The Ride Leader's Return Home
- The Ballad of Sylvain -
It was such a perfect way to start a
Sunday...the sun was up, the sky was clear, the air was fresh, Monday was a
public holiday and the smell of bacon and eggs were in the air courtesy of
Peter - chef extraordinaire. After stomachs were full those who needed to be
on their way bid us adieu, leaving Kim,
Sue, Ron, Sylvain and I to pursue weekend type things. Keen to build on my baaarrely existent
twisties-skills, Sylvain had devised four routes in and around Halls Gap for
the afternoon to test my leaning capabilities. So after a quick fuel stop to
keep the tanks full, the two of us putt-putted up the mountain to McKenzie
falls. Being the gentleman rider as always, Sylvain went slow so that I could (try
to) follow his lines through the corners and build up some confidence. I was
feeling quite chuffed with my efforts by the time we got to the top, where we
decided to walk down to the falls - in
full gear...*sigh*...not such a great idea in full sun. 45 minutes, two
ice-creams and two drinks later we were back on the bikes and back down the
mountain. Again Sylvain played lookout for me, this time keeping tailgaters
away by following my somewhat ordinary pace.
We decided to stop for lunch and
parked opposite the main drag. Once off his bike, and with his helmet off
Sylvain frowned - not for the first time that morning - "can you still
smell fuel?" Previously, while in the car park at
Sylvain pulled off his rather new
gloves and ducked his hand under the small side cover on the Triumph - and came
out with a hand saturated in fuel. This was definitely NOT GOOD.
"Bugger" said Sylvain (or
words to that effect).
So out came the tool kit and three
twists of an allen key later the problem was revealed, a leaking fuel tap...and
not leaking slowly either. By now a few other bikers on their way through to
lunch had parked around us, and it was beginning to look like a bike-only
parking lot...complete with "Garage de Sylvain" (pronounce in French
accent). Everyone who stopped asked if they could help at all, as is the nature
of the Two Wheeled World. Trying to not look like a 3rd wheel, I trotted off to
the servo to look for things of possible use...and bumped into Kim and Sue on
the way. Soon they were over to help with the patch-job, which was looking more
desperate as the minutes ticked on. Another group stopped to talk - this time
an actual bunch of Triumph riders who had come into town for lunch in the car.
Finally a large swathe of bandage was jammed around the fuel taps, secured with
copious amounts of tape, a rather backyard engineering exercise, but it looked
ok.
Everyone stepped back as Sylvain
blipped the throttle…
"Off, off...turn it OFF!"
was the immediate cry from the bikers who were supervising. There was now a
small lagoon of fuel under the Speed Triple.
"Bugger" said Sylvain (or
words to that effect).
The Triumph would not make it back
to
But all was not lost! While the
engineering effort had been underway I had been on the phone to friends and
family, and had managed to track down a vehicle with a tow bar and somewhere to
hire a bike trailer. Now all we needed to do was figure out the details.
Given they were staying on two extra
nights, Kim and Sue kindly offered to keep an eye on the Triumph back at the campsite...so off the
Triumph took, back to the its spot beside the
tent under the awesome two-man power of Kim and Sylvain. I even had to
wheel half way back...on my own!...because Sylvain had taken off waddling the
Trumpy with my bike key in his pocket.