Cover of the May 2019 issue of Rider magazine.

After Clement Salvadori mentioned key fobs in his “Stupid Things” (Road Tales) story in the May issue, I recalled my own experience with motorcycle key fobs a couple of years ago.

I’d just hopped off I-70 at Salina, Utah after having put 130 miles? worth of gas through my ’85 V65 Sabre, which is usually good for 180 miles or so, then it starts getting thirsty. Just after exiting, I noticed an Indian parked on the shoulder of the opposite ramp, and a figure walking along not far away, helmet in hand, which is never a good sign. Not one to leave a fellow biker stranded, I motored up next to him and asked, “Out of gas"” He looked at me blankly for a moment and then started gesturing wildly while talking a mile a minute in a language that I was almost sure was English, but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying. “Whoa,” I exclaimed, pulling my helmet off. “Slow down partner. Say that again, reeeal slow.” After a few much slower words, I realized that he actually was speaking English, but real English, as in “from across the Atlantic Ocean English,” and slowly I learned the language as I got the drift of his dilemma. 
He and his buddy were on rented Indians out of Las Vegas, on the last couple days of a ten-day trip. They’d pulled off to the side of the Interstate to talk for a moment, then decided to trade bikes for awhile. Fell...