Sturgis Chronicles - The Beginning

We were going to see it all! Northern Arizona canyons, Four Corners, Moab, Canyon Lands, Utah's interior, Spanish Fork.. Jackson, WY, Yellowstone, Chief Joseph Highway, we were packed and ready to roll. The group couldn't wait to get on the road and get out on to the open road.

Departure was a little later than we ideally would have liked but with all of us having kids in school and with the school year just starting we wanted to make sure they got off ok so we ended up leaving around 8:00 a.m., give or take a few minutes.

Finally!! On the road!!! Wooo-hooo! All of our prep work, all the discussions, plans, hashing and rehashing, cleaning, packing, tune-ups were all coming to fruition! Fire 'em up cuz baby...We were off!

ummmm....So we thought....

We hadn't even pulled out of the neighborhood yet when we heard the wind being sucked into my buddies engine so it was a quick trip back to the driveway, break out the tool kit and try to figure out what the source of the problem was. Off comes the seat, the air filter cover, check the lines, check this, check that put it all back together and we get the same result. I'm sure if we would have not been in a rush to get on the road we would have/could have figured out the problem in just a moment or two. As luck would have it we were in a hurry to leave. We all desperately wanted to beat the 3.5 million people that were going to clog the highways leading out of the "Valley of the Sun" and start heading north to cooler weather. I'm sure my buddies stress level was starting to rise; here we were - the entire group - trying to get on the road and we needed to fix his bike before we could even leave the familiar surroundings of the stucco clad houses that are our neighborhood.

We found the problem after 30 minutes or more of searching. On his bike there is an air intake tube that runs under his tank towards the neck of the bike. On that tube, there is a rubber boot that connects it to the carb; correction... is supposed to connect it to the carb. Once we found the issue we quickly re-connected it and we were off.

We rolled to the far north side of the valley (Phoenix metro area), 50 miles or so from our starting point. The plan was to have an easy breakfast and ride hard to Flagstaff where we'd fuel, take a quick break and head towards Kayenta (Southern side of Monument Valley). At least, that WAS the plan.

We had all just finished our meal, the ladies headed out to the bikes while we took care of the check. As I'm standing in line to pay one of the ladies in our group comes up and says - "your bike has a flat tire...." and as she's telling me this she's backing away. First I thought she was kidding but was soon to find that she was serious. Someplace along the highway I had picked up a nail in the sidewall of my front tire... here we are, 10:00 am, still in Phoenix, and it's getting hot.

I thank God every day of my life for good friends. This day especially. Not only are they really good at keeping me calm when I really don't want to be, they also jump in without hesitation to help whenever it's needed. Today was no exception. I never had time to think about it (other than to utter a few not so nice words) before my buddies were on thier way to get a can of fix-a-flat so we could get to the nearest dealer or tire outlet for repairs."

The fix-a-flat has arrived! Great right? Now it's just a matter of getting to the local dealer located about 15 minutes across town from where we were. No worries, 15 minutes, hey that's not a big deal. We'll get there, get in, get the tire changed and get back on the road in - oh, I don't know, I'm thinking an hour or so. Sounds reasonable, right?

sigh.... I really shouldn't think!

Around 10:30 am Our group arrives at the dealer, dismount and the guy's head to the service department while the ladies decide to browse main store, bikes, clothes and accessories. The Service tech and I go over what I need, I explain that we're on the road heading to Sturgis, we have 4 days to get there and I would appreciate anything he could do to get us in and out as quickly as possible. I personally think that the green dye in his hair has impacted his hearing and cognitive thought process. The only evidence to this phenomenom I call "Green Creep" is his response... "...ummm, we can get you in about 1:00 this afternoon..." I explained our situation again. Not trying to be unreasonable, nearly pleading for him to work us in. I explained that we were travelling across country, how long we had to get to our destination, the fact that we had reservations in South Eastern Utah tonight and we didn't want to ride all night to get there. I then asked if he couldn't do something to bump me up in the order, "it's just a tire change", it's not like I needed an overhaul and was demanding it in the next 15 minutes or anything. The answer remained the same a big, fat, "sorry dude". Still in search of some help I asked for a recommendation where I may be able to get in and out quickly, anyplace, it didn't need to be a dealer..(I did't think this was too unreasonable)... Ole' Green Hair must have skipped out on some of the Customer Service training that the dealership offered and took the class on "sorry dude" instead. I think my face must have given away some warning sign of my growing frustration with the Service Tech's unwillingness to bend a little or even offer any help. As I'm certain that I was about to kindly thank him for his lack of any assistance, my friends were ushering me out to the sounds of thier offering "Thanks anyway"...

We're now at 11:00 am - still in Phoenix. Still with 380 Miles to ride.

It didn't take long before everyone was at the pay phone around the corner from the Dealership, thumbing through the "Yellow Pages" looking for the nearest tire center. Easy enough if I would have been driving my car it seemed like there was a Auto tire center every other mile... sigh...

