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jhaake
 Standard Member
117 Posts
Marshallville, Ohio
USA
Suzuki
V-Strom DL650
Peer Review:
1
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 Posted - 11/06/2009 : 2:33 PM
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I thought I'd share this most recent of my adventures with all of you, enjoy (caution: I'm quite unkind to small towns).
Also note this is how I wrote it up for my co-workers (I was taking up way too much work time telling and re-telling the story of my one-day vacation.
_______
This season is only my second season of motorcycling, I took the BRC (beginner rider course) just last summer.
Tuesday two weeks ago I looked at the weather report and saw that the next day was going to be wonderful. I asked ______ (my manager) for time off on short notice and got it (yes!!).
I was going to ride!!! Pulled into the nearest gas station to top-off my Suzuki V-Strom DL650's tank. Put the kickstand down and went to get off the bike ... Oops -- kickstand wasn't down all the way. Thought I could stop the fall but couldn't (just made it slow-motion for all observers). In the process of falling I pulled the nozzle right out of the pump and there I was splayed out on the cement with the gas hose. Only one small piece of damage -- broken front left turn signal light, Ugh, $30 in parts and a lot of labor to get a new one.
I wasn't about to let a little bad omen deter my day of motorcycle bliss -- off I went.
Highway 43, Highway 39, wonderful curves, nice highways, beautiful bliss -- wound up in West Virginia enjoying some unfamiliar roads and working my way down to Wheeling WV -- until, uh oh, my motorcycle isn't responding right -- I'm losing power. Anything above 5000 rpm and the motor just revs to red-line without any power between 5000 and red-line. I'm out in the sticks without cell coverage -- got to get to civilization, but where?? I'm a long way from Wheeling. Pittsburg??? I'm thinking I'm pretty much due east from Steubenville so I head west.
A short time later I'm coming out of the sticks to discover I've landed in a small town just across the river from Steubenville (W--- something) .... looking for a motorcycle place ... looking for a motorcycle place. Ahhh, there's a Chopper Shop, at least they'll know where the nearest motorcycle shops are located -- they first laugh at the idea of turning a DL650 into a chopper and then tell me I'm in luck ... just back up the hill, WV side, is a Suzuki shop. I get there on a short section of freeway (50mph and hazard lights!!!) and thought I was in the wrong place -- there was nothing there. Then, up on the hill, I see a big truck with "Suzuki" on the side. Found the driveway which went straight up the hill at an extreme angle. My poor little DL650 just couldn't make it -- stopped half way up and no place to park it. I did a reverse U-Turn and my downhill foot couldn't even touch the ground. Parked the bike at the bottom of the hill and hoofed it up the hill in my motorcycle boots (like ski boots). Panting I see a chain link fence -- LOCKED!!! and a sign: "Closed on Wednesday"!!!
Driving across the bridge to Steubenville I'm thinking (not clearly) -- hey, I'm going 50mph, I can get home and avoid this small town hassle. Wrong, climbing up to Wintersville (___ ____'s home town) I'm only going 10mph, flashers flashing, and I'm driving the shoulder of the freeway. I exit. Harley Davidson place just 2 miles from the freeway -- but as you can imagine the thought of them working on my bike turned their stomachs -- but they did have pity on me and told me I was in luck, a Suzuki place just a few miles away (across the river in WV). "Sorry", I told them, "closed on Wednesday --- how about if I keep heading west, say, Cadiz?" -- Them: "Cadiz?!?!? are you kidding?!?! -- there ain't nothing west for a LONG way."
"Oh yes," they remember, "there's a Honda place about 15 miles from here -- we'll call'em" -- and they do. I'm driving back down the well of despair (Ohio River Valley) going to a place called "Brilliant", but at least it is all downhill -- in more ways than one ....
Driving through Steubenville, pass through Mingo Junction (see movie: "The Deer Hunter" and add 3 more decades of decline) and I arrive at the small town of Brilliant -- a tad short of living up to its name. I actually drive through this one road town and fail to see anything remotely like a motorcycle shop. Pull up to two fire fighters out working on a car engine in front of the fire station and they direct me to the motorcycle place -- pretty respectable for such a small town (but their area of coverage is, of course, huge). The guy in the shop says: "Well, we are so booked up right now, we have three jobs that need to be done TODAY ..." --- I add: "but, but, but ... we called down from the Harley place and you told them you'd take a look." He finally relents: "Okay, I can see you are in a bad spot. I'm going to have my best guy give you ten minutes and then we'll see." "Sure, anything -- the Suzuki place is closed on Wednesday, what am I going to do?"
In only 5 minutes the guy comes out and says: "My mechanic found the problem immediately -- you had no play in your clutch." Me: "What???" Him: "Your clutch cable is quite taunt and that means your clutch was never totally disengaged." Now I'm thinking: "Gees, my motorcycle fell this morning on the clutch handle side -- did I screw it up?" -- Okay, so I swallow my pride and admit to the guy I'm a rookie motorcyclist and that I had dumped the bike earlier today in the gas station. The guy has sympathy for me (my other motorcycle is a Honda Nighthawk CB250, and I use that fact as a bargaining chip -- he seemed more amused). "Okay," he says, "I'm going to have my guy give it ten more minutes and see what condition your clutch is in." --- "Great!!! -- I'll just be shopping for my next ride (funny, I think he believed me)."
"Your clutch is gone, I'm sorry." (he made it sound so final). "It doesn't look as though there is any sign of damage from the spill your bike took, but you'll not be getting this bike very much farther than right here under its own power." "Okay," I say, "tell me, you're an exclusive HONDA dealer, tell me the truth, can you guys fix this Suzuki? -- Otherwise I'll have it towed." "Yes, of course we can." (what else was he going to say?) ... in hind sight he turned out to be what I say is a great mechanic (over the phone), he's kept me very aware of how things progressed (1 1/2 weeks to get the clutch parts on a 2009 Suzuki). He offers and I accept a ride to the only cafe in town (you mean they HAVE a cafe?!?!?).
Cafe turns out to be kind of cutesy with little flowers painted on the walls and such, the waitress stated that that appealed to the 95% retired population of the town (wow 95% old folks -- and the rest nearly unemployed). Two hours for lunch and for most of that I'm the only customer, and all I have an iPod Touch for entertainment -- I re-review every music video I have stored on the thing and gorge myself. Call my wife at ________ (AP department) and fill her in on my location and need of rescue -- she gets off work at 5:15pm (no compromise -- sad). I ask (without much hope): "Is there a library in this town?" -- "Yes, just a half block away".
The warehouse converted to a library/community center had a sign on the darkened door: "Closed on Wednesday." Sheesh. Where am I going to go in these motorcycle boots -- not far. That SUN !!!, sheesh its HOT -- why'd I put that liner in my leather jacket anyway!!! I walk precisely 30 yards before I realize this is about as far as I want to walk in my attire, ... Oh look!!! That "Community Center" sign makes a nice patch of shade on a comfy looking piece of grass. I take of my jacket, kick off my boots and I actually catch about an hour's sleep.
Sudden noise. Eyes open to the glare and two retiree faces are looking straight down at me: "Are you alright?" --- humph, grown, embarrassment -- I explain the situation and they leave relieved. I just close my eyes again and just about start in on hour two of my nap when I hear a very slow moving vehicle on the road and a crunch of gravel as it comes to a stop ... oh no, I already know what I'll see when I open my eyes -- yes, a small town cop.
He ain't coming my way so I seize the moment to prove I'm friendly and walk across the grass in my stocking feet, rumpled shirt sans the jacket that I left back on the grass, and a nice scruffy easy maintence half-inch beard. The guy meets me on the sidewalk but "friendly" wasn't his style. This guy looks like he pumps weights whenever a bank isn't being robbed, or a nuclear detonation isn't taking place in his town -- he's pumped. And by the look on his face he'd either had one too few or one too many doughnuts today. I told my sad tale, and I even expressed just how LUCKY I was to have been able to make it to his town to find service. He obviously wasn't buying a word I said. "As the library was closed on Wednesdays, I thought I'd just hang out here until my wife picks me up." He states: "You can't stay here." -- "Okay, is there a park or somewhere that would be less intruding?" (my spot on the grass was about the least conspicuous place in town). "You can't stay here." (wait, didn't he just say that already??). He runs my name through NCIC and fortunately I have no current warrants out for my arrest (I guarantee I would have been down on the sidewalk and wrists cuffed behind my back faster that he could have said: "doughnut" if there had been a hint of a warrant). "You'll have to get in the car." -- "What?!?!? Am I under arrest?" "Oh, no no." he assures me.
