Day 8: Suckiness

I've got the bike up on its centerstand with the green military duffel on the topcase to get the front wheel off the ground. Cars are whizzing by as I slowly turn the front wheel looking for the leak. What a way to start a day.

As usual I was up early; I figured if I could get up early enough I'd have time to swing past Roswell, NM. Leaving the campsite at 6am, I got five miles down the road when I noticed that the bike wasn't very responsive to handlebar inputs. It steered very heavy, and instead of being neutral it wanted to stand up. Not good. And not at all like a flat rear tire, which manifests itself as a squirminess. Must be the front tire... Since the VFR has linked brakes (applying the front brake applies a little rear brake and vice versa) and I wanted to minimize the braking forces on the front tire, I carefully downshifted and used engine compression to slow down. The last few mph I had to use the brakes, and got off the road safely.

I found the air leak, and fortunately it wasn't the tire. It was the valve stem. More than a year ago I had installed Gold-Wing valve stems which are bent, making it easier to check/fill the tire pressure. With a brake disc on each side of the wheel, it can be hard to get in there with a tire gauge. It seemed like a good idea at the time (I hope I don't have to say that again soon). My theory is that the bent stem allowed the centrifugal forces to pull on the stem, and the heat softening the rubber and high speeds was probably enough to get it to pop out. Damn. I have a tirepatching kit with me, but that doesn't help, it's not a valve-stem-repair-kit. But the kit does contain vulcan cement for the patch, so I used the screwdriver to push as much of the valve back into the wheel, and gloop on some of that cement. Then I wait 15 minutes for the cement to bond. In the meantime, I notice that I'm parked right in front of a sign indicating it's 15 miles to Carlsbad. I figure a valve is a valve, any tire shop should be able to fix it. I could call Honda Riders Club and ask where the nearest shop is, but there is no cell service here in the boonies. Once the cement is dry, I leave the cap off the valve as that would increase the weight which would increase bending the valve. I also won't go very fast. Ironically, the left Hillsboro I learned that centrifugal force increases with mass and velocity, so I know to minimize both as much as possible. To inflate the tire, I use a tire pump. This is one of the cheap $10 affairs Walmart sells, which I’ve taken apart and reduced it to it's minimal parts: Pump, hose, and cigarette lighter cable long enough to reach either tire. It gets hot so I have to wear a glove when I hold it. I let it run for a few minutes before checking the tire pressure....good it's up to 10 psi, that means it is holding air. I continue to put more air in there, then put the bike together and ride to Carsbad slowly.

I stop at the first tire shop that I find that's open, and they say can't fix it but direct me to a new bike shop. I can't find it, but I found pancakes and a phone book at Denny's. There is one bike shop listed in Carlsbad, and I ride over there. It's a shop that builds custom bikes like on American Chopper. It's no help though, because even though they have the tools and skills to fix my tire, they don't have the right size valve stem. Where appearances is everything, these guys use very small valve stems, whereas the standard sportbike valve stem is larger and sturdier. They suggest an automotive tire stem might work, so I walk to the auto shop next door and explain my predicament to the lazy-eye'd mechanic. He gives me two stems- one rubber and one metal. I bring them back to the bike shop and tey said they'd never use a rubber one because they would pushed through the wheel, and they weren't sure the metal one would work until they took the bike apart. Ok, I need a real bike dealer. At least I can go 45 mph so I'm reluctant to take the wheel apart. I decide to hump along to Hobbs, where are Yamaha and Kawasaki dealers.

Back on the road, I head east to Hobbs. It is 70 miles and the weather is turning ominously wet. The clouds are dark and sometimes the pavement is wet. That's ok, I can count the miles in the rain too. But then I see flashes of lighting ahead, and realize I'm the tallest obstacle (i.e.conduit) for miles around. Shit. In car I would be safe, because a lightning strike to the car, would pass through the frame and into the ground (I think it's called Faraday-Cage). In grade school I was taught that the tires were good insulators but if lighting can arc miles from sky to ground why can't it arc the last four inches from the wheel rim to the ground? So much the quality of my public education, I guess I got what I paid for. Anyway, as I get closer to the storm I figure: don't be stupid. After crested a small hill nervously and riding to the bottom of it, I park the bike, and go sit in the ditch to get as low as possible. Better that lightning strike the bike than me. At least it's not raining, so I can read a little about Texas History on this PDA while I wait for the storm to pass. Tell me again why I chose this form of transportation.