A few minutes of searching and we came up with a couple of numbers to dial, and dial we did. Out of the three that were close to us (close being relative at that time) one said they could get us in right away and have us back on the road in about 30 minutes.

Over the years I've learned that when anyone promises you they can have you on the road in 30 minutes for anything - you had better double it.

Off we went to the Shanty Shack Garage - of course we didn't know that at the time - I think it was actually called Bob's Cycles or something close to it anyway. After about 15 or 20 minutes riding across town we arrived at Bob's. It was rustic to say the least. The newest motorcycle that they had sitting out front must have been 1970's vintage. For a biker this is actually a good sign. I wouldn't let just any wrench touch a vintage bike without full 100% confidence in their ability. I rode my bike throught the rows of vintage rides to the garage entrance where I was promptly met by... Bob. Nice.... Bob was a good guy, very capable, gave me all the assurance in the world that he had a wide-white that matched the tread I was running and could get me in and out in 30 minutes. I'm still happy... I put the kick-stand down and turn the bike over to Bob. My freinds all tell me that I need to come out of the garage and let the man work. I guess I'm a bit over-protective of my bike - I can't help it I've put blood sweat and tears into this thing, it is my mechanical sweet-heart. Reluctantly I walk to the opening of the garage and lean against the wall, waiting, watching, hawking.

Looking around the shop, I don't see any motorcycle lifts - a few come-alongs strung from the rafters but no lifts. Worry starts to set in and I start to pace. Again, my friends try to distract me, some mumbo-jumbo about cool stuff in the main part of the shop. Some old antiquie things I should go look at - real cheap prices on leather... they were trying everything to get me out of the garage... I wasn't having it.

Out come the floor jacks - you know, those one's you buy at the autoparts store that are rated for 2.5 tonnes... What the heck is he going to do with those? That thought didn't last long before they were shoved under the frame of my bike and Bob and his buddy started to crank my bike into the air.

It was 100% involentary, I swear, but I started to move forward, covering ground like a lion on the hunt. I must have been half way across the floor when my wife and best friend were redirecting me, again towards the door, telling me they would watch my bike but if I wanted to get on the road I needed to walk down the street and get something to drink and let this man do his job...

Calmer or at least less anxious heads prevailed, I walked down to the convienience store for a bottle of coke, stopped into the main part of the repair shop, took a look around - they did have some cool old stuff in there, and by the time I returned to the garage my bike was ready and waiting for me to take her down the road.

12:30 - still in Phoenix but it's looking promising!

Northern Arizona - Here we come!

12:30 a little later than the 8:00 am departure that we were hoping for but on the positive side, by the time we were done subtracting mileage for our backtracking, we were still 30 miles closer. That had to have been the longest 30 miles I've ever ridden. 12:30 in the Arizona desert, not only is the temperature now about 105 and climbing but we can see the Monsoon storm clouds brewing to the north of us. There's a photo that will give you an idea of what we were looking at here .

West on Bell Road to I-17 turn right and head north and head north FAST. Our exhaust reverberating off of the pavement and the miles are starting to tick off; nothing now but the sounds of our bikes thundering down the road and in the wind. I think about thirty miles in we all start to relax and throttle back just a bit as we start to head up "the hill" towards Flagstaff, just about the same time we see traffic beginning to build up, then come the "Road Under Construction" signs, sigh, here we go (or not) again. Traffic begins to crawl, the bikes begin to get hot, the pavement beats the desert heat back up at us. Still in leathers, D*mn it's hot. Traffic is just moving enough that we can't jump off and strip out of the leathers, we're stuck in our own personal ovens. Waiting, waiting for traffic to either move faster or stop completely so we can cool ourselves off.

Fifteen minutes now, yo-yo-ing with the traffic in the other lane. A white "Caddy", mom and dad in the front and kids in the back, has been our latest yo-yo companion. After the second or third time of taking turns taking the lead the dad rolls down his window wanting to know where we're headed. The conversation is nice, helps to pass the time; we talk about our route, how long it "should" take, where they are from (Big HELLO to the tourist from England - sorry I don't remember your names), their route and how much they'll love the Grand Canyon. They begin to move ahead of us again when one of the ladies with us asks if they have any water they could spare; (105+ in leather, with the heat from the road, travelling like a tortise...auuugggghhh!)they promptly hand out three bottles of ice cold water - we thought we'd gone to heaven!

The line still moves slow but at least now we're seeing signs that we are nearing the construction site; pylons are in place, signage all over, in the distance we can see the Flagman. Surely it won't be long now.

Dead Stop, we're not moving an inch, another fifteen or twenty minutes have passed. The ladies get off the bikes and start walking up the road, hoping that they'll be able to give us an idea of how long the line is or at least what's going on. We shut the bikes off, they've neared the overheating point to often and none of us want to risk our engines when we're only 80 miles or so from home. Surely it has to get better?

Read what happens next and so much more; the ongoing saga and more travel stories at Ride White Lines Blog... Day 1 has more events.. maybe even better...sigh...

You know you've worn out your old one, so why not stop by and give a old biker a nod...

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