The Yellow Pages showed a motorcycle dealer just down the street. I called to tell them my Kawasaki was under warranty and the speedometer wouldn’t stay connected. They told me to bring them the bike, but that the wait was around 4 hours. This was acceptable. I drove the bike down to Northridge Motorsports and turned over the bike. There was a coffee shop across the street. I bought a cup of coffee and watched the storms over the mountain. An occasional shower moved over us. My stomach began to settle with the coffee.
I wandered into the motorcycle shop and looked around. The rains of yesterday had showed up two weaknesses: the lack of rain gear and the lack of waterproof footwear. A girl in the shop showed me the rain suits. They were reasonably priced: under $40, and I picked one out. While we talked, I learned she was from Ramona and had just moved to Flagstaff. She asked me about Packard’s coffee shop, a well-known gathering place for motorcyclists passing through Ramona. After making my purchase, I still had time to kill. I walked over to a nearby store and purchased a can of spray designed to waterproof my boots.
The motorcycle finished, the speedometer back in place and working, I headed back to the hotel. There was no charge for the repair. It was probably something simple ("Loctite is your friend").
At the hotel, I sprayed down my boots and set them aside to dry. I called my friends, who were staying in Sedona. They asked me to meet them for dinner. About midafternoon, I pulled on my gear and headed down the freeway to Sedona. It took about an hour to find them.They fed me dinner, but I was still queasy from the night before. I ended up eating lightly and requesting an Alka Seltzer to try to settle my stomach. We spent time going out to the parking lot to look at the bike, and I put the kids on the seat one by one to experience what it felt like. Finally, I said my goodbyes and headed out, being careful not to dump the bike in front of them. Instead of the freeway, I took the ’89, and it proved to be not only faster but much more scenic. The road follows a creek carving through the base of a canyon, through the Sedona Red Rock region, and slowly rises to meet Flagstaff. It was dark by the time I reached the road crossing the freeway to my hotel. I stopped for a few seconds to look over the lights of the town from my vantage point, and then drove over to the hotel. This night, I slept without a problem.