So here's the deal. My Bro John gave me my first guardian bell to ward off those road gremlins, and I've never forgotten the gesture. And somewhere along the line, someone gave me another bell for the Joker. The deal is that if someone gives you the bell, it's more powerful! And if you buy your own, it's less powerful, or in my case, downright fucking lethal. At least as far as my bike is concerned....
See, I got this great deal on a new bell....two of them, actually.....and they arrived in the mail the other day. So on Sunday, while waiting on Jeff to show up for a ride, I decided to put one of the bells on Big Blue. Yeah, I thought about waiting for someone to give me one, but WTF, I'll just put the one on I bought. Outside I went.
I snooped around looking for a low spot to attach it, but nothing seemed to look just right. No convenient hole in the frame or a mount. But right under the lower triple tree, where the brake lines mount, there was this enticing little spot that looked just perfect. And there was a mile of room between the bell and the fender. On it went. Not low, but low enough.
Jeff shows up, and I give him the other bell, telling him the story about gremlins, etc. Away we go. It's fun so far, right? All smiles.
I go exactly 1/4 mile and then turn into a gas station to fill up. BANG! There's a terrific noise as I hit the driveway transition into the station parking lot!!! I stopped at the gas pump, got off, and walked around looking for whatever made that damn noise.
Whoa! I couldn't believe it! That bell had frickin' near punched a hole clear through my Road King's front fender. And if that wasn't bad enough, the damn bell wasn't even broken. Just a little ding in the side.
And for those who haven't heard the tale about the Good Luck bell, here it is, shamelessly stolen from this page where you can order one. For me. LOL
The Legend of the Guardian BellMany years ago, on a cold December night, a crusty old biker was returning from a trip to Mexico with his saddlebags filled with toys and other assorted trinkets for the kids at a group home near where he worked.
Well about 40 miles north of the border, in the high desert, lurked a small group of notorious little critters known as road gremlins. You know, the ones who always leave little obstacles like, one shoe, boards, and pieces of old tires on the road, and also dig those dreaded potholes for bikers to run over and crash, thus giving the road gremlins a chance to rejoice over their acts of evil.