THE MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPLAINED

Have you ever sat on the side of the road with another rider with a broken down motorcycle because of some small thing either came loose or fell off? It might be a small interruption in a day's ride, or the beginning of an adventure in roadside repair.

Whoever owns the break down, usually makes a comment like, "I should have checked that, or I know it was tight, I tightened it! I can't figure out how that could have happened!" I would be willing to bet, you blamed vibration, phases of the moon, poor manufacturing, or some other reason that made sense to you.

Have you ever wondered why motorcycles suffer all those little annoying breakdowns, nuts and bolts that come loose, little chrome things falling off, adjustments becoming unadjusted and perfectly good parts like tires, brake pads, batteries, wearing out after you checked them before leaving home?

Who is that sneaks into your garage and readjusts settings on everything possible? I know someone or thing changed all my preset rock radio stations, to classical and country on my Electra Glide, and something wore out a perfectly good tire in thirty miles, because it was good when I left the house that morning.

Yea, you've known others, who have had unexplained stuff happen to their motorcycles too! For a long time I thought it was the Lock-tite people with some kind of world wide plan to force innocent motorcyclists to buy their product. But the Lock-tite people don't make tires or brake pads and shoes, or batteries for that matter.

A couple of fighter pilots I know told me about Gremlins. They would sneak aboard aircraft and damage equipment and create havoc with anything they could. A perfectly good airplane could sit over night, and the next morning it would be down for all kinds of repairs.

Typical Gremlin, according to Hollywood.....

Gremlins have been around since WWII. Allot of aircraft during the war, for no apparent reason, would fail to start or run, or run so bad it would force the crews to ground the plane. I believe this is the reason behind the Bermuda Triangle anomalies.

This is documented; they where described as little green guys about foot and half tall with pointed ears. Walt Disney of all people drew up images from reports he had received from ground crews and pilots. Of course he had some fun with them and like always he made them out to be lovable fun little guys, which was far from the truth.

I told my pilot friends about the unexplained things that have happened to my motorcycle, and they all agreed it was possible for it to be the work of Gremlins.

This gremlin thing has really got me bugged. I was talking to my boss and he said it sounds like the work of the little blue guys. He said blue guys have plagued the shipyard where we work, for years.

They sneak into the shipyard at night, move tools, and even undo work. He explained how he had heard workers and supervisors discussing how work, which was done, had somehow not been done or it was undone by some mysterious method. My boss learned of them when he was an apprentice, strange things would happen to his class work and test papers. Wrong answers would appear on his papers when he knew he had written the correct answer.

Disney's WWII Gremlins at work.

I figured he might have something there. After all, my tools sometimes disappear and then suddenly reappear while I'm working. Blue guys sounded allot like gremlins to me.

Well, I decided to investigate this phenomenon further and seek expert help. I called the FBI, and asked to speak with Agent Fox Moulder of the X Files. I knew this gremlin problem would qualify as an X File, and that he and the very good-looking Agent Dana Scully would come here to investigate this phenomenon.

Well the X Files must be some kind of special government super top secret, because the agent I spoke with on the phone denied knowing any agents Moulder or Scully. When I asked to speak with anyone in the X Files section, there was a long pause, which ended with the person on the phone laughing. I hung up. What's the matter with the FBI? Aren't they at all concerned about finding out the truth, or are they only worrying about looking good on TV?

If the federal government wasn't going to help I would have to do this my self. Lack of professional help wasn't going to stop me. I thought, with a video camera I could document this phenomenon. I could give or sell it to the Daily Press, or the Virginia Pilot, and then the whole world would know the truth. Maybe get rich or at least famous, I could see a Noble Prize in my future or at least a guest spot on the Jay Leno Show or maybe Jerry Springer.

FBI Agents Dana Scully and Fox Moulder from the X- Files Section

There was only one flaw in my plan, I don't own a video camera. I went to the local photo shop to rent one. When I told the clerk what I had in mind he began to act funny; he smiled more than before and snickered allot. At first I thought he was suffering form some form of flu or cold thing, because he kept retching and grabbing his face covering his mouth and nose. He seemed a bit hesitant about renting me the video camera.

