekend. It's at the very end of the journey home that this story takes place.
Two whole years; I could hardly believe it. I never would have dreamed it would take so long. I had so wanted to ride home, but the engine hadn't been properly broken in yet, so it was recommended to trailer it. A friend went with me and let me borrow a trailer. It was a tight squeeze, but we finally managed to get the trike tires stuffed between the wheel wells of the trailer.
Approximately 14 hours later, we arrived at my friend's house at 1:30am. After much pushing and prodding, the trike was extricated from the trailer and ready to roll. Exhausted but happy, I planned to use my last bit of energy to make the maiden voyage home. I pulled away from the curb around 2am.
The sound of the purring engine, the cool wind whipping past, it was exhilarating! Cycle therapy at its finest.
The ride was going fast and soon I was on Highway 394. But as the Penn Avenue exit approached, the engine suddenly died. I quickly took the exit and coasted to the intersection. Just as I reached the intersection, the engine came back to life and I started driving down side streets to see if the engine would continue running. It did, and I eventually drove back to Penn Ave to get back onto the freeway. I noticed a trooper had someone pulled over a block behind me and I could see flashing lights on the freeway below. Apparently the cops had a sting set up for drunk drivers on this lovely Memorial Day weekend.
While I was waiting for the light to change so I could enter the freeway, the trike died. Crap! I quickly shut everything off. My trike has two gas tanks with a lever to switch back and forth. When I was leaving, I asked my friend to turn the lever to the main tank. I took off my glove and felt for the lever below me. It was set to the auxiliary tank instead of the main tank. Whew! Easy fix! I flipped the lever and quickly stuffed my glove back on. The stoplight was beginning its third rotation. I was sure if I didn't move soon, the trooper in the next block would come to see what my problem was. I really didn't feel like talking to the police at 2am! Trike started easily, light turned green, and I was off!
Before I reached Highway 100, I passed three more troopers with cars pulled over. It sure is a good thing I don't drink and drive!
As I was heading up Highway 100, a car pulled up beside me. My trike tends to draw attention, so I am used to this. I looked over at the car, expecting to see someone giving me a "thumbs up" but the guy was gesturing wildly. Oh great, a psycho! Just what I need at 2:15am! Then he rolled down his window and tried to add yelling to his wing flapping. Ugh! My mind started racing through all the things that could be wrong with the trike, but I just shrugged at him because there was no way I could make out what he was saying. Finally he quit flapping and started pointing toward the front of the trike. Now we were getting somewhere! I raised myself above my short windshield and looked.... Crap! My lights weren't on! I yanked them on and all was right with the world. Crazy Man sped away. Thank you, Crazy Man, you're the best!
I had been in such a hurry to get back on the freeway that I had forgotten to turn on my lights. My current headlight is rather dim and the highway lights were bright. I never even noticed. And apparently the troopers didn't either, because I passed three of them while I was riding with no lights and not one of the troopers came after me. I will have to thank the person who did the work on the trike for giving me a stealth mode option.
Oh. Did I mention my trike is green?
