Doing the Loop Part 11

I began feeling that giving away my bottle of water to the homeless man was a bad idea as I was getting pretty thirsty myself.  A distinct disadvantage of a motorcycle over a car is trying to look like you belong anywhere when you are not moving.  You can't take a nap like you can in a car.  You can't hide.  And you are out of luck if it begins to rain.  I was thinking I was out of luck as the sky was darkening with clouds.  

I was seriously beginning to worry as I had been waiting for over two hours.  How could they take so long when they were only minutes behind me at Glennallen and Eureka?  Then I thought I wouldn't put it past Greg to stop and shop at Sportsman's Warehouse on the way home either.  Something had to be up.  I wasn't going to hit the panic button yet.

Along about 9 pm, Chase's white pick up truck pulls into the parking lot.  I patiently reserved judgment until I heard their story.  Turns out that a spark plug blew out of the motor in Chase's truck on the way up the pass after leaving Eureka.  It stripped right out leaving an open hole where the spark plug should have been.  The effect of this is like having a 10,000 pound Volkswagen when you try to go up a hill.  The motor runs rough, you have no power and your gas mileage goes in the bucket.  So they limped all that way in to Anchorage while I was having the ride of my life.  

I felt bad for Chase as here he had volunteered his time and truck to help us out of a bind and now he was in one himself.  He was optimistic though.  "Oh no problem", he says, "I've got all the tools at home to fix it myself!"  Yeah, I think at home,  you are over 300 miles away from home.  

Well the best thing to do at a time like this is to eat.  We pile into Chase's truck and go to some burger joint.  I am beat after fighting the wind most of the afternoon.  We have some conversation but emotionally and physically we are done in.  

When we get back to where we are staying, Todd is there waiting for us.  He was going to leave on his own from Tok and go to Valdez.  He got half way to Valdez from Glennallen and decided that he should turn around and go back home to Homer where he lives.  

The four of us pile into our room for the night.  There isn't a lot of discussion about anything as we are all ready for bed.  After showers and a little small talk we are all out like a light.

In the morning we awake to see that rain has enveloped Anchorage.   The rain has turned to shining beads on my waxed Electra Glide.  

Not the most hoped for scenario when you are riding a bike.  With any luck, the clouds will lift with the day and the roads will dry out.   We can't feel too bad about the rain, the firefighters on the Funny River fire on the Kenai Peninsula sure need the help as it has been bone dry all week and the fire hasn't given an inch to them. 

With a little resignation in our spirits we pack up our stuff.  We can't just get up and roar out of town as we have to deal with Greg's tire and Chase's truck.  First order of business is to get to the Anchorage House of Harley and see if they will have mercy on us poor souls and get Greg in right away.

We arrive and yes, they will take care of Greg's tire first thing.  The Harley riders we met in Tok two nights before are back to work after the Memorial Day weekend (looking like they must have had a rough weekend themselves) are there and we get lots of hellos and thanks for dinner conversation. 

We bid farewell to Chase as he is anxious to get home before his Bible Study tonight.  What?  You have a Bible Study tonight and you drove Greg to Anchorage?  What a guy.  We all help Chase with some gas money and he assures us his 10,000 pound Volkswagen will make it home just fine.  He has everything he needs to fix it there. Chase drives off with his sputtering, halting pick up.  I say a prayer for that incredibly generous man. 

Greg's bike is a special kind of Harley Davidson.  It's a "V-Rod" which is Harley's "muscle bike".  It goes like scat.  It is somewhat of a rare bird in that you have a choice of one tire you can put on the back.  That's right, out of the thousands of different motorcycle tires in the world, you get your choice of one.  So, you can ask whatever you want for the tire because you can't get it anywhere else.  It's a $400 tire.  That's one tire, not four or even two.  I decide that I will probably never have the pleasure of owning a V-Rod.  

We wander the House of Harley for what seems like forever.  It is terrible.  Harley stores are like kryptonite to Harley riders.  Everything looks like something you have to have.  I am resisting the fatal attraction of numerous items.  I even pass the most incredible "onesy" that I should buy my little granddaughter.  It says, "My Papa rides a Harley".  Who could resist such offerings?!  The only reason I don't buy it as I don't know what size she is.  I longingly look at all the chrome replacement parts for my bike.  I remember the old saying, "chrome won't get you home."  It is barely enough antidote to resist buying parts for my bike that absolutely don't need to be replaced.  

After drooling on all the merchandise I start reading all the pictures on the walls.  I go upstairs and downstairs.  I finally find the free coffee and some cinnamon rolls.  I stuff a dollar into the can and help myself.  There are a few die hard bikers conversing over their free coffee and retelling the stories of their rides over the Memorial Day weekend.  

