Douchebags and Dirty Skies (158/365/2023)

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I had a meeting in Comox today, and I hate paying ferry reservation fees, so I opted to ride the motorcycle.

Last night I could faintly smell smoke, so it was clear that there was a change in the winds and that the smoke from the forest fires were now starting to drag down the coast and would probably be visible in the morning.

It was.

From the ferry it was clear that it was starting to move in.

Dirty skies have returned, it’s smoke season again, but it so, so early for it.

The douchebag?

Oh, yes.

So when I arrived at the ferry terminal and rode over to where the bikes typically wait to load, there was one rider already there. He was riding a new Triumph Tiger 850.

Very nice bike.

We were going to be loading pretty quickly, so I didn’t take off my helmet. As we waited, a third rider came down and just rode straight up onto the ferry, I guess either the ferry worker told him to ride on and assumed we’d follow, or he just saw the light turn green and went straight on up the ramp. Regardless, I started my bike and waited for a moment for the rider ahead of me to go, but he had been caught off guard and was fumbling to get his key in the ignition, so I went ahead and followed the first rider up and onto the ferry.

When the three bikes were parked and helmets removed I joked at the older fellow who’d ridden straight up, and said something along the lines of that being one of the most efficient arrivals I’d seen.

He grunted at me.

Very well then, not a morning person perhaps. Will leave you and your Kawasaki cafe 750 something alone.

As I was pulling off my jacket, the other rider, probably about my age, said something, I don’t remember what, but I asked him if his bike was new, which he said it was, he’d just had it for a few months.

He nodded to mine and said “yours is new too?”

“No, I’ve been riding it for ten years.”

He looked surprised, I get that a lot. The bike is in very good condition.

We dispersed and I went and had some breakfast, did a little bit of work and, as the ferry got closer to Departure Bay, I went back down to the deck.

The three of pulled helmets and gloves on, and waited on our bikes for the ferry to dock.

As I was sitting there, looking around, I looked down at my bike and the display and various buttons.

My eyes landed on the kill switch.

I don’t use it. When I took my course they did teach us to use it, but I don’t.

But something was off.

Literally.

I was staring at it and then at the symbols, and then at the ignition switch below it.

Ignition switch….little almost-complete circle which, I suppose, implies engine spinning up.

Symbol at the bottom of the kill switch, same little almost-circle.

Symbol at the top of the kill switch, little almost-circle with an X through it.

So X means switch is engaged…..when the button is depressed towards the top.

If in this position, the bike will not start.

Said switch is “never” in this position…..

….except for right then.

So if I had not noticed this, if I was not aware of my bike and have ten years’ worth of subconscious familiarity with it, I would have been trying to start my bike and probably have assumed my battery was dead (I have had this event occur on said ferry and it was not fun).

The only plausible reason said switch was int hat position is that one of these two men was a douchebag and thought it would be a fun sport to watch the lady-rider not be able to start her bike and wouldn’t that be amusing.

Well, no joy for you, I did not play your game, and I hope you felt cheated.

I also hope you were even more irritated when I left both of you in my dust on the highway, because my bike is bigger, more powerful, and faster than either of yours.

But even more than 12 hours later, I am still irritated by the event. I’ve always felt that my bike was safe on the deck. That a rider would never touch another rider’s bike.

Apparently I was wrong. And it really feels like a violation.

On the return trip, there were four riders, including me. The one rider ahead of me was a woman, and when I pulled in behind her she was on the phone. When she ended her call she turned around and her face split into a huge smile and she said “Welcome fellow rider!” “Welcome fellow LADY rider!!”

And the time flew by as we chatted. Her bike was new to her, she only started riding last year, we were about the same age. How long had I been riding? 15 years!?!?! She peppered me with questions about everything from gear to roads and when we parked the bikes on the ferry she tanked me for all the information. The other two riders were, if not as gregarious, equally nice. One fellow from Nova Scotia who flew out here for work, he’s an iron worker. He bought a KLR650 and has been exploring BC, and loves it. The other fellow from Vancouver, on a new to him 2015 FZ-09.

Still dirty skies in the distance…and now hanging closer to the city, but no douchebags on the return trip, so that sort of made up for the bad taste the morning left in my day.