Long bike ride

I found myself in a unique situation a couple of months ago - I had a block of time with which to do whatever I wanted for the first time in a couple of decades. No critical role to fill at work, no pressing responsibilities on the farm. The kids were off working and happy to finally have some post lockdown freedom living their own lives.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, so I thought about it for about 3 seconds and decided I was going to take a long bike (motorcycle) ride. I’d originally said - ahh maybe two weeks. Turned into over a couple months, I'm not mad about it.

This a wall of text - so just be aware it might take a bit if you’re inclined to read it, and there’s no like - real conclusion.

DAY 1

I grabbed a surplus UK bergen I use for summer hiking & camping trips, took out the stuff that would get me in trouble at the border and added some extra freeze dried food. It had the basics for not dying, water purification, wood processing, fire starting and a tent and mat. I threw out the sleeping bag because it was crazy hot everywhere - won’t be needing that. Strapped the bag to the back of the bike, and it almost kind of matched the green of the bike - mind you I’m red/green colourblind.

Said my goodbyes, smooched my cats & dogs and set out heading east.

DAY 2

I stopped in Toronto for the night, and when I went to start the bike the morning of day 2 all I got was a whirring noise. So I tried again, and again, and a couple few dozen times after that. Not the best start to my second day.

I called up my default Toronto motorcycle guy, at Ted Rose of Rosey Toes. Told him about the problem and he told me to take it to Wildside. I’d vaguely heard of them, so called them up and they said “bring it in”. Okay, so the problem I had was the problem I had to solve before I could get it looked at - I needed to get it started. I tried hooking up a battery booster, I tried banging on the starter motor, I tried kind language, I tried a stream of expletives. Nope. A tow truck might be available late afternoon, after a couple calls.

I was going to have to bump start this thing. I’ve done it once before, and it was miserable. The bike is a 1997 Road King, with a weight of 715lbs/325kg. To bump start it, you run alongside the bike until you’re pushing it as fast as you think you can, then jump on it, pull in the clutch, drop it into gear and let out the clutch with the aim being the momentum you have built will spin the rear wheel fast enough to turn over the engine and act as a starter motor.

It was pretty warm out, I started my bump starting runs with all the gear on, helmet, black synthetic jacket and leather gloves. After about 10 attempts the helmet came off. Not too many attempts followed before the jacket and gloves came off as well. 

There was a slight incline in the parking lot, so after each attempt to go fast there would be a slow push back up the incline to where I started. Each time I would experiment, the clutch dropped in an instant or gently let out. Choke all the way out or partially in. Staying off the gas or giving it some throttle. 15 minutes in there were some spectators, not sure if they were there to see if I was going to drop the bike, or to cheer if I got it started. 

45 minutes or so in, I wondered why my mouth was so dry. Uh oh. I left the bike unlocked and all my possessions in a pile next to it. If someone managed to start and steal the bike at this point they’ve earned it. Grabbed four electrolyte beverages from a nearby store, reasoning it might be good to have a few spares on hand for the trip. I drank them all before my next bump start attempt. 

While enjoying my cool beverages I realized I’d always bump started by putting a bike in second gear, and briefly wondered if I should try 1st or 3rd. One of them might help. Googled it and third gear might help, 1st would be no help at all.

Well rested with liters of cool blue sloshing around in my stomach, I tried again and used 3rd gear - success! The bike roared to life and I did some helmetless (crime) victory laps around the parking lot. I let it warm up for a very long time, aware that if I stalled it or came off the choke too fast I’d have the joy of repeating this procedure. I dropped off all my luggage and gear where I was staying, I clearly wasn’t leaving town today with a new starter needed.

The ride out to Etobicoke felt glorious, the wind cooling me down and having the machine move me instead of vice versa still being a delightful novelty. When I got to the shop I spoke with Dave and Mike and told them about the situation. They offered me something to drink while waiting to get the bike looked at. 

Sat down and chatted and was generally having a pleasant time when another Dave came by. I said “Hey do you want to see a broken motorcycle?”, he retorted with “I’ve got plenty of broken motorcycles”, gesturing to the sea of bikes in various states of repair in the shop.

We walked out front, and as I was explaining to him the noise it was making and what a pain bump starting it was he turned the ignition, pressed the starter and it jumped to life. I protested “no it’s broken I swear”. He repeated this process 4 more times and every time it worked. I swore at the bike.