Having never really experienced the back of a police car on too many occasions I had (not surprisingly) miscalculated the attire necessary to enter one of these vehicles. A cop car has so many do-dads and extras in the car that storage has been created out of the back of the front seat leaving very very little room for any feet except those of a perp with an extreme case of anorexia. Oh yes, did I mention the cop WOULDN'T allow me to ride in the front seat? My motorcycle boots allowing but the slightest of movements with my ankles kept me from getting my feet in the car (hey, I wear size 11, okay?). Embarrassed as I already was it took only a little more pride swallowing to pull my knees up to my chin and rest my boots on the seat beside me.
"Hey, where are you taking me?!?!?" He was driving more than two blocks (and that's a long ways in this town). I kid you not, his answer was: "You can't stay here." "Are you running me out of town?" "You can't stay here." Oh boy. "Ummm, officer, I had lunch at that cafe not a half-a-block from where you picked me up, what do you say you drop me off there and I'll wait for my wife." He offers: "I am dropping you at a cafe, you have a cell phone, right?" "Umm, the cafe I was at was the only one in town. WAIT!!!, Are you running me out of town?!?!??" "You can't stay here."
Mingo Junction isn't a place I'd ever want to stay for very long -- at least Brilliant had SOME grass. Mingo Junction (as depicted in the movie: "Deer Hunter") is the perfect image of industrial wasteland. Along with that scenic view there is a not so appealing cafe (open 24 hours). I arrived there with a completely satiated stomach with no further need of nourishment thanks to the only cafe in Brilliant -- I ordered coffee.
My wife never looked so good -- three and a half hours later.
-- the end --
Post-script: The bike is repaired. Mechanic's expert opinion: "Clutch was maladjusted for a long time, this didn't happen in one day." -- ____ ____ Motorsports gave it my 4000 mile check up about 1000 miles ago. I'll be picking it up Saturday morning from Brilliant with my wife -- maybe I'll stop and introduce my wife to the cop -- he'll probably ask to see our marriage license.
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Niebor
Ex-Member
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Posted - 11/06/2009 : 3:17 PM
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The statement: "My wife never looked so good -- three and a half hours later." In spite of the ordeal, I'm thinking otherwise. 
Very well said, I enjoyed it immensely! 
Between the lesson you teach, and the way you write it, +1! |
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WSMeders
Standard Member
105 Posts
OH, DC
USA
Yamaha
FZR600
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Posted - 11/06/2009 : 4:53 PM
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Good ol' OH!
Great story.
I grew up in a town in central OH with three cruisers, and each and every one of them was at any incident from curfew to theft.
And they were my football coaches... |
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Night Train
Moderator
1335 Posts
[Mentor]
Sydney, Nova Scotia
Canada
Harley-Davidson
03 Electra Glide Std
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Posted - 11/07/2009 : 2:18 AM
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Excellent story and very well written. It was as if we were right there with you. One of the great things about motorcycling is that even an account of our bad days provides a sense of adventure. |
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D R
Advanced Member
728 Posts
[Mentor]
Northern, Virginia
USA
BMW
R1200RT
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Posted - 11/07/2009 : 6:15 AM
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hmmmmm.....
....small, county town.....
....big, muscle-bound cop.....
.... ride in the back of police car.....
....run out of town.......
.... repeatedly told "You can't stay here."......
Wasn't that the way the movie RAMBO started? |
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alblancher
Senior Member
481 Posts
slidell, LA
USA
Yamaha
Roadliner
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Posted - 11/07/2009 : 9:24 AM
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You have convinced me to put "Tour the Ohio River Valley" at number 9,999 on the 10,000 places to see before I die list. Thanks for the well written story.
Al |
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Scooter rider
Junior Member
74 Posts
Fletcher, Ohio
USA
Kymco
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Posted - 11/13/2009 : 6:29 PM
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Now come on admit it a bad day out on your bike is still better than your best day at work |
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Niebor
Ex-Member
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Posted - 11/13/2009 : 9:42 PM
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quote:
Originally posted by Scooter rider
Now come on admit it a bad day out on your bike is still better than your best day at work
Well now, that depends. I've certainly had days on the bike that I'd gladly trade for a day at work. OK, beyond crash or major breakdown, not very many. |
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Cash Anthony
 Administrator
1185 Posts
[Mentor]
Houston, Texas
USA
Honda
Magna 750
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Posted - 11/18/2009 : 10:27 AM
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This is certainly one of the big reasons we ride: to have great stories to tell! Glad your day was "challenging" and not a disaster. You must have had to bite your tongue about the fourth time you heard, "You can't stay here."
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