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. |