Sunday, October 9, 2011

Little House of Trikes

Last Saturday in northern Arizona was truly a magnificent fall day. The air was clean and sweet smelling from all the rain we had the previous week. The mountain peaks appeared so close that reaching out and touching them seemed possible. All summer long we had suffered from the smoke of prescribed fires filling the Verde Valley with thick, smelly and lung choking filthy air. One deep breath Saturday and we knew it was going to be a fantastic motorcycle day.

I met up with two other riding buds and one budette in Sedona. It’s nice having a woman rider along. Julie keeps us civil (sort of) and she is one of the guys when it comes right down to it. She belongs with our group of ragtag riders who don’t take life too seriously and love to laugh. Teasing one another is par for the course and it helps to learn that laughing is contagious and good for the soul. Jay, Hoppy, Julie and I all smiled and hugged at our meeting. We are great friends one and all.

Julie

Hoppy

Jay

Mittster

After some hot coffee and sweet pastry in the Village of Oak Creek, we saddled up for the ride to Mayer and a look-see at a terrific trike and classic bike shop we had heard about from Adrian, who owns a tattoo shop named Physical Graffiti in the Village. We had met at his shop because my wife Sandy wanted a small tattoo, but she was unable to be with our group that day. We met in the parking lot and Adrian was able to check out our bikes, which consisted of two Harley V-Rods, a 1975 first-year Honda Goldwing and a Harley Super-Glide.

As we headed south toward Interstate 17, it became apparent that the day was special and smiles spread wide as we negotiated the last round-about and headed for Mayer. Even though the air was crisp and cold, it felt good after a hot and long summer. Traffic was light going south, but northbound was heavy as the tourists flocked toward Sedona. Thank God we were going the other way; Sedona can become a zoo and no place to be riding a motorcycle when the car traffic becomes heavy.

We soon turned on the I-17 south and cranked up the scooters to 75 mph with wind in our faces and brilliant sun lighting up the fantastic vistas. It didn’t take long to reach Cherry Road and we then headed west toward Prescott until we reached Highway 69 and turned south again toward Mayer and The Trike Shop. We arrive to the sight of two beautiful trikes outside for display. We rode around to the back of the shop, parked, shed coats and gloves, and headed inside to the best motorcycle shop I have seen in years.

I only took pictures of the Harley trike conversions this time and the pictures I took of all of us meeting in Sedona didn’t turn out because I am an idiot (don’t ask).




My V-Rod when I get too old to ride two wheels.








We are planning another trip soon so I can photograph the many classic Harleys, Indians, Hondas, and other fantastic one-of-a-kind bikes in the museum. Thank you, "Scruf," for being the perfect host during our visit!

To be continued….

Write on,

Mittster

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