Had a little trouble that turned into a struggle…..

Okay, I’m at a fork in the road, one way goes through the country to the border, the other, goes along the coast to Tijuana, on this route lives Super Hunky.  I wrote Hunky and begged an audience with him.  You all remember Super Hunky from Dirt Bike Magazine?  Yep I was going to visit him, seek some wisdom.

I had tried to visit Ed Hertfelder on the way down, but he had a NRA meeting with dinner included.  I think it was more the free meal than the NRA meeting, but any how I missed him, too bad, I would have enjoyed meeting the Icon of the last page.

Hunky replied, said give him a call in the morning and he would give me directions.  This plan is fine in the US where I know how to use the phone, but I spent over an hour trying to locate a phone shop where they could help me call.  My cell phone showed a signal but the operator spoke to me in Spanish so I have no idea what she was telling me.  I found an Internet shop and wrote Hunky again.  In the mean time Clipper had written me back and gave me rough directions from memory of how to get to the Hunky compound.

I rode the coast high way for miles.  30 million people live along here with even more stop lights and speed bumps.  Every change I got I would stop and call.  It always seemed to be on the opposite side of the road, then just the act of getting on and off my bike is hard.  It is very tall, and with the luggage strapped on you have to step over not swing around to get on.   Then helmet, goggles, gloves, ear plugs, stopping was no easy manner.  No answer was the reply on the phone.  Back on the bike, U turn and moving North.

I finally found Hunkys street and wandered around in his neighborhood for a while, I guess I was looking for the Great Yellow Dirt Bike Truck to be parked in his drive.  More calls, more e-mails, more traffic.  No Hunky.  So I gave up and headed East, now I had to ride directly through Tijuana traffic and onto the Tecate border crossing.  I spent 3 or 4 hours trying to find Hunky.  When I got home, I had an e-mail from him.  He had forgotten he had to go some where and didn’t get home till after dark…….

The border was easy, no line, just cruise on through and now I’m in California.  Back to riding by the rules, speed limits, no passing through towns, no passing on the right through the parking lots, ugh, I hated it already.  Then I pulled up to the gas station and all three grades were over 3 dollars a gallon!  I had been used to buying it by the liter and having no idea how much it cost.  So I bought a dollars worth and hoped it would be cheaper down the road, it was but by just a little.

So I’m back in the USA!  Yea! Life will be good and easy now, just a few more miles and I’ll be home.  Wrong….  I stopped in Indio California and got a room for the night.  The next morning  I cut across Joshua Tree National Park.  Ugg, the Park Service,  More rules and regulations.  I did not touch my feet down once I entered the park.  Once out of the park I cut across the Mojave Desert.  No traffic here, maybe 3 motor homes in an hour.  I’m dropping down into Baker California which is there because the Interstate cuts through it.  Problem, the chain broke and left me free wheeling across the desert floor.  I walked back and picked up the chain, more bad news, it had broken a side plate, not just a failed master link.  Now what am I going to do?  You need a grinder and tools to fix this.  Well, I must be living right, because before I could walk back to the bike a truck from the rail road pulled up and the driver said:  “Yea!  I got a grinder!”

It was like this was his favorite tool too,  I could not have asked for a more popular tool.  So the chain was cut and a new master link installed, with in 20 minutes of coasting to a stop I was back on the road.  Not bad considering my location.  I went to Baker and asked around, the nearest shop was in Barstow, 60 miles west.  I took off.

The shop I went to was Barstow Motorcycle Center.  The parts guy was super nice and friendly and helpful.  He told me if he I took my chain up to the service center they would cut it for me up there.  How one facet of the business can do such a good job and another do such a poor job, is beyond me.  Why you would become a motorcycle mechanic if you didn’t love motorcycles and motorcyclists is beyond me.  I got my chain cut, but the guy who did it got on the same list Super Hunky put him self on.

Back on the road,  up through Death Valley, it was 3pm I had 300 miles on the odometer, I felt good, it was warm and nice out, I was headed home.  I stopped for gas once I crossed the Nevada border.  It felt good to be of of California.  There was a guy there with his custom Harley on the trailer.  Me I was filthy, covered with bugs and dirt, I was pumping gas as fast as I could, I was going home. He was standing there pumping gas looking at me and I just had to do it, I asked him:

“Whats a matter with it?

I don’t even remember what he said, I was laughing to my self, I’m so funny.

I was heading North and climbing in elevation.  It kept getting colder and when I got to Tonapah at 6,000 feet I was freezing!  I had to get a room, I asked the lady, how cold is it?  37* with a wind chill of 6*.  No wonder I was freezing!  So I turned the heat up all the way and hid under the blankets trying to warm up.

