Today, John had his bike booked in for service at Doug Douglas Triumph in San Bernardino. So, unusually for us, we were up before dawn and on the road half an hour before the rest of the group. We had to try and get the bike there by 2pm. Earlier, if possible.
It was very liberating, riding the Golden Highway to Oatman all alone. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the pink light of the early morning sun perfectly complimented the desert landscape. The road was ours. The only traffic to watch for were the occasional startled rabbits.
Actually, that isn’t quite true. We did come across Tony and the New Zealanders, Brian and Barbara, who had taken some time out to do some target practice in the wilderness. But they would wait for the rest of the group to join them for breakfast in the Oatman Hotel, so we just exchanged greetings and rode on.
Despite our early departure, we more or less followed the itinerary: stopping, briefly, at Roy’s 
Café in Amboy; the Bagdad Café at Newbury Springs, and Peggy Sue’s Diner in Daggett. We made good time and, though we were unlikely to be able to get to the dealer before 2pm, we wouldn’t be late.
Knowing the technician would have to remove the fuel tank, John did not want to arrive with any more than a bare minimum. Mme Garmin said that we had 78 miles to go. John’s fuel gauge showed that he had 91 miles worth of fuel
However, at 1.50pm, with just four miles to go, the Triumph wheezed to a halt on the southbound exit ramp of I-210. Ha!
We remedied the problem fairly quickly. I simply went to the nearest gas station I could find and bought a plastic jerry can and 2 gallons of fuel. It took me a while to rearrange my luggage to find two bungies to strap the can on with, but I was back with John within 30 minutes or so, and 15 minutes later the bike was being wheeled into Doug Douglas’ workshop.
Doug and Joanne arrived a few minutes later to keep us company. A generous gesture, for which we were grateful, especially as nobody could seriously want to sit around a stuffy bike showroom for hours on end. Even the technician apparently decided he couldn’t be bothered to hang around on a hot Friday afternoon to complete the scheduled service. They were nice enough about it, the staff. Friendly and hospitable. But, nevertheless, I was annoyed. OK, so we were a little late but, to me, it had the whiff of yet another typical customer service let-down from a US Triumph dealer. Luckily, John is more tolerant than I am and, besides, he was distracted by the arrival of a brand new 1600 Thunderbird, one of the first in the US, on a trailer outside the showroom.
We got into the Quality Inn in Ontario at around 7pm. Oddly enough, John had mislaid our new jerry can. Disposal of evidence, if you ask me