The nearest Harley dealer was 75 (or 85, depending who you asked) miles away. So my bike was loaded on the tow truck and Vaughn followed closely behind. The tow truck driver (Wilson) had directions from both of us not to lose Vaughn. And Wilson did a magnificent job - of transporting my bike up and down mountains, checking it when the pavement changed (gravel to pot-holed road, pot-holed road to interstate) and stopping to give Vaughn directions when we entered the "town" about where he would be turning in case we got separated. The good news is we never got separated. The other good news is that it was just the battery, which the dealership was able to replace. So after waiting about two hours we were able to return back to the cabin.
Gotta love Garmin for finding the "direct" route home. But at least we got to see some amazing "motorcycle" roads. I would tend to call them the "scenic" route.
When we stopped for dinner, I immediately apologized for our attire - the vented pants and jackets with armor that we wear when riding. The owner of the restaurant asked if we'd had a good day of riding. Not quite! After telling him where we had been, he knew exactly who we were. His buddy is the guy who owns the place we are renting - word travels fast in a small town! We were quite glad to get back to the cabin to enjoy the evening's sunset.
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