Doing the Loop - Part 8

After sleeping like the dead for 8 hours, we wake up, take a shower and head to Fast Eddy's for breakfast.  Everything they do is good at that restaurant.  We talk about finding this motorcycle mechanic, getting the tire patched from the inside and hitting the road as soon as possible.  

Chase, the pastor of Tok Assembly of God, offers to load Greg's bike in the back of his pick up to transport it to the mechanic's place, if he can remember where it is.  There aren't a lot of roads in Tok but the ones that are there are long and people are pretty spread out.  Since Chase doesn't own a bike there is little need for him to know where the bike mechanic lives.

I stay behind and pack my stuff.  I calculate my gas mileage so far, 38.6 miles to the gallon.  For an older, naturally aspirated V-Twin motor, it's not too bad.  The newer, liquid cooled, injected bikes do better, but not by a lot.  I am done and ready to go when Chase gets back without the Harley in the back of his truck. It's about 9 am.

He says they found the mechanic and left Greg and the bike there.  It shouldn't take too long.  Greg will call when they are done.  Great! I think to myself.  I am hoping we can hit the road by lunch time and ride like the wind to Anchorage.  I am not anxious to get to Anchorage or anything, I just want to ride without interruption for a long ways.  I hope I get my opportunity.

Chase invites me into their home which is kept quite nice.  I fondly observe their little boy who is a little older than my new granddaughter.  Chase and Stacey are hungry for ministry talk.  Chase is actually a National Guardsman.  He is being called up active duty in September.  He has pastored the Tok Assembly for about 2 years.  They don't often get to talk about pastoring and ministry out here.  So we talk and talk and talk some more.  They are such genuine and compassionate people.  I just can't detect a cynical or sarcastic note in either of them.  Maybe they just haven't pastored long enough yet. (Wow, that was cynical.  Maybe I have pastored too long.)

We talk and tald and talk after all the talking we just did.  I am expecting Greg to call any minute saying, "all is well, let's hit the road", but it doesn't happen.  I suggest to Chase that maybe we should check on Greg since we haven't heard from him and it is after 1 pm.  

We get in the truck and head out of town and take a left off the Alaska Highway down a gravel road (they are all gravel here except for the highway which used to be gravel.)  We go down the road quite a ways and make another left.  Not far down this "street" we see lots of junk in a yard, a unmistakable sign of a mechanic.  This is "CJ", the mechanic's place.  He is everything you would expect to find in Tok.

I of course don't take enough pictures.  CJ is the one on his knees lining up the wheel on Greg's bike.  That green CAT bulldozer in the background is a genuine 1940 model that was probably left over from the original construction of the Alaska Highway in 1940.  CJ is very proud of it, although in true mechanic fashion, it's not in running condition at the moment.  But it will be, he just needs time to get to it.  His garage is a cacophony of tools, parts of engines, buckets, jacks, screws, bolts and whatever strew everywhere, on the floor, shelves and workbenches.  He seems to know where it all is so I don't attempt to move anything.

CJ is an interesting man.  He works all school year in the Noatak School District high up in the arctic.  He is the industrial arts teacher.  I didn't know they still had industrial arts teachers anywhere anymore.  I thought that went the way of the rotary dial telephone.  He has all his summers off and is a dedicated sport bike rider, BMW is his brand.  He has traveled the length of South America, the breadth of North America to Newfoundland and back.  He is wanting to get to Europe but is a little short of cash.

He is the kind of guy who heads out not knowing all the answers, depending on the kindness of strangers and not much money on his person.  It has gotten him this far.  He pays it forward too by housing people down on their luck, helping, ahem, stranded bikers with no guarantee of payment and other general good will.  He is a pretty smart guy and knows his way around a bike, even though he doesn't get a chance to work on a Harley very often in Tok.  Oh yes, CJ is also not married.

I inquire as to the progress of the tire.  The tire is ruined.  They pulled it off and the inside was shredded as the riding it flat was breaking all the internal belts.  It is unsafe to ride on and probably whatever we did, it would still go flat.  It is just a good thing that the tire didn't shred on the highway in the condition it was in.

So, the tire gets put back on the bike and eventually is loaded in the back of Chase's truck again.  We are all famished and we invite CJ to Fast Eddie's for lunch.  I figure I won't get out of here until after 3 in the afternoon by now.  I am thinking perhaps Greg will have to ride on the back of my bike.  The three of us in Chase's truck make it pretty tight in the cab.  I am thinking it won't be any better with two big guys on an Electra Glide.

We order at Fast Eddie's.  Greg orders the "side" of deep fried mushrooms as an appetizer.  They come out soon enough.  It is the largest pile of deep fried mushrooms I have ever seen.  Honestly, there must have been 50 of those babies on a platter.  We are all shocked and Greg invites us to help him eat them up.  Other than they were hotter than lava, they tasted amazing.

During lunch Chase volunteers himself, his truck and his time to run Greg's bike to Anchorage.  What an amazing guy.  He is anxious to do it and spend some uninterrupted time in the cab talking ministry with Greg and tap all of his experience.  

We finish another great meal at Fast Eddies and say good bye to CJ.  We get back to the church and I realize, I am going to be on my own for the ride back to Anchorage.  This is both a scare and a thrill at the same time.  I figure if I take off first, if I break down along the way, the truck and help will not be far behind.  

Since I am already packed up, all I have to do is don my leathers and hit the road.  I do so and am out of town after saying good bye to the Musick's.  I ponder the crazy variables of the trip.  Last night I was riding in a group of 8 now I am a group of 1.  I am excited to head out.  I power up and am out of town in a moment.  There is nothing but empty road ahead.