Randall K. Wilson
Junior Member
Last week I solo motored my ’03 Roadking from Central Indiana to Central Tennessee. During this trip I made several overnight stops going and returning. With over 42K on the odometer (and original cam chain tensioners) this machine runs like a precision jeweled Illinois Railroad pocket watch. The weather was perfect with no rain the entire trip. However something happened during the last 100 miles that really rattled me. I am sharing this experience in an effort of helping others.
At 57 sometimes I think I am getting a little wiser. Yikes….not the case though.
My King has two sets of saddle Bags. The solid black original painted ones, and a set of leather Iron T Bags (aftermarket), which I bought slightly used in 2002. These Iron T bags are beautiful and very heavily embellished with the optional “high roller” stud package. On this trip my machine was set up with the Corbin solo seat and the leather Iron T Bags.
On returning about 75 miles from Indianapolis, I stopped at Lyons, IN to visit a former high school classmate. Upon leaving Lyons I could be home in 2 hours. After departing I got 25 miles on up the road and entered Spencer IN. The Pizza Hut looked inviting and I pulled in with the intentions of getting a flat round Italian vittle. Two things I cannot life without, music and pizza.
As I was turning off my engine, a couple of good ole boys in a Ford Pick-up pulled up next to me and yelled, “Hey you lost your saddle bag way back on the other side of Worthington.” I looked down and behold, the right saddlebag was gone. :17: Now folks, you talk about a sick feeling. I was literally rattled! Now I realized I would have to back track 20-25 miles if I wanted to take a shot at finding it. I thanked the gents that brought this to my attention, and with undue delay I headed back southwest from whence I came.
Immediately I realized why the saddlebag separated from my cycle. When you change from the stock bags to the leather bags you use the same twist pins and flat washer. BUT, in this case the Iron T bags may require an additional washer or washers in order for it to remain a snug fit. I knew this but at the time I installed the right bag I added an extra washer to only one pin. The pin with one washer had fell out once, but I thought “oh well one pin with hold it if one comes out”. Boy was I ever wrong. Nutshell, it was my own dumb negligence this happened and boy was I getting sick.:wall
In reality a new set of bags like mine would run I’m sure at least one thousand dollars or more. Not to mention the value of the contents within the bag: A whiz bang by golly H-D rain suit. Which at one time one of these was tested in a car wash. A nearly new pair of expensive American made shoes. A real deal leather shaving kit full of personal toiletries, including the Paul Sebastian cologne that spins my wife’s beanie when I wear it daily. A pair of prescription sunglasses, and expensive car polish, etc. etc.
I could see the road sign of the town of Lyons and realized that most likely someone had stopped and picked my bag up. My attempts of finding the bag on the roadside were vain. Hi-Way 67 being a pretty well travelled road, no telling how many folks had zipped up and down it since I had lost my departed bag.
As I motored on back to Indianapolis, I started getting a more optimistic view of this situation. There was something near and dear to our State Fathers also within the bag. My Indiana State DVM vehicle registration document. Of which I usually at times carry on my person. Now I’m thinking if an honest person found it I may have a better than 50% chance of getting it back since they would now know my name, Randall K. (Dummy) Wilson and my address.
I dreaded breaking the news to my little “Hen” of nearly 38 years when I got home. After explaining the whole scenario to her she uttered, “Boy that was an expensive trip”, followed by, “Just how in the world did that thang fall off anyway!” Now I’m starting to feel an ulcer coming on in my tummy.
With all of this being said I was still in hopes I would get a call from the finder.
SOMEONE DID FIND IT!!! :bigsmiley8::apLate in the evening the phone rang and it was the finder who lived locally in the area where I lost it. I was so delighted you would have thought Willie G. Davidson himself had called me. According to this wonderful, gracious, pillar of the community citizen, her son was driving near Switz City and his truck broke down. He got out of his truck to deal with his situation and noticed the bag lying down in a ditch more so, which ran alongside the hi-way.
The next morning, with a sack of flat washers and an array of industrial fasteners, my pal and I road our cycles back to Owen county were we met the finder at a gas station in Spencer Indiana. As these nice folk handed me my bag I stepped back and removed my wallet. I pulled out a 50 dollar bill and handed it to them and pleaded my case that I should give them more, but that I am a retired pensioner on a fixed income. (I know people get tired of hearing me say that) :worthyRegardless the 50 dollar bill seemed to bring a little twinkle in their eyes, so I assume they did not deem me the stingy “Jack Benny” of Harley riders.