The sixth try it was different, it made the sound and didn’t start. I wasn’t crazy! It continued to perform erratically, but the bike definitely liked Dave more than me. 

I was surprised to hear they were going to be able to have a go at the bike today. I was invited to have a seat, and honestly the day turned around on a dime. I was fed, kept hydrated and treated to some ukulele and guitar performances by the team as they worked. They then said they would play a Loren song. I tilted my head to the side, Loren like - beard, bike and banjo Loren? We figured out it was indeed the same Loren. Loren was an early mentor of mine and my CIO when I was working at Lavalife, oh, 20+ years ago - wow, small world. 

Turns out, they didn’t have the right starter motor in stock. So one was made out of several different starters they did have. By this time it was 5:45 and the shop closed at 6. The new starter wouldn’t mount up the way the old one did. I said “I can come back tomorrow”, they said they’d get me on the road today. And after the fabrication of a custom bracket the new starter was installed and the bike was up and going, the guys stayed hours after closing to make that happen. I couldn’t believe it.

By this time in the evening a chill had developed, and because I couldn’t ever fathom being cold again after the sweltering work this morning I hadn’t brought mine. Mike offered me his riding jacket, which I declined. Inside I was like, how can someone who I met today be this kind to me? He offered again - and I realized it would be nice to have my arms covered on the chilly ride back into the west end and I should get over myself. The ride to where I was staying would have been miserably cold without the jacket (thanks Mike!).

DAY 3 - 75 (we've gotta do a tl;dr)

I spent the night in Toronto again and swung by to drop the jacket off (and settle up) the next morning. I was good to go, and on my way. Cutting this short. I hit the Atlantic, the Gulf Coast, the Pacific and a lot in between. On a whim I decided I'd try to make it to the Arctic Ocean, but stopped short. It turns out riding the Dempster highway is not something done on a whim. Everyone else heading that way had at least a couple spare tires - mine were already in rough shape (nevermind not having any spares, and a fuel range woefully short of what's required).

Mentally, I’d made peace with the idea of this bike bursting into flames on this trip and having to hike my way to the nearest town and eventually fly home. But every time something went wrong, the kindness of other people got me back on the road. This was a pattern that repeated itself over, and over again for the next couple of months - too many times to mention. At Gearheads in Indiana when I’d broken spokes on my wheel and they didn’t have a replacement,  Drew drove back to his home to get me a wheel he personally owned to get me back on the road. At Redbeard Cycles in New Orleans they got me in for an overdue oil change before the day started, since they were fully booked months out. I’m forgetting more than I remember in terms of the help I got, but it was a lot.

So, by the numbers

• ~17,000+ KM (odometer broke!)
• ~ 22 states
• 5 provinces
• 2 Territories
• 1 new starter
• 1 running out of gas
• 1 new ignition pick-up
• 1 night sleeping under a bridge
• 1 improvised roadside carburetor rebuild
• 1 clogged fuel filter
• 1 new gas cap (you know what’s cool - when your gas cap breaks locked closed)
• 2 sets of tires
• 3 oil changes
• 1 egregious beard (long enough to both go up my nose, and get in my eyes while riding)
• 1 new non airborne altitude record (14,000 feet at Pike's Peak)
• 1 tornado (heck of a Canada day, riding at a 30 degree lean to go straight)
• 3 floods
• 5 forest fires
• 1 freak hail storm & lightning strike at camp
• 3 turtles helped across the road
• ??? Bison, Bear and Moose sightings (stopped counting)
• 4 days with my sister, brother in law and nieces (thanks for fixing my petcock Nima!)

Waaay too much went on for me to capture it all here but the kindness of strangers kept me on the road. People let me use their home garage to do basic maintenance. Steve (who I’d never met before) pulled a part of his own bike so I could replace a failing part on mine (I ordered a replacement, but it was going to take a week to arrive). It also felt like I was never more than a few days removed from a natural disaster of some sort. 

Okay fine conclusion:

• People are mostly very kind, and want to help.
• Go have an adventure, prepare but don’t go nuts. Leave some things to chance.
• Quote from a friend “2023, if it’s not flooded it’s on fire” - felt very true.

I didn't take a ton of pictures, since I was busy with either riding or doing stuff, but here's some photos I did take.

And lastly - don't worry it's gone now: