tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12940673178433175262024-03-04T20:04:31.976-08:00The Narrow MarginOriginally published in Thunder Press/June 1998Grumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02003774128193899393noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1294067317843317526.post-64238348982758540022009-11-26T15:01:00.000-08:002009-11-29T18:55:42.582-08:00The Narrow Margin by Grumbler<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18o_RtOj6-vvFP4XFsDTTSmUkkTesQ03riZODYfnpGz9pyCC4y3uNaecQ_zyzb9Ppv-LW9BVxrOLX0PtkFsw6P_q8hlYIIM6TfDG__rf585swj_eetVFl9vX2X-rExYXX8qwGa1UceQb5/s1600/grumbler1978riding420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18o_RtOj6-vvFP4XFsDTTSmUkkTesQ03riZODYfnpGz9pyCC4y3uNaecQ_zyzb9Ppv-LW9BVxrOLX0PtkFsw6P_q8hlYIIM6TfDG__rf585swj_eetVFl9vX2X-rExYXX8qwGa1UceQb5/s400/grumbler1978riding420.jpg" yr="true" /></a><br />
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It was a cold winter night. Just the way I liked it as there'd <br />
be little or no traffic. Full leathers, engineer boots and a thick<br />
watchcap anchored by goggles kept me warm. Had fired-up the<br />
big Shovelhead a couple of minutes ago. Was good to go.<br />
<br />
We took the Hellyer Ave on-ramp to northbound US-101 and, after<br />
seeing no headlights behind me, gave the throttle a big twist. <br />
The slashcut glass-packs boomed louder and louder as the revs<br />
climbed. It never failed to send shivers down my spine.<br />
<br />
After several miles the I-880 exit loomed up. It seemed almost<br />
criminal having to slow down. The 3.50x19 and 5.10x16 Avon Road-<br />
Runners carved smoothly through the on-ramp to Milpitas. At this<br />
time of the night I-880 was usually deserted.<br />
<br />
Here, I unleashed the reins and let the 74-inch motor blow-out all <br />
the carbon at around 80mph. The wind caressed my face in an icy <br />
embrace. It was intoxicating. I was Paul Bunyan on Babe, the<br />
blue ox ... a larger than life sensation that mere words cannot<br />
describe. We crested the overpass at Brokaw Rd and, a mile<br />
or so down the road, saw two vehicles driving side-by-side.<br />
<br />
As I homed in on them, could discern that there was a white Toyota<br />
pickup with solo driver on right lane and a black or midnight blue<br />
Chevrolet Monte Carlo on the left occupied by two passengers. Both<br />
vehicles remained in their positions as the seconds ticked by almost<br />
agonizingly. Both were locked in at about 55mph. <br />
<br />
Slowing down was not an option. It has always been in my nature<br />
to relish a challenge. No comfort zone buffers applied here. It was<br />
either do it right or spend a sleepless night in bed. I needed my<br />
sleep.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, I was upon them as my headlight shone into their rear<br />
windows. My chest almost exploded with the adrenaline rushing<br />
through my heart as I aimed for the narrow margin between the<br />
two vehicles - an arrow seeking the bull's-eye. <br />
<br />
Just then the Monte Carlo moved right, attempting to cut me off.<br />
You fools, I screamed to myself, knowing that I was going to slam<br />
into their trunk and slide down onto the road. In a nanosecond,<br />
I could see my beloved FLH careening on its side grinding metal,<br />
chrome, paint and rubber as gasoline spilled out. A spark ignites<br />
the leaking gas. The explosion sends a burning fireball streaking<br />
towards the stars.<br />
<br />
While all that was going on in my mind, the white Toyota pickup <br />
jerked to the right, opening up an escape route between it and<br />
the Monte Carlo. I didn't have to think, it was instinctive much<br />
like a timber wolf skirting around a trap. I blew through the<br />
narrow margin with a thunderous roar echoing between the<br />
vehicles. And then, the silence of the night enveloped me. <br />
<br />
I glanced into my rear view mirror and saw the Monte Carlo<br />
angrily flashing its lights at me. A smile formed on my face.<br />
<br />
After putting some distance between myself and the Monte<br />
Carlo, I grabbed the CA-237 exit and pulled into the parking<br />
lot at the local 7-Eleven store. <br />
<br />
The clerk eyed me warily. I was used to getting those kinds of<br />
looks and nodded to her. She almost laughed when she saw the<br />
items I placed on the counter; a package of oatmeal cookies<br />
and pint of milk. I slept very well later that night. <br />
<br />
True, it had very nearly become a disaster and might have cost <br />
me my life, but I had survived. Seems as if it happened just<br />
the other night although it was actually back in 1978. It was<br />
not just another ride - it had been a memorable one.Grumblerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02003774128193899393noreply@blogger.com0