Good/Bad Luck On the Way Home

After 4 days of hanging with the family (which I'll post about, later), I loaded up and headed home. Once again, the weather was nice, and the bike was running fine.

About 6 hours after leaving my parents' place, I was in Wentzville, Mo, just west of St. Louis. I pulled into a QT Mart, and filled up with gas, then went inside to use the bathroom and buy a drink. As I walked out, I noticed that the rear tire on the bike looked a little odd.

I had debated with myself about the tires before leaving Denver, since the rear tire was showing some wear. I finally decided that it looked like it would make the trip, and I'd rather wait until I got home to replace it. Well, I should have replaced it, I suppose.

The odd look of the tire was due to a strip of steel belt showing through the rubber. I could see a portion of the belt about a quarter-inch wide and 8 inches long. So, back into the QT to use the phone book.

After a couple of calls, I finally saw the Yellow Pages ad for Donelson Cycles, in St. Ann, about 30 miles east of where I was.

I called them up, and told the lady who answered the phone what was going on. She told me to come on down, and they'd get me a tire mounted up ASAP.

Long story short, I babied my poor old tire back to St. Ann, got a new one, and was back on the road in about about 2 hours. With the added 60 miles of riding, the tire cost me 3 hours of daylight.

So, rather than riding until 8:00, as I planned, I ended up riding through until 11:30, when I finally stopped in Junction City, Kansas, and spent the night in the biggest, emptiest motel room I've ever been in.

I checked in, and asked for a non-smoking room. The only one available was on the 3rd floor, and it was $5.00 extra because it was a "large room", according to the desk clerk.

That was fine with me, so I paid, and unloaded my bike, then carried my stuff upstairs. As I opened up the door, I thought that the hours on the road had affected my ability to judge distances.

The room had a couch, a king-sized bed with side tables, a small coffee table and a dresser with a TV on it. Those six pieces of furniture were in a room that measured about 25 feet by 20 feet. The square footage of that room was close to the same as that of my house! You could have set up a game of croquet on the carpet between the bed and the TV.

Took a shower, and finally got to bed at 12:30. At 5:30, I was back on the motorcycle heading west. I figured that, if all went well, I might be home by 1:00 or 2:00 PM.

If all went well..

About 4 hours later, I was looking for a gas station to make my second gas stop of the morning. (I stop every 100 to 150 miles to fill up with gas and stretch out a bit.) I saw a Sinclair station, and pulled off of the Interstate. After removing my helmet and gloves, pulling the tank bag off of the bike and opening the gas cap, I saw that the station only had Regular gas. The Trident really requires Premium, so I put everything back on, and headed across the Interstate to a Shell station.

The Shell station had Premium, but the pumps decided to not work just as I started filling up. I got 8 cents worth (not a lot of gas, by the way). So, after trying two other pumps, at the urging of the station clerk, I gave up and headed on down the road.

I stopped at another Sinclair (Regular only), and pulled back onto the road, once again, without filling up.

As I rode, I noticed that I had a headwind, blowing at an angle across the front of the bike. It was actually making it hard to steer the bike. So hard, in fact, that it felt almost like...Dammit! I had a flat on the front wheel!

A BP station sat off to the left of the next exit, so I pulled off, and rolled into the station parking lot. There, I saw the "Out Of Business" sign on the wall.

Unsure of what to do next, I inspected the tire and found what I figured to be the hole where a nail had penetrated it. Probably happened at one of the Sinclair stations, I suppose.

I marked the rim with a Sharpie, so that I could easily relocate the hole, and looked around the abandoned gas station. I finally spotted a hand-written notice that read

"Fuel Available 24 hours 1/2 Mile North, Credit Cards Accepted"

I looked north, across the Interstate, and I could see a group of buildings, but no gas station sign.

"What the hell?" I thought, "Might as well see what's there."

So, I started the bike, turned on the emergency flashers, and crept up the road at about 5 mph, rolling on the flat tire. The bead was holding, so I was hoping it would work out.

It did, and I pulled up to the "24 Hour Fuel" stop, the local Farmer's Co-Op. As I pulled up to the building, there was a fellow in the service bay fixing a flat on a pickup truck.

"Think you could patch my motorcycle tire?" I asked.

"Don't see why not."

Ten minutes, and five dollars(!), later, I was on the road again. I bought a gallon of fuel (Regular) to get to the next town where, I was told, there was a station with Premium fuel.

I was a bit nervous riding on a plugged tire, for about the first 100 miles, then I just figured it was going to hold and I quit worrying about it.

I rolled into my driveway at 3:00 PM, unloaded the bike, and took a nap.

I'm always amused at how my luck seems to run. Was it bad luck to wear through my tire on the way home, or good luck to do it near a shop which could replace it quickly?

Was it bad luck to have a flat on the front tire, or good luck that a. it wasn't my brand-new rear tire that picked up the nail, b. I didn't dump the bike at 80 mph on the Interstate when the tire deflated, c. I pulled off at an exit where a tire repair was available almost immediately?

Ah, well. Maybe luck is like Karma: It's neither bad nor good, it just is.

Either way, I'm satisfied with mine. It keeps things interesting.

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