From the Library

[Biggles]

I was having fun. As I approached one of the curves, which was a blind curve, all of a sudden a tractor-trailer cab coming the other way passed me on my left. 
Following behind it was a large flatbed filled with redwood logs piled high. I was already into the blind curve and the cab passed me. I was looking at a very large flatbed and large trees charging at me with no place to go. This all happened in less than a second.
Perhaps you've had a similar experience when time slowed your mind speeded up the factors that were about  to happen. I figured that if I went forward any further I would be run over by the attacking flatbed. The same would happen if I dumped the bike to the left. To my right was a sheer vertical hillside of dirt that would not allow me to dump the bike. All these options lead to death. I was about to die. Actually, I was okay with that.
What really happened without thinking was just instinctive. I leaned to the right and because the dirt was soft enough and I was going at the right speed, the hillside stopped the motorcycle without going another inch.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p90

[Biggles]

Another event worth mentioning was the ticket I was issued in Washington State for not wearing a helmet while driving a motorcycle. Every state has different laws about wearing helmets. I dropped my bike often enough to always wear a helmet while driving a motorcycle unless it was 110° in the desert. The officer caught me in a state of unawareness and issued me a ticket. After I made it home and had been in college for a few months, I got a letter in the mail from Washington State informing me that I hadn't paid the ticket. They were right, I had not. I had good intentions but at the time I was in college without any income besides the G.I. bill. I received a few more letters without a threat to my license. Evidently there is no reciprocity between Pennsylvania and Washington. Finally they sent me a letter stating that my driving privileges in the state of Washington were revoked. I guess I'll always have to avoid driving through Washington State.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p94-5

[Biggles]

Somewhere around Moose Jaw I caught up with a motorcycle pack going east along what I call Maple Leaf 1. I never rode with more than three or four other bikes. At the end of the pack was a single motorcycle and I drove alongside him and nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders and with my face gesturing, presenting the question: Is it okay to ride with the group? He shrugged his shoulders and gave me the yes gesture. Just like that I was part of the pack. There were a dozen or so motorcycles claiming authority over a half-mile stretch of the highway. A pack like this creates enough thunder to turn heads as you pass by or stop for a red light. 
You have the feeling of being part of a powerhouse that is questionably legal. I was allowed into this group without initiation. Like robbing a bank or letting my girlfriend, if I had one, ride with the leadership for a few months. Actually, the group started with a half a dozen bikes and picked up more stragglers like me as they continued their journey.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p105

[Biggles]

There was a park on the right side of the road and a car pulling out of the park exit. It looked like a white, long, old Ford. It was filled with people and lumbering its way onto the road. There wasn't any traffic on the road except for us. He started his left hand turn to get on the other side of the road and continued his short but slow turn. I was pretty close to him but he still had plenty of time to make his turn. That's when he stopped.
His big old car was covering the whole right side of the road and came to a complete halt. Once again time slowed down to make a decision. I didn't have enough time or distance to go around in front of him. Nor did I know if he would step on the gas and I would wind up T-boning the car. The only choice I had was trying to get round the back of his car without hitting the dirt shoulder and dumping the bike doing 50 mph. I was closing in fast and I went to the right and hoped that I wouldn't hit him or the shoulder. Well, I hit him and the shoulder.
It was a glancing blow off the bike and to his rear bumper. That part of the bike had a foot peg with my foot on it. The hit threw the rear end sideways onto stones on the shoulder. I kept the bike from falling somehow but kept going from one side of the shoulder to the other until I managed to get it back on the road and stabilize the ride. I was almost to the top of the hill when I could finally stop. I looked up and I was about 20 feet away from a hitchhiker. He must've witnessed my entire daredevil, Evil Knievel ride.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p109-10

[Biggles]

It was time to see if I could drive the bike with a cast on my leg. The cast had a small heel built into it so I could use that for pushing on the pedal for the rear brake. My toes stuck out the front so I put a sock over the cast. I had to make a slit up my blue jeans to get them over the cast. With the aid of crutches I got to the motorcycle. I attached the crutches to the sissy bar with all the other stuff using bungee cords. I got on the bike, kicked over the engine and away I went. It worked really well for a while. I must've looked like a wounded refugee on motorcycle, cast, crutches, and floppy jeans but I was putting some miles on the bike. 
Probably about 10 miles. I heard some clanking noises from the housing below the engine. Then I heard a snap. The secondary chain broke. I had enough momentum to pull into a gas station. The gas station was more of a repair garage. It had a couple of bays with cars on the lift and people working on them.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p115-6

[Biggles]

I changed buses in Buffalo, New York and the next stop was Reading, Pennsylvania. I slept all the way through the ride and was still groggy when I got off the bus at Reading. There was a bus loading to go to Allentown and me and my crutches with the bag went over to the Allentown bus. Unbeknownst to me it was Sunday morning.
The bus was packed with passengers. They were all silver haired church ladies. As I shuffled down the aisle after awkwardly getting up the steps with crutches and bag, all eyes looked down to the floor or out the window. They were as afraid of me as I as of them. Fortunately there was a mafia looking guy down the right side of the aisle who gave me eye contact and motioned that I was acceptable and I could sit next to him.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p117

[Biggles]

We finally reached the garage. The owner was there and so was the motorcycle. I paid him storage fees and rolled the bike out to put on the rack. The motorcycle weighs 450 pounds. It was not an easy thing to lift and fit in the back but we did it. It fit very snugly against the rear of the Corvair. The Corvair's engine is in the rear and so was the motorcycle. Standing beside the car and looking at it was a sight to behold. It looked like it was ready for lift off. The front end of the Corvair barely touched the ground.
We piled in the car and drove it about a quarter of a mile. There was very little front tire contact with the ground. The car seemed to seesaw between touching the ground and being air-borne. This would not do. We turned around and went back to the garage. We took the motorcycle off and put the rack in the front of the car along with the motorcycle. I sat in the front seat and stared at the motorcycle which was eye level with me. I couldn't see over it. This would not work!
This was surely a comedy of errors.
Those Were The Days  Edward Walls p122