Okay, so yesterday I had some bills that I needed to mail out and the wife wanted a capuccino from the local convenience store. It being hot out and all, I opted to ride the wife's 50cc scooter uptown to run these errands.
The town was deserted except for a couple of folks at the gas station as I rode around town on the scooter with bib overalls and no shirt, work boots and also wearing this creation that I made and have owned for almost 40 years after being inspired by one in the Clint Eastwood movie, "Every Which Way But Loose:"
Back in the day, it was my "party helmet." Now it does duty as my preferred headgear when I buzz around town on the scooter.
So, after I leave the gas station, I'm buzzing back through town when I see a white adventure bike being pushed down the street by its rider near the town square. I turn around and go back to check on him, thinking maybe he was having mechanical problems. I don't think he saw me pass by the first time as his head was down pushing the bike, which turned out to be a really nice white BMW.
I come up behind him and he looks up and sees me as I say, "Do you need any help?" I could tell by the look on his face that he interpreted my question as "What the f** are you doing in my town?" I'm guessing instead of seeing me, he probably saw this:
I've gotta admit, I felt bad about it, but it was pretty hilarious. He began speaking in an accent that I couldn't identify as Australian, British or what, explaining that he'd just stopped to take a picture in front of what we here call a "meat locker," (which is basically a butcher shop), didn't have any problems and was simply pushing the bike to some shade. I thought the meat locker was kind of a strange photo opportunity, but perhaps they don't exist where he's from.
As I idled along beside him, I was faced with a choice:
#1 I could either attempt to explain to him that I was actually somewhat normal, admired his BMW and the trip he was on, I rode a KLR and would like to do the same thing, etc. etc.....
#2. I could just wish him well and ride off, leaving him wondering and hopefully giving him a good tale for his account of his passage through Northwest Missouri, where hulking, inbred hillbillies wearing horned Nazi helmets and riding red and white Roketa scooters roam the streets hoping a lone adventure rider will pass through.....
I chose the latter. I think he was scrambling to get his camera back out before I rode out of sight.......