In the mid 70's (around'74) I joined a group of riders that would meet just to ride. One guy would post the destination, meeting point and time; you went or you didn't. He had an uncanny knack for picking scenic routes with an overnight stop with motel or camping. The first year I rode with them I had a 500 Kowasaki which was not well suited for back road cruisin'. Just before the Spring "organizational" meeting I found out one of the guys was probably selling his 1970 Triumph. I loved the sound of that bike, it was just the right size for me (I once owned a Norton Commando which was suicidally too big for me) and it was purple! I went to the meeting with a friend who, being male, insisted he was a better negotiator than I and told me to keep quiet - he would do the deal for me. Naturally as soon as the other guy got to the meeting I jumped all over him..."was his bike really for sale? How much did he want for it? OOh, how I loved it!" The rest is history; I've been in love ever since.(Fortunately the guy selling did not take advantage of my obvious enthusiasm.) Hector is named after a Greek warrior and just as incredible. No matter that he is 36 years old, he still has that sexy grumbling voice, the color still is my favorite, and the fit is still just right! There's been a few times when he sat patiently in the garage for years waiting for me, but there's also been times when he was my only transportation. He came with me in the back of my VW van when I moved to Arkansas, and to California. He rode back in the van to New York. He's been my constant joy and pride. When I moved to Arkansas "knowledgable folks" warned me how the southerners would hate me ( a yankee) and especially with a motorcycle. But Hector made friends. In California the van blew its engine and sat in the driveway for almost a year while Hector and I tore up the hills. He keeps it up in New York (although I have slowed down). One day last summer I was riding home, one of those boiling hot days. I was not a happy camper having had to ride into "city" traffic to keep a promise to go to Tiffany's Sweet 16 party in Liverpool park (this was before she lived here). I couldn't find the right place, cruised the stupid, hot, crowded park for an hour and headed back toward the 'burbs. Going down E. Taft road, I was disgusted at the wasted day, hot and sweaty with a very tired clutch hand. The light ahead turned red and as I slowed down and caught up to the car next to me the driver leaned out and with a thumbs up, mouthed "nice bike" and smiled. That smile was like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. Hector did it again - he saved the day. I realized how special he is, a universal ambassador of goodwill and a reminder of so many good times, so many blessings!
Thank you so much for making it possible to ride him again with confidence that he and I will make it to our destination in one piece!
