Tag: speedtriple

Ghosts of Bikes Past: Missing My Triumph Speed Triple

Ghosts of Bikes Past: Missing My Triumph Speed Triple

Is it completely ridiculous and irrational to miss a “thing” like a motorcycle? For the past week or so I’ve been thinking a lot about and missing my 05′ Triumph Speed Triple.

fuzzygalore triumph speed triple

At the time that the Speed Triple was my main ride, traveling with it seemed perfectly wonderful. Everything on that bike just felt right to me. I never really did mind it’s close quarters for luggage.

fuzzygalore speed triple

But…I suppose some love affairs just run their course.

In 2011, Kenny bought us a pair of Triumph Tiger 1050s. Based on long days in the saddle and the desire to travel more it seemed like a no-brainer to move from the svelt and stubby frame of the Speed Triple to a bike that was more upright and had luggage. He was right and my sweet Speedy sat unridden for almost a year following the Tiger’s arrival.

When the Speed Triple was sold, I couldn’t even be here at the house when the guy came to take it away. I was sad to learn that the new owner was hit by a car and the bike was destroyed. Thankfully, the rider was okay, but it hurt my heart to know that “my bike” was no more. What a strange feeling.

Day 6: True Love is Forever – #29in29

Day 6: True Love is Forever – #29in29

My Speed Triple

#29in29 Participating Blogs

Make sure to stop by the following blogs to see how they’re doing throughout the month!

The Elephant and the Motorcycle

The Elephant and the Motorcycle

In a strange moment of serendipity I was riding in a conga line of traffic going 30mph behind the Top Dog Lunch Wagon on Route 68 near Portland, Ct. I only wish that I had a camera mounted on my handlebars. It isn’t everyday you’re trailing a giant hotdog on wheels.

Kitschy goodness or not, a girl has her limits. Doing a snails pace on a muggy summer day gets old fast. So, when I when I spotted this sweet little pachyderm I decided to get a closer look and let the traffic dissipate a bit.

Roadside elephant and Triumph Speed Triple

Isn’t he cute? You know he’s just saying: “OMG! That is the coolest motorcycle EVAR!” And he would totally be right.

Following My Heart Back Home

Following My Heart Back Home

I carry Love with me everywhereI stood in the gas station near Windham, NY, sweating. My shadow stretched out on the ground in front of me, surrounded by an orangey glow. This was it. Decision time.

In an instinctive move, I stepped forward, swung my leg over the saddle of my bike and turned the key. It was time to head south; time to head home.

Kenny wasn’t expecting me, so I was hoping he’d be excited to hear the unmistakeable sound of my Speed Triple humming in our driveway. Just 200 more hot slab miles stood between me and our little house. I put the hammer down and tried to ignore that sting that was starting to radiate across my hindquarters.

Our house is home of the best hugs in the world.

The following morning when Kenny came shuffling down the hall, I was already up and dressed to roll. “Where are you going now?” he asked.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t planned anything beyond getting my butt on the ferry and crossing the Long Island Sound, so I said… “I don’t know.”

View from the Port Jefferson Ferry

I had an 1:15 minutes to figure it out while I sat on the deck of the boat. What was the rush? I kissed my honey goodbye and headed for the ferry.

There was still more riding to be done.

Virginia Is For Motorcycle Lovers

Virginia Is For Motorcycle Lovers

When we left Long Island heading south, we were three. It was Graham, Bill and myself.

My Speed Triple heading to VirginiaWe were set to meet up with the other Bill in Virginia, which we did on Saturday night after our fab ride along the Blue Ridge.

And then we were four.

As it turns out, along with Graham and Bill, the other Bill rode a Weestrom, too. I was starting to feel like I was going to be kidnapped and indoctrinated by some weird Suzuki cult. Wee, Wee, Wee… all the way home.

Bikes parked at the motel

Saturday was a long but enjoyable day in the saddle. By the time we’d ridden to Virginia, ridden a stretch of the BRP and had dinner, I was pretty well knackered. We’d put about 600 miles in for the day and I was starting to feel it.

I shuffled myself back to my motel room and hit the hay.  I don’t remember shutting off the TV or being close to falling asleep. I just remember waking up in the morning to the sound of something electronic that deserved to die a horrible death.

I’m going to share a little tip with you.
If you enter your vacation time as an event on your office Outlook calendar and said calendar syncs with your phone – avoid setting the start time of the event to 6am. When you are ON said vacation, being awakened by an alert letting you know as much, is not good.

You’re welcome.

Since I was unable to find anything to smash my phone with, I got out of bed and peeked out the east-facing window. The sun was already burning its way through the silvery fog that hung on the mountains. It was going to be a great day for riding.

Virginia is for motorcycle lovers.

Sun over the mountains

I showered, packed up my bag and padded downstairs to get a better look at the morning. Not long after, Bill popped down with freshly percolated coffee from his travel pot. Yay!

Gentleman that he is (truly), Bill complimented my “fashion-forward” dressing:

“That’s some outfit ya got on there, Fuzz.”

I guess shorts, my REV’IT knee socks and pink Converse were a minor faux pas. Luckily he hadn’t spotted me a few minutes earlier when the right lens fell out of the spare sunglasses I was wearing.
REVIT Summer socks

Someday when I grow up I will be a beautiful princess. In the meantime I’ll keep perfecting the art of being an awkward dork. People seem to be enjoying it.

Bill and I made the day’s riding plans over coffee. We’d decided that we would head back north via neighboring West Virginia. When in the area, it would be criminal to skip riding Route 39 which starts around Lexington, Va. and would carry us west to Marlinton, Wv. So, that’s where we were headed. Route 39 is a fine, fine road.

When they moseyed on downstairs, Graham and the other Bill decided that they wanted to head south instead. With hugs and handshakes all around, Bill and I set off.

And then, we were two…

With only a teensy-weensy delay in having to double-back for my suicidal camera, we were heading west.