March 19
An excellent breakfast of..well, everything available actually, was settling nicely so we checked out of the hotel and waited by the door for our pick-up to Eaglerider. The sun was warm and we were in T-shirts and shorts. Very different clothes from the airline crew and business people waiting for their shuttles to the airport. This felt good, for the first time in a long while I was staying in a business hotel with not a thought of work in my immediate future! My happiness was increased as through the traffic came a crew cab pick-up truck in those famous orange/black colours of the MoCo. The door opened and out jumped a guy straight from central casting for Harley Davidson riders..well, the one's the public expect to see anyway. Carl was er..large, with a shaved head and goatee. A selection of tatoos around his neck poked through his polo shirt and his arms..well, there wasn't any spare flesh. I noticed that the throng around us had become quiet as this sunglassed behemoth arrived. Spotting us, he thrust his hand out and spoke in a strange American/Scandinavian accent. "Velcome zu LA dudes, I'm your ride to ze World Headqvaters." With that voice, I guess if he lost ninety pounds or so he might give Arnie a run for his money. The audience now flicked their gazes to us. I shook his hand as firmly as I dared and muttered something like "Great job, man" but the spell was broken when H, smiled politely and said "Oh, jolly good, thanks very much."
Obviously, thought the crowd, we were a couple of Harley frauds so they lost interest and returned to their business conversations and in-flight stories.
Carl proved to be quite chatty and a nice guy. We didn't have too much time to talk as within five minutes, we had arrived. My heartbeat quickened as I saw twenty or thirty Harleys of different flavours lined up in the parking lot. However, we were steered firmly into the showroom/office where we were each assigned a representative.
Being America, now started a process whereby we paradoxically had to sign numerous insurance forms for the bikes, ourselves, the public at large and every possible calamity that could befall us. We then were required to sign forms which told us that we were engaging in a highly dangerous activity that would, in all likelyhood, kill us or leave us horribly injured. Finally, we signed umpteen papers saying that if the former occurred, the owners, employees, their friends, families, distant relatives twice removed could not be held in any way responsible. I just signed the bloody things. "Right" says I, "now take me to my bike!" "Soon." said the nice check-in agent. Another ream of paper was required before the Tom-Tom GPS could be released to me together with a natty little binder which contained our route and other travel information. At last, it was done and I noticed H had taken a similarly pragmatic view. The "inclusive" rental helmets looked exactly as I thought they would (manky WWII SS Stormtrooper look alikes) so we carried out our plan to buy a couple of open face lids. Good quality and only about $120. So yet another helmet added to the collection..
Now, we were ready to go out to the lot and get on the bikes.
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