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[telesilla]

The Sacramento Gay Men’s chorus was singing up at Placer Pride today. I was just going to drive Nancy up there, but then I had the spoons to deal with people, and I’m so glad I did. It was a lovely, small Pride fest in a park, the weather was perfect, and it was a great day being around our people. Also one stall had colorful catnip mats for kitties and obviously someone already likes it.

[two-wheeled-therapy]

Day two at the cabin started much like day 1, I guess that’s why they call it a routine.  I got up and got the coffee on and started making breakfast.  This morning it was scrambled eggs with a ham steak. We had talked about two things for the day, 1) Riding through West Virginia and down into Kentucky or 2) Riding up to Will’s hometown and having lunch with his dad.  We opted for option 2.  It’s funny how things work out sometimes . . .

Brian and I mapped out a run that would take us the long way to Will’s Dad’s house.  We wiggled back up the Back of the Dragon and headed through the Narrows.  It was once again an amazing fall day, crisp clear air and vibrant colors on the trees.  At one point, we got behind another rider as we wiggled along a river.  The leaves had completely covered our side of the road, and more were falling from the trees.  As the rider ahead cut his way through them, he kicked them up towards me and then my air stream hit them sending a circling wall of leaves back towards Brian.

We took a break along the river in the Narrows before continuing on and once we got to the house and ordered our lunch.  It was good seeing Will’s dad.  Honestly I don’t think I’ve seen him since Will and graduated from the State Police Academy nearly 27 years ago. I don’t think he remembered me, but that’s OK.  Will and I ran out to pick up the lunches in downtown Pearisburg, VA.  Again it turned out to be a good thing that I went with him.  After picking up our lunches we turned back to the house.  I noticed a little bike shop tucked behind the Napa.  It looked small, but there were a couple of bikes pulling in and going out.  Will made a comment about the Dual Sports out front and we continued on our way.

We had a great lunch.  I think we tired Will’s dad out a bit, but we all enjoyed the visit.  Will told us we should head up to Mountain Lake, the ride would be good and the views would be amazing.  Plugging the route into my GPS, I led the way as we headed out.

Just before we got to the house, I had noticed the bike lurching a little and slipping.  It actually felt like I had something caught in the belt or somewhere on the bike.  With the road we had been over the day before, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was rocks or gravel still tumbling around.  I did a quick check before we headed back out, but didn’t see anything.

As we made our turn to head up the mountain to get to Mountain Lake the noise and slipping became worse.  It sounded like I had rocks in the transmission and the bike would fade to the right then kick back to the left.  Realizing something was definitely wrong with the bike, and knowing that a kick like these could spell disaster on a mountain curve, I pulled off.  Brian and I inspected the bike on the side of the road, but didn’t see anything.  We turned around and headed back to the main road and a gas station.  Brian followed behind me observing what the bike was doing.  Once at the station, we took off the left saddle bag and side cover and inspected the belt.  Not seeing anything, I realized that something that had never happened in the 9 years and 89,000 miles that I had ridden my Voyager.  She had breakdown on a trip.  It was then that I remembered that little bike shop back in Pearisburg.  What was the name?  Gear something . . . Gearhead .  . . Gearhead Junction.  Googling them I called to see if they may be able to help me out.

A girl named Lori answered and when I told her what was happening she told me not to worry, she was sure they could take a look at it.  I decided to limp the bike over since it was only about 10 miles away.  But I tell you what, the way the bike was acting, it felt like she was trying to buck me off and it was one of the most white knuckled rides I have ever done.  I would have rather ridden back across Burke’s Garden Road again than repeat the ride to Gearhead Junction.  It was about 4:45 PM when I set out to get to Gearhead, I got there a little after 5:00.  Their hours said they were open till 6:00. 

Anyone who has ridden a motorcycle long distances and has experienced issues on the road knows that you are at the mercy of the shop you limp to or are brought to.  The fate of your trip rests on the mercy and understanding of the shop.  Do they put you in line, or try to take care of you?  Fortunately the folks of Gearhead Junction understand this and are merciful and kind folks.  Upon arrival, I was met by the whole crew.  Lori was there and was just as sweet in person as she was on the phone, Terry, the owner of the place was there, and their two mechanics, one named Curtis and the other’s name I didn’t catch in it all.  Curtis quickly threw on a helmet to take it for a spin to see what the bike was doing.  He didn’t need to go too far and was back in no time knowing something was wrong.  The bike was on the lift in no time and it was rapidly determined that the rear bearings may be the culprit.  Terry explained that he would do what he could, but even if he found a set of bearings and had them over-nighted there, I was likely looking at being down for a couple of days.  Then it looked like he had an idea and disappeared for about 15 minutes.

As I was checking out the Royal Enfield Himalyans in front of the shop (which will be added to my stable soon and the thought came to me that I may just add one sooner than planned and ride one back while they work on my Voyager) Terry came back from the direction of the Napa.  He said he found some bearings with the same specs as the Voyagers, and could put them on the bike tomorrow.  It was about 6:15 when I jumped in the car with Will to ride back to the cabin about a hundred miles away.  I was bummed because of the issue, but I knew that my bike was in the right hands.  The Gods were smiling down on me as who knows what would have happened if we had decided to make the West Virginia/Kentucky run that day instead.

Once back at the cabin, we cleaned up then headed into Marion for some dinner and drinks.  While it wasn’t certain if I would need to extend my stay down here a couple of days while my bike was worked on, I knew it was being well taken care of.  And that, along with a couple of black and tans, helped me sleep well that night . . . 

[shermanglobal]

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