Bills Monterey Custom Motorcycles
When I arrived in Monterey, Henrietta was whining something terrible. I parked her up and went for a walk down Cannery Row, with all the other tourists. Along the way, I noticed a Harley parked on the side of the road, looking around I noticed a bloke sitting on a bench with all the leathers on. “Scuse me squire, that your bike?” “Yep!” “I just rode down from San Fran and my bike is making a shocking noise, I wonder if you could have a listen, I’m new to Harley’s.” “Sure, bring it on down,” On my return he had a listen and thought it wasn’t real serious but needed sorted right away, before it did more damage. The nearest Harley dealer was in San Jose he thought, about an hour and a half north, where I’d just come from. In the morning, reluctantly, I was going to have to go back. I booked into the Hi Monterey and went to the Bulldog British Pub to drown my sorrows…Always find a local…! I got talking to Sam who was trying to watch the Hockey game and I told him my story, “Nah! No need to go to San Jose” he said, “there’s a place here in Monterey that works on Harley’s; they do all the work for the bikie gangs, a couple of pints later I was feeling much better, with directions to Bills Monterey Custom Motor Cycles. At 9-30am there was no sign of life at Bills, I hung around till 10, no joy, just as I was pulling out they arrived and before I could say too much, Tony had his ear to the engine, a quick word to Randy and Henrietta was rolled into the workshop and they were pulling her apart. They didn’t seem to mind me hanging around watching the operation, something that wouldn’t happen at a Harley dealership. A bearing in the primary casing behind the clutch basket was the culprit and I’d had my first lesson in Harley maintenance. I went round the corner to buy a pair of jeans and by the time I got back, it was all over, Henrietta wasn’t whining anymore but Tony and Randy both agreed the cam lifters were rattling and should be replaced before I took off over east. I had to store her somewhere, when I went to Costa Rica in a week’s time, so it was decided, I would leave her with them and they would sort it out while I was away.
The following morning I was on the road to L.A, arriving just as it was getting dark; remarkably I found my way to the hostel in Venice without getting lost and ran into some of the people I’d met there 3 months earlier. Alison and Emily 2 had gone; Dave was living on a house boat in Marina Del Ray, Elinor was back in Boston with hubby, Emily 1 was still there, along with Yoshi, Carl and Mary who didn’t get a mention last time around because we hadn’t spoken much. This time though Mary was very friendly and if I’d been staying longer than one night, I’d like to have got to know her better. It still wasn’t very warm but on the way down to San Diego the following day 101 went inland about 10 miles from the coast and the temperature shot up between 10 and 15 degrees, so I always knew when I was getting back near the coast by how cold it was. I arrived in San Diego to what they call the June gloom, cloudy and damp; it stayed like that the three days I was there, so I was happy to get back on the road back to Monterey. Interstate 5 turns into 405 just before L.A and if you want you can shoot straight through without touching any of it and get back onto 5 at the other end, I was trying to get back in one day, a distance of about 450 miles. Just passed Santa Barbara, the head wind started, trying to blow me off the bike, I persevered for a while but eventually had to stop for the night, pulling off at a small town called Los Alamos where I found the fantastic Union Hotel. Built in the 1800’s with a real Wild West look, a saloon with spittoons and a place to tie up the horse outside, the following day I dropped Henrietta off. I was on my way to Costa Rica.
I am….THE LONESOME TRAVELLER….travelling east….BE HAPPY!