Walter

Shocking Experience

After paying his dues on that little BSA, Walter moved substantially up on the motorcycling status ladder when he purchased a 1969 Triumph Bonneville. That machine commanded respect. It also demanded a lot of upkeep. It seemed to spend more time in the shop than it did on the road. Every time we rode somewhere together, it was almost a

Walter on his recently purchased Bonneville.

given that some roadside repair work would be required. One such time was on a trip we took to Chatham, Ontario.

We were heading back home after an uneventful two days, when suddenly the Triumph died and coasted to the side of the road. After both of us in turn tried to kick the bike back to life without achieving even a hint of a sputter, we finally admitted defeat. Both red in the face and gasping for air, we pushed the potential boat anchor off the shoulder and on to an adjacent field. It was time for some trouble shooting. Since Lucas, the prince of darkness, was still in charge of providing the electrics on this bike, it was only logical to start our investigation in that area. We pulled a plug and kicked some more to see if we could see a spark. Unfortunately neither of us could. We were not sure if it was just too bright a day for us to be able to see, or that the spark was just that weak. Then I came up with a sure fire method to confirm our suspicions.

Now Walter is not a dummy by any stretch of the imagination, but on that day one had to wonder. Evilly, I suggested he hold the plug in his hand while I kicked the engine over. I told him it was not unlike testing a nine volt battery with the tip of one's tongue; just a little bit of a tickle. Besides, since we hadn't seen a spark earlier, nothing would probably happen anyway.

So Walter crouched down by the engine and grabbed hold of the plug, while I positioned myself by the kick-starter. I leapt into the air and came down with as much force as I could on the pedal. Because it was unencumbered by the compression of one cylinder, it flew down through its arc of travel in the blink of an eye. Almost as quickly, Walter was lying on his back and spread eagled several feet away. Houston, we have ignition!

For several long moments I didn't know whether I should burst out in laughter, or be very concerned as he lay there with his eyes wide open but eerily very still. Then at last he spoke, "I think my heart stopped". It was then that I knew it was safe to laugh (I told you I was evil). But my mirth was short lived. Although he had the plug in one hand, his keys were in the other. His violent reaction to the thousands of volts passing through him resulted in him flinging those keys towards the sky and ultimately far off into the overgrown field.

We searched for a very long time without success. In the end, Walter had to find a secure place for the bike to stay until he could arrange for transporting it back home a week later. Surprisingly, he never seemed to hold this little incident against me.