Monday we went to Orangeville, because it was a direction we hadn't been to. We stopped at a plaza with a Starbucks and Sobeys to pick up coffee and lunch. We then packed it all up so we could ride downtown to a park by the cenotaph to eat.
As we were packing up, an older gentleman with a slight Scottish accent came over and asked some questions about the Ural. We answered, had a little conversation, and then he went to his car, which was parked behind us, and started the engine.
Suddenly he left his car, and came back over to us. He had a story to tell us.
A friend of his, way back in the day, had a motorbike with a sidecar. This was before there were helmets like what we were wearing. His friend wore goggles with big metal sides, and the glass on the front for protection.
His friend was seeing a girl at the time of this story. One night, he decided he would take his girlfriend home in the sidecar. She settled in, he put on his goggles, and he headed to her house.
The road was hilly, and the hour was late. There were no stops, so the bike got up to quite a speed. At the top of every hill the motorbike lifted off the ground. He was having the time of his life getting her home.
When he arrived at the house, he turned to his girlfriend to see what she thought of the ride.
She wasn't in the sidecar.
Turning his bike around, he drove back down the road. He found her at the top of a hill, sitting on the side of the road.
When he'd hit that particular hill, the bump had been such that she'd gone into the air higher than the back of the motorcycle, and it had gone on without her. She landed on the road (safely, of course), and he, in his goggles, hadn't noticed a thing.
Apparently the girlfriend took it all in good humour, and he managed to get her home ok after all.
We never heard if his friend and the girl got married. After telling his story, the gentleman went back to his car, and we mounted up and headed off for lunch. Any bumps were taken with great care.
No comments:
Post a Comment