We left our house in San Antonio at about 8 am. We definitely tried to get out earlier because it has been ruthlessly hot in this part of the country and we wanted to enjoy a few cooler moments on the road, but we’ve never been a couple that sticks to our schedule.
Anyway, the first hour of riding was great. Not much traffic. Small country roads – even a little dirt.
Then, all of a sudden, as I’m pulling up a small hill, the bike dies. I pull off to the side of the road and get off to take a look at things. Nothing seems out of the ordinary and it starts up beautifully, so we take off once again. Then, five minutes later, it dies again and I’m barely able to muscle it off the road. We spend the next 4 hours sitting on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere while I try to do everything in my mechanical know-how. I pull the plugs, find that one is black, and begin focusing my energy on the left side. I check the valves. I pull the carb and do a bit of cleaning. I pull the airbox. I do absolutely everything I can think of but the bike refuses to run. Finally, after hours in the sun with no water or food, my wife convinces me to call for help. I am defeated. No pictures were taken during this part of the day - with the amount of curse words being thrown around, my wife doubted that it would be the proper time for a photograph.
Finally, I decide to call some friends to come pick us up with a trailer and as we’re sitting in the tiny bit of shade that we find under a small tree, a man stops and gets out of his car. Much to my chagrin, it is a good friend of my dad. He talks with us for a few minutes, hears that we’re okay and that we have a ride lined up, and leaves us with a chuckle. “All the way to Canada, huh?”, he says before taking off. Minutes later, our phones are choked with the calls of friends and family asking what has happened. Awesome.
Finally, after several more hours of waiting (thankfully a kind woman stopped and gave us water, grapes and cherries), we’re picked up and driven back home. After talking to Ken Storm (our faithful dealer), we decide to drive 5 hours to Dallas to stay with a friend and take our bike into Stormseller Motorcycles. What a day…what a depressing first day…
Day 1 mileage by bike: 60 miles
Day 1 mileage by car: 400 miles