Denton to Deadwood, 3 Dudes, 1 Day: Done!

[Valkpilot]

Short version:

Yoda, Disco, and I pulled out of the Racetrac at 380 and I-35 Wednesday morning at 4:00 am Central.

The mission: Complete an Iron Butt Association SaddleSore 1000 ride (1000 miles in 24 hours or less.)
The objectiive: Deadwood, SD

Mission accomplished.

Map miles for SS1000 certification: 1060.41
Arrival time in Deadwood, SD: 10:00 pm Central.
Elapsed time: 18 hours
Riding time: about 16 hours
Gas stops after initial fill-up: 9
Average stop time: about 15 minutes
Average speed including stops: 60 MPH
Average riding speed: 65 MPH

We cranked it out, y'all!

Long version with pictures to follow...

[Houdini]

Congrat's dudes ... wish I could have rode with y'all!

[Valkpilot]

Congrat's dudes ... wish I could have rode with y'all!

We missed you, Chuck.

[Ghillie]

maybe next time

[Daniel Meyer]

Zoom zoom! 

[RainMaker]

Congrats to the new Iron Men!!!

[godfire]

You were riding for BBQ....right....Was it good?

I've heard tales of Texans riding 1000 miles for good BBQ....Can't think of any other reason to tackle such a thing....Right Daniel?

[Doc809]

I did it for the patch to put on the vest and the sticker on the windshield.  Way to go, brother!  U have joined a special group. L

[HayHauler]

Congrats there Boys!  I don't know how you did it Dave, after 3 hard days in the saddle on the way back from IZX....  Maybe it was good practice?! 

Hay 
Jimmyt

[Valkpilot]

Congrats to the new Iron Men!!!

Amazing.

We have a picture that looks just like that from Mt Rushmore!

[BnB Tom]

   I think you all deserve a big, cold drink after a ride like that.

           


   

[chauffeur]

Great job gentlemen - Congrats.   Looking forward to seeing the pictures.

[RainMaker]

[Valkpilot]

Haven't had time or energy to do a detailed trip report with pics, but here's the synopsis so far:

Day Two:  Rode about 300 miles doing the tourist stuff in the Deadwood area; Mt Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial, Wall Drug, Sturgis Main Street.  Avoided a MONSTER storm that disabled vehicles along a five mile stretch of road.

Day Three: Rode to Sheridan, WY by way of Spearfish Canyon and property my Grandparents homesteaded on from 1919 to 1926 in Montana.  Disco struggled with tank venting problems.

Day Four: Rode from Sheridan intending to stop in Fort Collins, CO; ended up in Westminster, CO.  Residual bad gas from (we believe) two separate fill-ups caused my bike to badly (17 MPG or worse) most of the day.  Wrecked the schedule and took most of the fun from the ride, but passed the 2000 mile mark for the trip along the way.

More to follow...

[godfire]

...Residual bad gas....
More to follow...

Nothing worst than bad gas and a sore butt! 

You guys ride safe!

[BnB Tom]

...Residual bad gas....
More to follow...

Nothing worst than bad gas and a sore butt!  

You guys ride safe!

. . musta been the jalapenas . .

        you boys better bring em on home and fill up on some TEXAS food and fuel!

[Ghillie]

SEAFOAM!!!!

[Houdini]

Careful riding home dudes; you only think it was hot when you left and there are orange air quality alerts warning people to avoid outdoor activities.  Stay hydrated!

[Valkpilot]

...continuing:

Day Five: Rode from Westminster, CO to Aspen, CO via Rocky Mountain National Park and The Glenwood Canyon.  Amazing riding.  Got into heavy rain for about half the day, but fortunately not during the nice curvy bits.

Day Six: Fantastic riding out of Aspen with intentions of hitting Sante Fe, NM and then overnighting in Tucumcari, NM.  Valkpilot's bike quit running outside of Las Vegas, NM, resulting in tow truck ride.  Call outs to Howie the Jet on Day Four and Daniel Meyer on Day Six isolated bad gas and fuel supply issue as likely causes.

Day Seven: Followed Valkpilot's bike to Albuuerque to the closest"real" Honda dealer on the chance that a planned petcock repair (kit in the saddle bag) wouldn't fix things up and the bike would have to be left in the hands of the dealer.  Rebuild worked and bike ran flawlessly to Tucumcari for an unplanned overnight.  Meanwhile, JC had headed for home on schedule, but had a tire tread separate from the sidewall outside of Witchita Falls.  Towed and will be repaired tomorrow.

Trip has been a roller-coaster ride of fantastic highs and unbelievable frustrations.  Overall assessment:  We met and overcame every challenge and still had a great ride.  When we all unsaddle in our respective barns tomorrow, we'll have logged about 3500 incredible miles in just over seven days.

[BnB Tom]

The mission: Complete an Iron Butt Association SaddleSore 1000 ride (1000 miles in 24 hours or less.)
The objectiive: Deadwood, SD

Mission accomplished.

Arrival time in Deadwood, SD: 10:00 pm Central.

Your timing was excellent . .  look what you could've been in for . .

 

Deadwood Hail Storm August 3rd 2010 (1)	powered by Aeva

         

[Disco]

Our timing was excellent.  Look what we narrowly avoided (with help from the Weather Radio on our CBs). 

After a lllloooonnnngggg first day, Thursday morning was beautiful and perfect for some relaxed sight-seeing. 


The approach to Mt Rushmore was very impressive.


After Mt Rushmore, we went to the Crazy Horse monument.  If memory serves, it's been under construction since 1948 and still needs much more work.


After Crazy Horse, everything looked great, right?


Or did it?


As the road got wetter, we pulled over to suit up and this pickup and RV were on the side road.  The storm had passed in front of us just minutes before and left dozens of vehicles with some or all of their body panels destroyed and their windows smashed and/or completely broken out. 


For perspective...

[f-Stop]

Looks like you "Iron Butts" kicked butt!

Here's a side note about hail and South Dakota...
http://www.crh.noaa.gov/crh/pdf/073010RecordHailVivianSD.pdf

[Valkpilot]

DAY 1 PICS

We met at the RaceTrac at 380 and I-35 on the north side of Denton at 3:30 am.  (I know, I know, who in their right mind...?)  After filling out paperwork for the Iron Butt Association and filling up the tanks to get the official start times, we were KSU about 4:10 am. 

A Marine on leave served as our starting witness.





Tres Hombres



We had fantastic weather the entire ride.  Temps were about 78° F leaving Denton, peaked in the mid nineties in Kansas, and were in the mid sixties by the time we got to Deadwood.

Welcoming the sun:



Here's a picture of Oklahoma...or Kansas... or Nebraska.  Whatever.



The midpoint of the 1000 mile run was Hebron, NE.  Coincidentally, JC lives in Hebron Township.  Stranger than fiction, huh?





At a gas stop in South Dakota, we found the progeny of Jeff and Gary:


This flag was flying at the same gas station.  The picture is apropos of nothing. It just make me feel good.


The sun began to drop as we neared the turnoff for Deadwood.



Trail's End  (JC has already cleared the pumps and is parked at the door of the C-Store.)



The attendants at the gas station served as our finish-time witnesses, along with the check-in time printed on our hotel bill.

After checking into the hotel, we headed for Mustang Sally's, the only joint still open where we could get a drink and dinner both.  I give you the aftermath of 1060 miles in 18 hours:





All in all, a really good day.  Good weather, straight, empty roads, and sympatico riders made this SS1K relatively easy.   

Bun Burner 1500 anyone?

[Valkpilot]

Route taken:

[Valkpilot]

DAY TWO PICS

It rained during the night, but we woke to bright and sunny Black Hills skies.



We spent the day doing a leisurely 300 miles in the Deadwood area, hitting Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial, Wall Drug, and Sturgis.  The bikes were hard to start and we had some noticable power loss as we began to ride the hills.  Symptoms were typical of bad gas (presumably from last night's fill up) so we stopped and dumped some gas treatment in the tanks.  Symptoms cleared up and we went on our way.


Approaching Rushmore.



Rushmore literally takes your breath away and no picture or TV image can do it justice.  Still, here's the magnificent Mount:



And a shot that brings it home:



Tunneling our way toward Crazy Horse.



A little photo-artistry by Disco.  Crazy Horse, The Vision, juxatposed with Crazy Horse, The Reality.


As Disco documents above, we narrowly escaped a right pummelling by some fair-sized hail.  A half hour after the storm, the ground was still littered with baseball-sized stones.



We ate a late lunch at Wall Drug in Wall, SD.  JC and I took some time to try and make some time with the local wimmins.  (I'm pretty sure we've got a shot.)



Sturgis desperados.



The gentleman second from the left (the good-looking one) is a retired school teacher/firefighter from Sturgis.  He now owns  a wine & beer bar that's open year-around, unlike 80% of the store fronts in town, which are only open during the rally.  He designed the official Sturgis/Black Hills Rally logo in 1986 and donated the design to the city.  He gave off nasty vibes about counterfeit vendors and indicated that the city was about to strictly license "official" Sturgis rally merchandise.


Returning to Deadwood, we again sought out Mustang Sally's.  We ran into this gent and his sweetheart-to-be out on their first date.  In his own words, he lives "off the grid in a bunkhouse surrounded by cows."  He's a rodeo bronc rider who once rode across Nebraska on horseback following Merl Haggard's band because he likes to dance.  You'd think he's a Texan or something.



Life is good on the road.

[Baron]

Man, that must have been a blast.  Thanks for posting all the pics.

[Valkpilot]

Man, that must have been a blast.  Thanks for posting all the pics.

There's more to come.  We're only on Day 2 of 7 planned and 8 actual!

[BnB Tom]

OMG!

   It doesn't look like it can get much better than that.

             Except for the first day (waaaaay too long), it looks like it was a very coooool ride.

Lookin forward to the rest of the pics.



 

[Wanderer]

Thanks for sharing. Great ride report. Keep 'em coming, Dave! ~Jeff

[SideCar]

Good reports & pics

[jimnvalk]

Enjoyed the pics almost made me feel like i was there.  Almost    Keep them reports coming always looking for a place to ride

[Valkpilot]

DAY THREE PICS

We started out the day in the cemetery above Deadwood.  Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane, Seth Bullock are all buried there.


Wild Bill's grave



Calamity Jane left Deadwood after Wild Bill was murdered, but returned and her last request was to be buried next to Bill.


Seth Bullock was Deadwood's first sherrif and was instrumental in the town's development.  He was a good friend of Teddy Roosevelt and is responsible for a Roosevelt Memorial on a mountain opposite his grave site.


Looking across from Bullock's grave site


Looking down on Deadwood from the cemetery



A confident man, JC began exploring his pink side in the gift shop



We left Deadwood and headed northwest through Spearfish Canyon.  I've ridden the mountains of Kentucky, Tennesee, and South Carolina.  Nothing, nothing compared to this canyon ride and we don't have pictures that do it justice.  But here's a few anyway...





JC partaking.  After all, it's the water...


After Spearfish Canyon, we headed for Devil's Tower, which was the first National Monument.  It's a startling sight from a distance, and downright spooky close up.

On approach


Closer


Disco appears somewhat bewildered that JC chose this particular time to begin disrobing.  Hopefully it has nothing to do with the pink episode earlier.


After ice cream at Devil's Tower (sort of a contradiction, don' you agree?) we pointed the bikes toward Montana.  

Along the way, 50 miles from nowhere in all directions, we found this:




Yikes! That's SAM battery!



Our reason for heading into Montana was mentioned earlier.  From 1916 to 1926 my maternal grandparents homesteaded in the southeast corner of Montana, renting the land from the owner, I'm assuming with an intent to eventually buy him out.  Both of my oldest aunts were born there and tell stories of Native Americans watching them through the windows as they washed dishes.  However, they returned to southern Illinois and bought their own farm after 10 years apparently because the climate in Montana didn't agree with my Grandmother.


We only had latitude and longitude coordinates to the homestead.  It doesn't have an address. The GPS wanted us to take this track through the fields.  Here's a shot of JC trespassing after he took down the gate to scout ahead.  We decided to keep looking for a better way onto the property.


This is more like it?  Two and a half miles of dirt road.


This 79 year old youngster is the son of the man who bought the property in 1931.  His father worked the land from 1932 until his death, and his son is taking over from him.  Nothing but hay and cattle for three generations, and the ranch has been expanded to 26,000 acres.  He dismounted a combine to talk to us and thought JC's GPS was the greatest thing since sliced bread, both inventions witnessed in his lifetime.


This is the original bunkhouse my grandfather built.  It's been recently re-sided.


Grandpa also built the log portion of the barn.



Behind the barn



After the homestead, we headed for Sheridan, WY to bed down for the night.  Disco's bike stalled out not long after we left.  This was a repeat of an episode on Day 2.  He burped the tank and we moved on.  When he had his CB checked out at Clay's Radio in Weatherford, they kinked the vent hose.  Rather than pull the tank, he just used his spare key and burped the tank every few miles.

By the way.  If you are ever in Sheridan, WY and you are tempted to stay at the Aspen Motel, DON'T.  Nuff said.

