Day 8 - Oil Filters 'n Sandals

Well, as I mentioned yesterday, we get 'nuther pre-dawn start today…which we sorta regretted 'cause the ride along the Indian River north of Jensen Beach was beautiful in the dark. I can only imagine how nice it woulda been at sunrise. Oh well, live 'n learn. Today, we flirted with A1A and the coast…jumpin back over to US-1 to shoot thru the congested areas. Somewhere 'round Titusville I think, we stopped for gas…which is where Cuz notices he as an oil leak. We wipe things down, and watch it for a minute and determine it's leakin 'round the oil filter. It's significant, but not pourin, so Cuz decides to pick up an oil filter wrench at a nearby parts store and give it a crank or two. This seemed to slow it down a bit…and there was a Harley dealer 40 miles up the road…so we mount up and head that way. 'Bout halfway there, I look in the mirror and see Cuz waaaaaaay back on the side of the highway…not good. Ck 'n I wheel ole Rattler 'round and head back to see what has gone awry. As we pull over beside 'em, Loosie greets us with a very disgusted look on her face. Seems that li'l crank ole Cuz applied to that leakin oil filter was just a bit too much…and the thing buckled, completely blowin the seal of the gasket, and dumpin a buncha oil. And Loosie's disgusted look? Seems Cuz was first alerted to said oil filter failure by Loosie as she loudly informed him that her brand new sandals were ruined by all that oil streamin outta the bike. Huh? Wha?! Oil?! Now, you 'n I both know that's the kinda reasons ya wear boots on bike rides…but, at this point, would YOU tell her "I told ya so"? I didn't think so. hehe

Anyways, CK 'n I head up the highway 'bout 17 miles to the Harley dealer in New Smyrna Beach, retrieve a new filter and some oil, and shoot back down the highway to Cuz 'n Loosie. Twist on the new filter, top her off with oil, and all is right in the world again…that is 'cept for Loosie, who is now sans sandals for the rest of our ride up to Fernandina Beach for this night's stay. Whew, as fixes go, this was an easy one…at least, for the bike.

We continue on up US-1 for a ways, before cuttin east back over to A1A for a ride into St. Augustine. We were gonna stop and spend some time there, but the day was gettin damned hot, and, accordin to Loosie, we were almost ten-miles-from-hell again. So, we just breezed thru, and headed on up to the St. Johns River Ferry for the crossing to Amelia Island, and on to our condo awaitin us in Fernandina Beach. Now, it was along this stretch of A!A on Amelia Island that I confirmed what a bud I had in ole Cuz. If'n any of ya's have been keepin up with the antics of my bud, Muthuh (www.muthuh.com), ya might recall how a certain rider watched Muthuh's leather jacket of some thirteen years fly off the back of his scoot…and didn't stop to pick it up or even bother to run up and tell him 'bout it. Sorry Muthuh…don't mean to rub salt in old wounds. For the second time today, I look in the mirror and find that Cuz is not right behind me…hell, this time he's nowhere to be seen. Once again, with an equally bad feelin, I wheel ole Rattler 'round and go lookin for 'em. Talkin 'bout yer contrasts…on the one hand, ya gotta dude that thinks an old friend like a leather jacket isn't worth stoppin fer…and then there's ole Cuz, who'll stop for a favorite old dewrag that flew off my scoot. Good buds are hard to find…and equally good to have, aye.

Now, somethin I didn't tell way back at the first of this ride at the sendoff party at the Lazy S…but Loosie introduced us to something called a Mango Margarita, which I enjoyed a bit too much and proceeded to finish off her only bottle that night. Hey, whadda hell…there's sure to be Mango Margs flowin from the taps in Key West…right? Hell No! We couldn't find even a mention of it the whole trip…'til Amelia Island that is. After gettin settled into our condo, I run back down the island to a shoppin center we passed, and hit the liqour store for some reg'lar margs…and there it was…my saviour…Mango Margs…a whole freakin shelf of 'em…mebbe Loosie will forgive me now. Sure 'nuff, I walk in the front door, pulled the bottle from the bag, and was greeted with squeels of delight. You'd think I'd just hit the Powerball or somethin. Oh well, least the gals were happy. Hey, if momma ain't happy, noone's happy.

The gals enjoyed some time on the beach, finished off their bottle of mango, and we had a fun dinner on the outside deck of the restaurant across the street. We're tired, and tomorrow's the long ride home…so, we're turnin in. See ya for breakfast.