After 30 minutes the storm's center passes north of the highway and I continue to Hobbs. There's another storm front blowing in the from south, and I can see lightning there too. I arrive safely in Hobbs, beating the next storm front, and find the Yamaha dealership. They have one mechanic, a German ex-air force technician, and says that for one hour of labor he'll put in a new valve stem. Since it only takes 20 minutes to mount and balance a whole tire I think this is steep, but supply and demand is in effect and I agree to it. While waiting I watch the weather channel and see a long series of thunderstorms passing through western Texas in the same direction I am planning to go. At this point I consider finding hotel even though it's barely noon and only have 300 miles to go. I call Jennifer and leave her a message, letting her know I'll at least be late tonight.

When the work is done and I'm at the cashier paying for it, she says "one hour for that? That's not right. Peter shouldn't be writing these up. I'm only going to bill you for half an hour". Whew, good, that's just $40. When I pick up the bike Peter and I chat a little, he says he's surprised to see a sportbike with this many miles on it - "Finally someone who rides their bike!" I have 46,000 miles on it, when most sportbikes are worn out or crashed long before then. For comparison to automobiles, touring bikes like GoldWings would be the same as cars, ST1100's would be about 2/3 i.e. 66,000 miles on an ST would be about equivalent to 100,000 miles on a car. For pure sportbikes like the GSXR-1000 and Honda CBR's it's morelike 1/4, where 25,000 miles would be about the same amount of wear as 100,000 miles on a car. The VFR is about 1/3, so 46,000 miles would be equivalent to about 140,000 miles on a car. I know of a 91 VFR in Seattle with 140,000 miles on it, and a couple in the 50,000 mile range, but it's still rare to see this many miles on a bike and I have to admit I take some pride when people comment on it.

By now the clouds have lightened up a little so I decide to make a run for it. Once on the road I realize how strong the wind is - surprisingly it is blowing from the northeast but the weather channel indicating the storm was moving from the southwest. Must be different layers in the air ... So I start looking for funnel clouds. Once in a while it rains big heavy drops, and while I only see lightning far in the distance, it is on my mind. It appears I am once again traveling between storm fronts. At least I am leaning left into the wind, so I can wear down the other side of the tire. At one point I found myself riding under blue sky, with dark clouds on all sides with a brown murkiness on the horizon. The hole in weather was about two miles wide, and it appeared to move with me. Or, if you don't agree that the world revolves around me, I was riding with the storm. Knowing that I'm in tornado country I keep looking for funnel clouds. Eventually I catch up with the storm front and find that the brown haze is dust - duh, I'm in the Oklahoma/Texas dust bowl and the drought isn't helping keep any of the dirt on fields. Despite the heat and humidity (85F) I close up all my helmet vents to keep dust out, but a fe\w kernels get in and I blink furiously to get them out of my eyes.

Why am I doing this!
Finally, around Lubbock I get out of the dust and stop for gas. The wind is blowing very hard. The trash can at the station is moving across the lot. The gas I'm trying get into my tank is occasionally blown out by the wind. To get out of the wind I stand behind the station and eat MRE Jalapeno Cheese spread on MRE Vegetable Crackers. Yum. Back on the bike, I realize that now I am moving WITH the wind! At 75mph it's like I'm riding in a bubble of air. There is no wind noise, my neck is not trying to keep my head from being torn off. There is no wind pressure on my chest. Wow. I can hear the cam-gears of the engine. There's no pressure on my chest taking the weight off my wrists. I must have the wind at my back, and it must be a 60+ mph wind!

Unfortunately this only lasts for about 50 miles. Eventually I catch up with the storm front, and find myself in a sandstorm. The air around me is a hazy brown, the same color as the dirt in the bare fields. I close up all my helmet vents to prevent dust from getting in my eyes and just ride through it. After about 20 miles I'm back in the sporadic rain, ahead of the storm, and skirting the northern edge of another. One hundred miles to go.

There isn't much to the scenery. It is mostly rolling hills with some small deciduous trees. Eventually this gave out to farmland,then Wichita Falls.

I finally made it!

I got to spend a few days in Wichita Falls with Jennifer. We took a day trip to Oklahoma City, another to Dallas.


We visited the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial .. this is a "must see" if you are ever there.


We also visited the Fort Sill Cemetary: