Red Light

Red means danger. Its the universal non-verbal language. Red lights stop traffic all over the world. It doesn't matter which country you are in. They are used to stop trains, planes and ships when there are indications of danger. Red is the colour of danger and that's why fire trucks, fire extinguishers and fire bells in buildings are red – because they stand-out and are easy to see. They catch your attention especially when they light-up. Thank God for the colour Red. It can be a life-saver. When I was cruising in the fast lane of the Ottawa Queensway doing 120 Kilometers per hour in fairly heavy traffic I saw my red oil light suddenly come on - and I knew I was in trouble.

My reaction was instant. I didn't even think about it. I disengaged my engine from my drive-wheel on my Kawasaki 400cc motorcycle by pulling-in my clutch lever right away and hitting the kill-switch. My only problem now was to maneuver my way across three lanes of traffic to the far shoulder while simply coasting. I dared not engage the clutch again. My right turn signal was flashing continuously until a couple of courteous drivers slowed to let me get to the shoulder and stop. After activating my four-way flashers I asked myself “What on earth do I do now?”

I got off the bike and looked for oil leaking but there were no signs of it. The engine was clean. I double-checked my oil level and it was fine. That was reassuring so the problem had to be a faulty electrical connection leading to the oil light. What else could it be possibly be? I decided to try to start her up promising myself that I would get this problem checked-out at the dealer at the first opportunity. The moment I pressed the started button I knew I'd killed her. I wished I hadn't done that. I heard the most sickening, guttural crunch before one revolution had completed. The engine was dead!

Indeed, the dealer took the motor apart and found that a retainer pin had either broken or vibrated loose and had resulted in substantial internal damage to the engine. He likened this to the pin acting as a blender-blade crunching-up most moving parts it had come into contact with. The warranty on the bike had expired some months earlier and to make things even worse, the Kawasaki parts distribution systems were not as advanced as they are today. I waited an entire summer before I got my bike back. …..Then I sold it!

As they say – every dark cloud has a silver lining. I found my next bike in a farmer's barn near Arnprior, Ontario. She was dirty and covered in bits of straw at the time but she proved to be one of the best motorcycles I had ever owned. She was my 1977 blue and white Triumph Bonneville 750. See “Bonnie the Great Performer” listed in the table of contents under my motorcycle stories blog to read her story.