It was a beautiful warm day in June and I had the day off. As per usually it was spent riding. As the temperature began to climb I decided it was time to take a break and head home and chill in front of the air conditioner until the sun went down. I was eastbound on a local interstate heading toward home when I spotted her.

She was on the side of the road standing next to a brand new Mercedes-Benz that was obviously broke down.

Ever the gentleman, I took the next exit and circled around and headed west. At the first exchange I came to I again exited and looped around and was soon headed back east so I could come up behind her disabled vehicle. I hoped that some Good Samaritan might have stopped and offered assistance before I arrived. No such luck for her as she was still there standing in the sweltering sunlight as I pulled up a few feet away.

Now I was sure that she might run screaming at the sight of this big guy approaching, dressed all in black riding up on a fire engine red Harley, but she didn't.

"Problem?" I asked.

"It just stopped running."

I am not a mechanic but I checked for the obvious things that could stop a car dead. Alas, I was unable to determine the cause of the problem.

"There is a Denny's restaurant not ten minutes from here. If you like I can give you a ride there and you can call your dealership."

Now I didn't think for one instant she would accept my offer as she was clad in a typical ladies business suit with heels, and her skirt seemed shorter and tighter than the other ladies suits I have seen. There must have been a touch of a Harley lady in her because she smiled as she withdrew a scarf from her purse and proceeded to tie her hair back.

After securing her case in the tour pack I lowered the passenger foot boards and she stood there for a moment as if rethinking her decision before she hiked up her skirt to her hips and swung a long slender nylon clad leg over the passenger seat and was soon sitting directly behind me.

"Ever been on a motorcycle before?" I asked.

"No, this is my first time."

I showed her the hand holds and gave her the choice of using them or placing her arms around my waist. Again I was sure she would opt for the hand hold and I was surprised when wrapped her arms around me. As we moved down the road I glanced into my mirror and saw that my rider had a big smile on her face.

We arrived at Denny's and she went straight for the pay phones. Yes, I said pay phones. At this time and date cell phones were non-existent.

I declined a offer of money for my time and settled for coffee and conversation until the tow truck arrived. She told me that she had been out there for about fifteen minutes and about a half a dozen other motorcycle riders had ridden past her. According to her they appeared to be a bunch of older guys wearing Bermuda shorts, sandals and riding those big Japanese motorcycle.

Oh some whistled or shouted some comments on her appearance, but not one of them stopped or even slowed down. When the tow truck finally arrived we stood and thanked me again and as a reward I got a brief kiss and the comment that," Real men ride Harleys."

Yes, I got her phone number. But that's another story.