West 2007
 
 

Day 11

September 22

 
 

There's a Denny's on the way out, so I figure it is a pretty safe choice for breakfast .As I load up the SweetTreat, there's a couple next door doing doing the same to their car. I wish them a good morning and they kind of smile and that's about it. They finish up and then make a quick getaway. I check out and and make the short ride to Denny's and it turns out to be one of the better ones that I've ever been in. The manager is out and about making sure things are going as they should and the customers are happy. After I get seated in my booth, I notice that the couple that was checking out next door is seated in the booth next to mine. I tell them -

"Well, I'm not following y'all, honest"

They both laugh. It turns out that they are from Germany on vacation and are headed to Moab. I share some tips and hints on Moab about places to eat and stay that I picked up on my several trips to the area. They thank me for the information, then the man says

"We've noticed there are not may BMWs or Mercedes to rent over here - just cheap Japanese vehicles."

"You know, I never thought about it but you're right. You might find this interesting - the motorcycle I'm riding is Japanese, but it was designed in Germany from what I've been told."

They look a bit surprised and nod their heads.

"This particular model is much more popular over in Europe than it is here in the States" I add.

My breakfast shows up so I leave them to their knitting and wish them a safe journey. I polish it off pretty quickly, then go out to the bike. There's still some dark clouds but nothing like what I was in yesterday.

 
 
 
  So I suit up and get back after the slab. Not much romance in riding I40 all day other than it sure beats working. I am left to my thoughts and occasionally looking out over the landscape. I can't help but notice that out here in the flats, the telephone poles look like a single file of soldiers, marching in an endless line beyond the horizon.  
 
 
  Every now and then, some unusual wildlife shows up alongside the interstate. I'm really glad that I'm on a full liter sport and tour machine when I see this one. He looks like he could give me a pretty good run for my money.  
 
 
  The terrain does vary, from endless fields to rugged rock formations, but you begin to lose perspective of actually where you are. It's just a bit like sitting in a recliner and watching the world go by your window - except in my case, I'm the one going by and it's the world that's standing still.  
 
 
  To give myself a break, I will stop every now and then to take a picture of something that strikes my fancy. The irony of this shot is old windmill doing it's job while on the far distance hill the new improved version is doing something all together different. They both use the same principle but to achieve a different output.  
 
 
 

I finally make my last gas stop in Amarillo, knowing my next stop will be at another Motel 6 in Elk City, Oklahoma. Looks like I should easy be there in less than two hours with plenty of daylight. I'm back on I40 quickly, but before long I find that the road has other ideas. I notice the bike seems like it is losing power and the back end begins to wiggle a bit. I'm on one of those long deserted sections of I40 in Texas but I manage to get the SweetTreat off on the right shoulder. I'm sure in a fine pickle now because the shoulder of the road slopes downward away from the roadbed. I can't use my sidestand to get off the bike to see what's wrong. I rock the SweetTreat back and forth and realize that my back tire is completely flat. My only option is to try to maneuver the bike to sit perpendicular to the roadbed, with nose uphill. With a flat rear tire, this will be no simple task. I finally get it done with much grunting and sweating. The sidestand will still not work so I'm in a fine predicament. I try to get SweetTreat up on the centerstand, but the rear tire is so flat, that I do not have the strength to do it. What am I going to do at this point? I've got to get it on the centerstand or else I'll be here all night holding it up. So I decide that I will have to do the saddlebag ballet. I carefully dismount on the right side, holding the bike as steady as I can and remove the right saddlebag. At this point I am very thankful for real long arms. Then I climb back on the bike, carefully get off on the left side, and remove the left saddlebag while trying to keep the bike from falling over. Then with what strength I have left and a mighty yell, I manage to heave the lighter bike up on the center stand. I make a mental note that this not something I ever want to repeat. While I'm doing all of this, two riders on Harleys whiz by, wave and take a long look. I break out my doctor's bag, as I affectionately call it, which has tire plugging gear and a small air compressor. Then it hits me - I've about used all of my tire plugs fixing other people's tires on the road and I have not replenished my stock. About the time I start to kick myself, the two Harley riders have come back on a side road and ask me -

"Do you need anything? Can we help you at all?" the man asks with his wife standing beside him.

"Well, I sure could use some of those tire plugs we call gummy worms. I'm about out"

He says "No problem, there's truck stop just up at the next exit. We'll see what we can do."

"Well, I'm going to try plug it. If I'm successful, I'll start riding that way real slow, so keep an eye out for me."

"We'll do it" and they're off in a flash.

I rummage around in my bag and find three plugs. The hole is a pretty big one so I know that'll I need at least two. I cement up the first one, push it in the hole and it goes all the way in and disappears. I tell myself -

"All right you big dummy, don't blow the next one or you'll be sitting still for a while."

I regroup, cement the next one and use all the care that I can muster. It goes in and holds, so I breathe a sigh of relief and prep the next plug. This will be tricky because I don't want to push the other one out of the hole, but I need to get this in the hole also. With a prayer and a pause, I manage to gently insert the second plug with no miscue. Now comes the moment of truth concerning the whole affair - will it hold any air at all? I connect the pump, start the bike and let it do it's thing. It takes a while with the small pump, but the tire slowly inflates. With much trepidation, I give the plugs the old spit test to see if I have any leaks. Much to my grateful surprise, there's no spit bubbles to be seen. I pack up my bag, put the saddlebags back on, suit up, then gingerly guide the SweetTreat back out onto the interstate. I move slowly with my 4-way flashers on, hoping the heat from the tire rolling will more firmly cure the cement and plugs. I see the Harley rides coming back down the side road, so I pull over and we walk toward each other until we meet in the grass.

"All they had was complete kits. Is this what you need?" he asks me.

"Well, all I really need is the worms. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing man. I've been meaning to get me a plugging kit, and you just convinced me to do it" he says with a grin.

I thankfully take some more of the worms to replenish my supply, hoping I won't need them.

"Well thanks again for all of your trouble. I hope you never have to use the kit."

We part company with a wave, and he heads west and I head back east on I40. I still proceed cautiously until I feel confident that the tire is not going to deinflate instantly. The sun is sinking quickly now, but I've got to make it to Elk City so I just keep rolling along.

 
 
 
 

Having a back rear tire suddenly go flat is not that big of a deal, but the front one is a whole other story. I've been through that before and it will make you clean your trousers out afterwards if you don't drop the bike. It seems as if I'm never going to make it to Elk City, but I figure every mile I ride is one less mile between me and the motel. Finally I ease into the Motel Six parking lot and am I ever relieved. At least I can get a good night's sleep before I have to fuss with it in the morning. There's a worn out restaurant next door whose name is "Home Cooking Restaurant" so I wander over for a late supper after I unload the bike. The food is good, the service is good, but the place looks like it's about to fall down. But at this stage, it really doesn't matter cause I am where I'm supposed to be. I finish and pay then stroll back across the littered parking lot to my room. The last thing I remember is saying to myself,

"I guess I'll just check it in the morning and see if the tire is still holding."

After that, there's nothing but a loud, tired rumble coming out of my room.