The next morning once the sun was firmly up, I took off again, it was still cold but I had on every bit of clothing in my possession, 8 shirts and 2 coats, 4 pairs of pants and winter gloves.  My hands were the only thing really cold, so I stopped and bought some zip lock baggies and stuck my hands in them, they did the trick and I was back on it.  I’m going home and I’m going to make it today!

Wrong.  About 55 miles North of Tonopah, the bike blew a rear tire and jumped sideways at 80mph, it took all my sweet skills to keep from crashing.  It would run sideways in one direction then swap to the other side, I can’t just grab the brakes, I have to slow slowly and finally came to stop near a intersection with a big rock.  I started wrestling the bike up on the rock but just could not do it my self, so I was going to flag down a passerby.  Problem was they were all old ladies coming home from taking their husbands to work at the mine.  Eventually my new hero Jack Hays stopped.  He was a mechanic up at the mine and it was his day off, he had been to the dump.  I begged him to help get the bike up on the rock, no problem, he was happy to help.

The tire reluctantly came apart, it was still quite cold out and with my helper, I was trying to hurry the tire change, that never makes it easier.  So I got it apart and was feeling around inside for a nail or something and found a tiny burr.  I could not even see it, I could just feel it, so I ground it off using the screw driver and was going to run with it.  Jack, being a true mechanic wanted to do a better job.  So he looked at it and  we finally pushed it out from the inside.  It was a staple.  Not a construction staple, but an office type of staple that had  pushed through the tire and slowly poked a hole in the tube.  It would have done it again if Jack had not insisted on doing a better job than I was ready to do.

Back on the road, now I’m just East of Austin Nevada and the GPS says turn right and go through Grassy Valley.  99 miles to the interstate and my next turn.  Oh boy, it was a gravel road, a nice wide one, well maintained and smooth, but with the problems of the chain and tire fresh in my mind, it was a nerve racking 99 miles.  I did not see another car in that 99 miles.  One house, but it looked abandoned.

It had started to snow by now and I had to cross a pass over the mountain to get to Elko and my next turn North.  When the snow started covering my goggle lenses and the shivering took hold, I gave up.  I have nothing to prove.  I have ridden a bike in cold conditions to know it is not fun.  So I pulled off at the first exit, walked into the Burger King and the first guy sitting there asked me if my bike was a 950.

“No it’s a 640.”

“Pretty cold out there isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, I give up, I’m going to call home and have some one come get me. Unless you have a truck and are going to Boise.”

Well the first guy didn’t have a truck but the guy sitting next to him did.

“Yes, I have a truck and I’m gong to Boise.”

“Well can you take me with you?”

“Sure.”

So we loaded my bike on the back of his semi trailer, I jumped in the passenger door and we took off for the last 270 miles of my adventure.  Mark Kimber was his name and we had an enjoyable ride, I was telling him of my journey and he brought me to a loading dock with in half a mile of my home.  I’m almost there….

Well 3 blocks from home I sense lights behind me and check the mirror, COPS!  I’ve ridden over 10,000 miles and I’m 3 blocks from home and the cops get me.  No tail light.  Will it ever end?  Will I ever make it home?  He asked me where I was going, I could not remember the cross streets of my own home, I just told him I was going to the liquor store.  Always a good land mark when delirious with exhaustion and dealing with the cops.

So I finally made it home.  I’m exhausted, the cold, the wind, the stress of the bike failing, the 50 days on a bike have finally caught up with me.  I’m going to take a nap.

I’ll write another posting here in a couple of days so check back one more time, but for now, I’m at home in my tie dyed robe, taking naps and trying to adjust to real life again.

I’ll talk to you here again soon, and watch for the next Trail Rider, Paul wants an article by tomorrow for next months magazine.  You will want to subscribe now so you get the next issue.  Yes I have many tales to tell I did not share here.  Once I can get back and look back over the trip, pick out the high points a whole new story will come out.

I got word from Chuck, he made it back to Vegas, he said he was tired and sore, trying to become a human again from a rider.  He wants to write a report soon, so check back here for it too.

For now I’ve got to take a nap.  I would love to hear from every one, I hope you have enjoyed this trip.  I’ll get my slides developed soon and have a slide party to show them off.  If any of you have a motorcycle club and have an event that needs some entertainment, a slide show might be a good way to go, and yes, I work cheap.

Good night every body, it is good to be home.
Charlie