to tell some stories about some of the unusual optimistic experiences I've had over the many
years (that I wish I had back) behaving like a young immortal.
Hitting reserve; a prelude to a longer story:
I was roaming around the Texas Hill Country not far from home on Lake Travis riding my
76 CB750F when the motor started cutting out and then quit completely. I reached down
for the reserve petcock setting to find that it was already on reserve. Somewhat alarmed
I pulled to the side of the road to start problem solving. looking around I realized I was
not close to any signs of civilization and pushing that heavy lug anywhere was out of the
question so my only option was to wait in the afternoon sun and try to flag down the rare
passing vehicle and try to get them to get some gas for me.
Alarm no. two; I opened my wallet to find I only had $2 (long before credit cards) and if
the willing soul had nothing to hold gas, the stations would want a large deposit to use
All I could do is hope to get lucky and meanwhile try to improvise a syphon hose using all
the vent tubes and fuel lines I could piece together from what was on the bike.
After about 20 min. of waiting, a car full of partying kids pull up behind me and asked if
I needed help ! I explained my situation and asked if they had anything that would hold
gas and that I only needed just enough to get to a gas station. All they had was a bunch of
empty beer bottles and cans and no way to seal them so I reluctantly suggested they could
take my fuel tank (custom painted) and my $2 with them and just pray they would bring
it back. The driver handed me a beer and away they went.
Now I really felt vulnerable sitting on the side of the road with a bike without not only
fuel but no tank either. I might never see them again and they all (six) were pretty well
plastered but quite friendly.
After about a half hour they came rolling up and opened the trunk and handed me the full
to the brim tank (not a scratch on it) and my $2 and another beer ! I thanked them profusely
and offered to drain some of the gas into their car but they declined, wished me well and away
they went cheerfully waving their beers out the windows.
I had to return the favor to someone, somewhere, somehow, every chance I get because I received
far more than a tank of gas that afternoon