Here's another couple gems from the early days of my RGA Jota. (Which is still for sale, BTW!)
Before I left Portland Maine to ride across the USA to San Francisco I decided to take a short ride around town without my helmet. (!) Maine has no helmet law, or it didn't in 1994 anyway, and I had never ridden without a helmet. Gotta check that off the list, I guess. (Not a fan. Can't remember riding without a helmet ever since.)
I caught up to another bike at a red light and looked over to say hi to the other rider, when I looked down at his tank and saw "MV Agusta". Seriously? How often does a random Laverda rider in Portland, Maine, or anywhere else in North America just happen to roll up next to an MV Agusta?!? (We weren't even in Augusta, Maine!)
A week later I set out on my odyssey to California and was just over the Vermont state line on Highway 9, about to take a short southbound hop on Interstate 91 to rejoin the Vermont section of 9 down by Brattleboro. Waiting for the light to change, what rolls past me going north but a 1200 Mirage. At this point in my Laverda career, I had never seen another Laverda moving under its own power, and never seen another triple at all. I saw the guy take the northbound ramp and decided to detour my cross country trip (Day 1, first side trip!) and chase him down. (Now if only this damned light will turn green before he gets to Canada!)
As I caught up to him what do I see but a California plate. Well, I'd been anxious about taking a bike from a small European country on a 3000 mile trip, but this seemed to prove the point. I made some spastic hand signals that I guess conveyed my desire to talk and we pulled off the freeway fro a chat. It was his third trip across the continent and best of all he gave me Lance Weil's contact information (1-800-LAVERDA, duh) so I could have a source of parts out there in the West.
On the other end (21 days later) I rode in to San Francisco and had arranged to meet a friend at a bar called Zeitgeist that was conveniently both a motorcycle bar and right at the bottom of the off ramp. It was kind of a scuzzy neighborhood, and as I stood there looking at my luggage, and the Zeitgeist, and back at the luggage wondering if I should carry it all in with me a nice man from the motorcycle shop next door (Don from Scuderia West) came over and said, "Hey, is that a Laverda?"
"Yes, I just rode it here from Portland, Maine."
"I'm from Keene, New Hampshire; I have six of those here in my motorcycle shop! Come on in!"
"Can I bring my luggage?"
"Sure!"
"Can I use your phone?"
"Yep!"
So, having never seen more than 2 Laverdas in the same place, having only put my feet on San Francisco soil for 3 minutes in my whole life, I found myself in a shop full of Laverdas, talking to THE Laverda Guy in Northern California.
They say you meet the nicest people on a Honda, but if they're any nicer than the people I meet on my Laverda I think I'd be tempted to punch them in the face.