You know the die hard types, they don't wear helmets or sissy stuff like that.  They usually have "do-rags" and goggles or dark shades.  The hardest of the die hard bikers eschew things like fairings or saddle bags otherwise known as "baggers" like my Electra Glide.  No, they ride "hard tails" which are bikes without rear suspension, the back tire being the only thing to soften the ride.  I am still not sure if the term "hard tail" refers to the fact that the bike does not have rear shocks or their backside is being referenced.  I can't imagine riding very long on one of those.  My tail is not very hard.

So, here I sit among a small group of bikers, some die hards and feel right at home where I would have felt awkward and out of place just a year ago.  I actually own a Harley and I actually ride it.  I am thinking of buying a do-rag.  I tell myself that is just the kryptonite talking and resist.  

Someone tells us that Greg's bike is done.  Amazing.  We can go home now.  But not so fast.  Greg must rig up his bike with all the pack and whatnot before we can go.  It is still slightly misty outside but not raining nearly as hard.  Killing time at the House of Harley may have saved us a little getting wet time.  

It is lunch time by the time we are ready.  Greg, Todd and I agree that we just need a quick lunch and then we will be on the road again.  Todd loves Burger King.  OK, there is one right on the corner of the Dimond Mall right on Dimond boulevard, it is agreed, we will stop there for lunch.  

We get the gut bomb and devour it like we are starved.  I am anxious to get on the road again.  We soon pull out together into the busy Anchorage traffic.  It is just 100 yards or so til we get the on ramp to the New Seward Highway.  Riding south we are soon down to the Potter Flats and out of the rain with dry roads.  I thank the Lord for His favor.  There must be some mistake though as there is still tons of traffic.  Long lines of cars led by one slow one in the front make their way around the serpentine route to Girdwood where Greg must fill his peanut sized gas tank before heading home.  So, we patiently keep our places in the long lines of traffic that were supposed to be gone after the Memorial Day weekend.  

Girdwood is a madhouse like the day we first took off on our journey.  By now I am getting familiar with the fuel needs of my bike and decide I won't need any thing at this stop.  I sit patiently drummng my finger tips on my gast tank and wait for Greg to fuel his bike.  

Just in case, Todd dons his rain gear which is kind of makeshift.  Usually I am the makeshift guy with a hodge-podge of gear.  Todd is kind of short and his rain pants are sized generously for him.  The effect going down the road is like him turning into the Philsbury Doughboy with loose skin.  His rain gear billows and flaps all at once.  It is a sight to behold.

We catch a break in the traffic as we roar off in a blaze of glory out of Girdwood.  Todd like most other Harley riders has "upgraded" his exhaust pipes (read: "louder").  He is mostly responsible for us "roaring" off.  I don't think I will be upgrading my pipes, I kind of like my understated Harley.  I can't say for sure though, you never know when you will fall prey to the kryptonite.  Harley does make a "Screaming Eagle" line of performance parts and those pipes do sound pretty nice...

We pass slower cars with abandon (safely mind you, if you are my wife reading this...) and ride the most familiar stretch of road that we have traveled many times on the Kenai Peninsula.  It is beautiful country.  Turnagain Pass, Tern Lake, the Russian River, Linda Lake and the Sterling Flats are as beautiful as anywhere else on the road in Alaska.

We near Soldotna where the Harley Shop is and Greg and Todd begin to signal to pull over there.  I wave as I pass them as I am now just minutes from home, no need for me to stop and face the kryptonite again.  It's a good decision as just as I enter Soldotna drops of rain splash against my windshield.  I am just 7 miles from home and I know I can make it before the rain gets serious.  

Soon I am slowly ambling down my gravel street to my house.  I stop in my driveway and think about the past three days for a bit.  What a fun trip, what an adventure, what a, whew, I need a shower.  My wife comes out with a grin on her face, I'm not sure if it is about my grizzled face or spectacular helmet hair. One of the nice things I find out about a bike trip is that there is not much to put away when you are done.  

I roll my bike into the garage just as some big floppy drops of rain spatter on the drive.  Just in time, I think to myself.  I hope Greg and Todd are not getting it too bad.  

I shower, shave and sit in my favorite chair thinking over the trip.  A lifetime memory for sure.

Epilogue

Greg did tell me that as soon as they left the Soldotna Harley Shop that the rain slammed them full force all the way to Homer.  Todd had removed all his rain gear while they were at the Harley Shop and did not want to stop and put it on again.  So he was punished by torrential rain and wind the whole 75 miles to Homer.  Great for the firefighters not so good for bikers.  

THE END