People You Meet on the Road
Having curtailed some motorcycle riding in anticipation of some anatomical micro-wave sessions, I did run a few errands on Mariolanza, the Moto Guzzi, the other day and stumbled into the following situation.
I’d parked in the motorcycle spaces at the corner of nearby little town’s iconic downtown square. Upon returning from an errand, I spied a gentleman – older than myself – eyeballing my ride. Even from behind, I could tell he was wistful. Perhaps it was the way he held his shoulders.
As I slipped the key in the ignition, he said, “What’s that? A Guzzi?”
“Yep.”
“Nice restoration. What year?” He tugged at the leash of a fine-looking Doberman who was showing some degree of interest in Mariolanza’s rear tire.
“It’s a 2021, Guzzi’s 100th Anniversary model.”
“They still make ‘em?”
“They still make ‘em.”
“I got me a Brit bike. A thumper. Can’t find nobody to work on it, though.”
“Really. What brand?”
“BSA.”
“Wait? You’ve got a Victor?”
“Yeah. A 441 Victor. How did you know?”
“You said, ‘BSA and Thumper.’ What else would it be?”
“Well, I do sorta recall a 250 single. Pour oil in the top and watch it drain out through the bottom. Not a problem with my Victor, but it has a few others and I can’t find anybody to work on it.”
“Did you check the Zen House in Point Arena?” I’d had a very positive experience there, surrounding the rebuild of an ’86 BMW. I offered to write down some on-line info.
“Oh, son.” [Ha! He called me ‘son.’] “I don’t do computers. Come to think of it, I don’t do carburetors anymore either.”
“Me neither.” Pointing to the Guzzi, “That’s why I got this one. Fuel injected.”
“Fuel injected? Bah!” He gave the Dobie a gentle tug. Then he said, “So, how is it you know about my bike?”
“Back when I was in high school, a 441 Victor with it’s yellow over brushed aluminum tank and pea-shooter exhaust was my dream bike. Light. Snazzy. Cool like Steve McQueen. Sounded cool, too. Tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka.”
“Yeah.” The gent grinned broadly. “Tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka.”
“College kid livin’ nearby had a Victor,” I continued. “Called it the ‘One Lung-er.’ Said he wouldn’t ever see himself comin’ the other way on one. Not like a Honda or a Yamaha…
“…What year is yours?”
“I bought it new in ’67 from the dealer in San Jose.”
“New in ’67? No kidding?”
“No kidding. Dropped into the shop one afternoon, just to nose around. Sales guy put me on it and took me for a test ride. No helmet. No license. Nothin’.
“Sales guy was in front of me on a big Lightning or some such when he crashed. I ended up getting him to the hospital, but then went back and bought the Victor.”
“Nice piece of history. And with its own history. You’ve had it since ’67?”
“The whole time.” He nodded. “You sure there’s a shop in Point Arena? I never heard of… what’d you call it?”
“Zen House. From Pirsig’s book, I think. On the highway – the Pacific Coast Highway – the main drag, behind the only gas pumps in town. You can’t miss it.”
“Oh, son, I’ll bet I can…”
I hope to cross paths with the Victor on the road someday soon. I’ll be on the Guzzi.
© 2022
Church of the Open Road Press
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