It was a pretty nice place. The manager came around in the morning to tell us his motorcycling stories and all of the dirty jokes he knew. He let us use the porch of the cabin to the left to dry out our stuff even though my camp stove scorched the plastic picnic table. It was very cold that night and I used the stove mostly for warmth.
Adam was quickly losing faith in our ability to repair the 690 and was arranging for his
significant other to come pick us up but in the meantime we had a few hours to make our way East so she wouldn't have to drive so far. We plotted a route did the now familliar process of turning the key and listening for the pump, started the bike and made it to the interstate. The idea was to get to the interstate, then get AMA roadside assistance to take the bike 50 miles east but the bike was running well and lasted longer than I expected so we started off down Hwy 70 instead. It died a few minutes later. While we were coming up with the next plan. Out of nowhere a guy pulls up in a truck, tells us he also owns a 690 and was just saying "hi" as he is on his way home to leave for a trip. Fast forward 30 minutes;
I am forever indebted to ADV rider husa
for taking time out of his day and driving 40 miles out of his way (and back) to deliver us to Performance Supercycle in Cookville, TN. He accepted nothing but a handshake and a few stories for the huge favor.
At Performance Supercycle they of course didn't have the fuel pump in stock but they are experts with the fuel injected Husabergs and newer KTMs and were able to rebuild mine with an aftermarket parts kit. We cooled our heels for 3 or so hours while they worked on the 690.
We read their magazines, touched every bike in the store 5 times, fingered all of the accessories, looked at the used tire pile and even read the owners manual for a Chinese scooter that had hilarious engrish. Like "Superexcelent Performance." If only I had a camera, that manual was comedy gold.
My credit card was dented but the bike ran great. We rode 120 miles or so through Nashville to meet Kim but not before meeting another fan.
His concern was my expired tags. It's a long story but I mailed the check and they sent it back because the taxes were changed in between when they mailed the bill and when I paid it. In any other business that would be fraud. Anyway I pretended to be surprised and he was genuinely surprised that the insurance was paid up.
Two miles later we met up with Kim at a truck stop with a fast food restaurant, Tied down the bikes and went inside where I bought dinner.
But not before our new best friend the state trooper came by to tell us about his motorcycling history. I think his plan when he stopped me was to break the ice so he could tell us about the time he did an iron butt on a CB1000. He genuinely was a nice guy, I'm just not that into cops or being pulled over on the interstate for trifling bullshit.
Kim and Adam dropped me at an exit about 45 miles from home in cold-driving rain. It was then that I discovered that the AFX-FX39 Dualsport helmet sucks ass in cold-driving rain. It fogged instantly and I couldn't crack the visor just a little to let in a little air like you can on every other full face helmet on the planet. Whenever I met a car, I had to open the thing all the way and fill my face with rain and cold in order to see. At least I had the rest of the weekend off and didn't have to sleep in a tent in that weather.