It was chilly yesterday (Sunday) here, but it was a special day so I was going riding come hell or high water. As most of you probably remember, I've got a new GSXR. I just got the license plate and mounted it on the bike last week.
Yesterday afternoon around 3 I went for a ride through my favorite set of curves. Only my second time taking this bike to "the curves" that permeate the MS river bluff north of Memphis, where I cut my motorcycling teeth. I rode ohhhhhhh, maybe 35 miles before I arrived in downtown Memphis and stopped at a park to have a smoke and watch a barge or two pass by.
I'm standing there admiring how I was eating away at those stinking chicken strips on the rear tire (like I said, it was only the second time I had taken the new bike to the curves), when I suddenly notice . . . the @#$%ing license plate's missing!
I was like W . . . T . . . F????
I had stopped to fill up in Frayser, which is a horrible part of Memphis (as if there's a "non-horrible" part
) and I'm starting to think that some punk must have snuck up behind themeatman while he pumped gas with his helmet on and snagged the tags off of his new bike.
I quickly came to me senses and realized that somewhere . . . over the past 35 #$%^ing miles(!!!) . . . my new tag (which had OBVIOUSLY not been installed properly my yours truly) must have rattled itself off.
In a panic, I re-mounted the machine and started re-tracing my steps. Bear in mind . . . I had made a 'spirited sprint' all the way here
and was due to be back at home in about 25 minutes. I started re-tracing my path . . . at 25 mph . . . scanning everywhichaway for my freaking tags.
I'm freaking riding down a 4-lane divided highway . . . at 33 mph . . . in the left lane . . . scanning the opposite lanes . . . with my hazards on . . . while cars blow around me at 60-70 mph. Nope, no tags here.
Finally, I arrive back in the curves, where it's a little easier to look for the lost plates (because I'm not having to scan two lanes + emergency lanes on the other side of a median). I'm riding down the road, scanning for my plates, when I see the license plate cover. Like a dimwit, I think "Well there's the cover, but THAT does me no good." You know that little part of your brain that acts like your mother? Yeah, that part. That part says, [mama's voice] "Well, numbnuts, if the COVER'S there, doesn't it stand to reason that the plate's got to be SOMEWHERE near here?" [/mama's voice]
I immediately grabbed a handful of brake and pulled to the side of the road and hopped off . . . almost stepping on my $70 license plate in the process!
I snagged the plate and the cover, then spent 5 seconds looking for the little plastic screws that held it on before realizing that I was on a curvy road with multiple elevation shifts and <hey!!
> I just might get killed if I don't get back on my machine and develop a little momentum!
I rode home with the plate shoved down the back of my pants and arrived only 1/2 hour late.
For some reason, I felt like a teenager that has mischievously set his/her watch back and tried to convince their parents that they are late coming home from a date because their watch is wrong: "Yeah, honey . . . I know I was supposed to be home 1/2 hour ago, but my license plate fell off and well, you know, I had to keep riding my new motorcycle until I found it.
I'm going to the store this afternoon to get 2 sets of metal license plate mounting hardware.