NOT riding Route 66
The bike immediately went into a tank slapper that took me across two lanes and the hard shoulder of a totally empty highway. Somehow, when the bike stopped shaking, I was still on top of it. I'd like to say it was my skill that kept me on the bike but in reality I just got lucky. The Electra Glide was less lucky – its front wheel was wrecked.
On my travels in America, I’ve found people to be almost universally friendly and this was never more obvious than my time on that hard shoulder. A procession of people (mostly Harley riders) stopped to offer assistance. It became a ritual. They’d pull up in their pick-up trucks (no one in Texas drives a car) and offer help. I’d show them the wheel. We’d agree there was nothing to be done at the roadside. We’d exchange bikers’ stories for a few minutes. They’d ask if I