Damage to the bag was minimal and I think I can touch up the one scraped place and most folk will never know it was ever there.
As I have said before, at 57 sometimes I think I am getting a little wiser, then reality sets in and I realize, “uh….not the case.” Flat Washers Rock!
At 57 sometimes I think I am getting a little wiser. Yikes….not the case though.
My King has two sets of saddle Bags. The solid black original painted ones, and a set of leather Iron T Bags (aftermarket), which I bought slightly used in 2002. These Iron T bags are beautiful and very heavily embellished with the optional “high roller” stud package. On this trip my machine was set up with the Corbin solo seat and the leather Iron T Bags.
On returning about 75 miles from Indianapolis, I stopped at Lyons, IN to visit a former high school classmate. Upon leaving Lyons I could be home in 2 hours. After departing I got 25 miles on up the road and entered Spencer IN. The Pizza Hut looked inviting and I pulled in with the intentions of getting a flat round Italian vittle. Two things I cannot life without, music and pizza.
As I was turning off my engine, a couple of good ole boys in a Ford Pick-up pulled up next to me and yelled, “Hey you lost your saddle bag way back on the other side of Worthington.” I looked down and behold, the right saddlebag was gone. :17: Now folks, you talk about a sick feeling. I was literally rattled! Now I realized I would have to back track 20-25 miles if I wanted to take a shot at finding it. I thanked the gents that brought this to my attention, and with undue delay I headed back southwest from whence I came.
Immediately I realized why the saddlebag separated from my cycle. When you change from the stock bags to the leather bags you use the same twist pins and flat washer. BUT, in this case the Iron T bags may require an additional washer or washers in order for it to remain a snug fit. I knew this but at the time I installed the right bag I added an extra washer to only one pin. The pin with one washer had fell out once, but I thought “oh well one pin with hold it if one comes out”. Boy was I ever wrong. Nutshell, it was my own dumb negligence this happened and boy was I getting sick.:wall
In reality a new set of bags like mine would run I’m sure at least one thousand dollars or more. Not to mention the value of the contents within the bag: A whiz bang by golly H-D rain suit. Which at one time one of these was tested in a car wash. A nearly new pair of expensive American made shoes. A real deal leather shaving kit full of personal toiletries, including the Paul Sebastian cologne that spins my wife’s beanie when I wear it daily. A pair of prescription sunglasses, and expensive car polish, etc. etc.
I could see the road sign of the town of Lyons and realized that most likely someone had stopped and picked my bag up. My attempts of finding the bag on the roadside were vain. Hi-Way 67 being a pretty well travelled road, no telling how many folks had zipped up and down it since I had lost my departed bag.
As I motored on back to Indianapolis, I started getting a more optimistic view of this situation. There was something near and dear to our State Fathers also within the bag. My Indiana State DVM vehicle registration document. Of which I usually at times carry on my person. Now I’m thinking if an honest person found it I may have a better than 50% chance of getting it back since they would now know my name, Randall K. (Dummy) Wilson and my address.
I dreaded breaking the news to my little “Hen” of nearly 38 years when I got home. After explaining the whole scenario to her she uttered, “Boy that was an expensive trip”, followed by, “Just how in the world did that thang fall off anyway!” Now I’m starting to feel an ulcer coming on in my tummy.
With all of this being said I was still in hopes I would get a call from the finder.
SOMEONE DID FIND IT!!! :bigsmiley8::apLate in the evening the phone rang and it was the finder who lived locally in the area where I lost it. I was so delighted you would have thought Willie G. Davidson himself had called me. According to this wonderful, gracious, pillar of the community citizen, her son was driving near Switz City and his truck broke down. He got out of his truck to deal with his situation and noticed the bag lying down in a ditch more so, which ran alongside the hi-way.
The next morning, with a sack of flat washers and an array of industrial fasteners, my pal and I road our cycles back to Owen county were we met the finder at a gas station in Spencer Indiana. As these nice folk handed me my bag I stepped back and removed my wallet. I pulled out a 50 dollar bill and handed it to them and pleaded my case that I should give them more, but that I am a retired pensioner on a fixed income. (I know people get tired of hearing me say that) :worthyRegardless the 50 dollar bill seemed to bring a little twinkle in their eyes, so I assume they did not deem me the stingy “Jack Benny” of Harley riders.
Damage to the bag was minimal and I think I can touch up the one scraped place and most folk will never know it was ever there.
As I have said before, at 57 sometimes I think I am getting a little wiser, then reality sets in and I realize, “uh….not the case.” Flat Washers Rock!
