It seems I get questioned about the legendary "Napkin of Doom" each year as the West Coast Regional Meet comes around so I thought I'd spare myself the endless, embarrassing re-telling of the story and just put it down here once and for all.
It was WCRM I. It was Saturday morning and everyone was getting together for breakfast at Denny's on the Riverwalk. It was our first year of doing this so most of us were still pretty much strangers to one another. It was getting late in the morning, 10 or so and everyone seemed to be endlessly fiddling with their bikes in the parking lot. Lots of talking, looking, standing around.
I was getting antsy to get moving (our group was doing the Lost Coast Loop that year) and while I'm not generally the "leader" sort I felt some responsibility being the "local guy" to get things moving. So I jumped on my nasty-black Triumph Sprint Sport, fired her up and backed around to head out figuring others may take the hint and follow suit. It worked pretty well. Apparently others were anxious to get on the road too and 15 or 20 riders followed me. As we approached the entrance to the parking lot with me in the lead a little old lady (she may or may not have been using a cane...stories vary) holding the hand of a wee small child (he may or may not have had a limp) stepped out directly in front of me. I grabbed all the breaks I could and as luck would have it my front tire was sitting directly on someone's discarded napkin! The front end washed out on me and I did the slow motion fall to the asphalt. I stepped off the bike as it fell, smashing the left-hand turn signal and started pouring gas all over the ground as it continued to run. I hit the kill switch and looked back at the group behind me expecting help. Instead all 20 to 30 of my fellow ST.Netter's were digging in their tank bags and dragging out their cameras to record the action.
Finally Shizoku (Dave) came to my rescue. We righted my bike and someone (I think it was denydog) tossed Dave a roll of duct tape to patch up my turn signal.
We went on to have a glorious ride. Of course every time I would subsequently park my bike somewhere at an ST.N function for the next few years I would find fake-NOD's under my tires...sigh.
Months later I was having a perfectly miserable day at work and returned home hot, worn out and tired of life. Becky told me that there had been a package delivered for me. It turned out that ksann (Ken) had saved the Napkin of Doom, had everyone at dinner that Saturday night at the brewery had signed it. He duct taped it to some backing and had it framed for me. It restored my faith in humanity and I shall be forever grateful.
The Napkin of Doom now hangs in a place of honor in my computer room and all are welcome to view this little bit of ST.N history at the barbecue.
See you there!
