Rumble Seat Ride

On my roadster’s last day with a four-banger, I was able to check the final box: riding in the rumble seat. As far as I know, I had never sat in a rumble seat before, let alone ridden in one. But that all changed at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge—San Francisco side—on a sunny Sunday in June.

Let me set the scene. It’s just after 11 a.m. The air is fresh and there’s a slight breeze coming off the Pacific. Waves crash near Fort Point. My friends are all meeting up for a motorcycle ride up the coast. My knee hasn’t fully healed, so I decide to take the roadster, hang out, and then hang back.

One by one, the bikes start rolling in. Shovelheads, Sportsters, and other hand-built machines. Long forks, old chrome, loud pipes. The roadster looks right at home among the bikes. The bridge provides the perfect backdrop. Nobody is in any particular rush, which makes it even better.

We catch up, swapping stories from the previous day’s show and everyone’s morning adventures. As we wait for the last of the riders, I show my friend Jason the current state of the A. “Later today, it all comes apart,” I said.

“You know, there’s one thing I never got to do,” I added. “I never got to ride in the rumble seat.” He looked at me and said, “How about now?”

Decklid open. Using the rear tire as a step stool, I plunked down on the rear crossmember, resting my back against the cool metal decklid. Jason had a ’banger-powered Model T coupe, so no driving lessons were required.

35mm shot by Yama Azim

Clutch in. Transmission in first. He steps on the gas. Just like that, we were on our way as the crowd of friends looked on.

Picking up speed, I couldn’t stop smiling. I laughed as we passed confused tourists, and I waved at cyclists heading in the other direction. I watched the tires roll and listened to the exhaust crackle. “This is true luxury,” I said to myself. “This is rumble seat riding!”

Have you ever ridden in a rumble seat? Let’s hear about it!

—Joey Ukrop