After wiping the tears from his eyes he suggested that I use one of the new disposable, one-time use cameras. You've seen them; they're made out of a cardboard box, with a lens and loaded with film inside. Once you've taken all the pictures you just take the whole thing back and they rip open the flimsy box, remove the film and develop it. I thought this over and because it's sealed, no one could claim the film was doctored and the pictures are a hoax. I left with neat little box and some flashcubes. I felt good now and sure I was on the right track to make history.

The barn where my motorcycles are kept is not that large, no heat, no insulation and no place for me to hide. In Africa, hunters build blinds and wait for hours for big game to come to them. Native Americans would pull a buffalo hide over themselves and sneak into the herd where they could get close and make their arrows count. I figured some deception might be the trick so I would pull a motorcycle cover over me. I would pretend to be a motorcycle and lure a blue or green gremlin in to be photographed while in the act of sabotage.

The weekend was coming and I would execute my plan then. After all it shouldn't take more than an hour or so.

After two nights standing bent over, with the cover pulled over me, and peering out through the tiny little air vent holes, nothing. No sightings. No noises, except for the cracking sound from my back when I tried to stand upright.

It was time to revise the plan.

My wife, who after 33 years of marriage, was convinced I needed some help. I thought so too. I would call some friends in to help. She said that wasn't the kind of help she was thinking of.

Click on thumbnail above.... The barn, a 10 X 12 steel shed, my Sportster and Electra Glide both come in at night.

What else could she be thinking; this was important research which is going to make history.

It's amazing how a little thing like staying up all night with out heat in 20-degree temperatures shows you how many friends you have. Their responses where mostly all the same, "Are your for real?" They also questioned my intelligence, and my sanity, not to mention the language that was used, stuff that would make the most harden outlaw biker or sailor blush.

Well it has to be done.

Plan B, I would lie on the workbench with the motorcycle cover over me. I would look like parts. I always cover parts when I leave them on the bench over night. At least my back wouldn't hurt.

Friday night it was time to put my new plan into action. I crawled up on the workbench pulled the cover over me and waited.

Sometime around 2 am I was awakened by a loud noise. My head was torn free from the vise I was using for a pillow with a searing pain, as I was pulled off the workbench still clutching my camera. My sudden stop with the floor triggered the flash, blinding me. Staggering around I fell over my motorcycle jack hitting my head on the compressor tank. After Impact with the tank, my cat like reflexes caused me to jump straight up. It was at this time I slammed the back of my head on the bench over the compressor.

As my eyes readjusted from the flash and the pain, I looked around through tear filled eyes carefully and found nothing had changed. I checked the sliding doors to the shed to make sure no one or thing had made it's way in or out, it was still locked with the C-clamp.

Actually, it was frozen, this I discovered when I needed to answer the call of nature and couldn't get out. My attempts to remove the C-clamp while doing the pee pee dance where to no avail. Worst of all I was out of matches to light the kerosene heater.

Saturday morning my wife in company with my friend Lyle brought some matches and pushed them through the crack in the door. I was able to light my propane torch and free the clamp from the door.

After seeing the red impression on the side of my face, the bruises on my forehead and shin, and the lump on the back of my head and the frozen wet stain on my trouser leg, though tears of laughter they were both sure I needed more than a camera.

She said it was hard to believe anything green or blue a foot and a half tall, could pull me off the workbench, when she couldn't get me to roll over at night to stop snoring!

As I stood there looking like I had a bad night at Wrestlemaina with impressions on my ear and the side of my face from resting my head on the bench vice all night. My ear, which had frozen to the vice during the night prior to the gremlin pulling me off the work bench, was hurting like hell. So, I decided to wait until summer or at least warmer weather to continue my investigations.

I just couldn't quit now; I had gone too far and I knew I was on to something and sooner or later I would have the proof I needed. I still think if I was a tad faster that night I would have gotten the photograph of one of those gremlins.

Despite my presence and constant vigilance some strange things did happen, my rear axle nut had come loose and the battery was dead, and the bikes taillight lens was lying on the floor next to my crushed disposable camera with the burnt flash cube. Sneaky those Blue Guys... or was it Gremlins?

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