[Valkpilot]

DAY FOUR PICS

Yesterday turned out to be a pretty long day, so we got a slow, lazy start on Day 4.  Did some laundry, washed the red Montana dirt off the bikes at a nearby car wash, and took our time at breakfast.

We gassed up, and I took the lead out of town.  As soon as I hit the first hill, the bike began losing power and missing.  I pushed on, but the bike kept running badly so we stopped at a station about 50 miles down the road.  More bad gas, we figured, so more gas treatment in the tank.  But the bike was running REALLY badly, backfiring and blowing back smoke.  We decided to try and get to Casper where there was a Honda Powersports dealer.  Along the way, I tried to clear the carb bowls by turning the petcock to off and running until the bike died, then turning it back on.  This seemed to work and when we pulled into Casper, it was running fine.  The Honda dealer had their best GL1500 mechanic come out and listen to the bike, but it was running well at that time and it seemed OK.  We figured the plugs were probably fouled, what with the earlier mis-firing and all, so I bought a set of new plugs.

We ate at great Mexican restaurant in Casper, which turned out to be a highlight of the day.

Motoring out of town, we aimed for a rest stop so I could change the plugs in shade and safety.  Just before the rest stop we passed a couple of riders who followed us into the rest area.

These boys were the real Iron Men of the trip.  They'd started out in Atlanta and had ridden to British Columbia for a rally and were now on their way back.  They were riding 1970's era 750cc and 850cc Nortons with the original seats and suspensions.  No windscreens or other comforts at all.  What they didn't know about bikes, I believe, wouldn't fill a thimble.  We kicked tires, talked about my problem, and loaned them a shock adjustment tool to boost the ride of one of the bikes.



I look pregnant in these pics.  I hope I deliver soon.



After the rest stop, we stopped again to fill up, so the Nortons got ahead of us.  As we passed them again, they flagged down Disco to ask him if we had enricheners on our bikes, and if so, for me to check and see if mine was sticking.  One of them had been thinking about my problem all along.  Truly great guys.

Well, the new plugs didn't do it and the bike began to run badly again, so much so that I ran out of gas outside of Cheyenne, WY.  Disco went for a gas can and some go-juice while JC and I stayed by the side of the road and try to further diagnose the problem.  A call out to Howie the Jet talked us through draining the carb bowls and provided advice to quit using standard gas treatments and put some Heet in the tank.  Howie says that only Heet has sufficient alcohol content to clear a really healthy water contamination problem.  He also told me to quit buying premium gas as the six degree trigger wheel doesn't require it.

Disco returned with the gas and the bike fired right up and got me to Cheyenne.  We filled up, dumped some Heet in my tank and were off.  The bike appeared to be running fine now.  Our intent was to stay in Cheyenne, but the big rodeo was in town so there were no rooms.  We headed south toward Denver.  No rooms along the way, either.  

Finally, at one place that was turning us away, I jumped on the lobby computer and used my frequent traveler status to secure the last two rooms at a Hampton Inn in Westminster, CO, a suburb of Denver.  Another hour's ride, it was 10:00 pm, and we hadn't eaten dinner yet.  So, we went to a local steakhouse for sustenance, then headed to Westminster.

It was a long, frustrating day.  I think there was a lot of nice scenery, but I was so focused on the bike I missed most of it.  But a day on the bike under any conditions is better than one off the bike, so who's complaining?

[BnB Tom]

It was a long, frustrating day.  I think there was a lot of nice scenery, but . .

                                                      

The Three Amigos Canteen/Lip Balm scene	powered by Aeva

 . . when surrounded by friends, most anything is tolerable.

[Valkpilot]

 . . when surrounded by friends, most anything is tolerable.

You don't know the half of it!

[Valkpilot]

DAY FIVE PICS


We headed out from Westminster for Estes Park, CO and from there through the Rocky Mountain National Park.  The bikes were running fine.

It was a morning of spectacular scenery and twisty mountain roads.




Note the gas can strapped to my bike, a reminder of problems past, we thought.










I don't know what JC and Dave had cooking with these two when I rolled up but...


...all it got them was our picture taken.  I don't think it helped that I absent-mindedly tried to hand one of them my half-smoked stogie instead of the camera.


Just over 12,000 feet elevation.


Mountain lake outside of Winter Park, CO




In Winter Park, we donned the rain gear and within a few miles were in some pretty serious rain, which continued until we were just outside Glenwood Canyon, one of the most impressive stretches of Interstate highway in the U.S.  The cameras were all still under the rain gear, so I had to pull some images from the web.

Glenwood Canyon, Colorado - a drive through its tunnels along Interstate 70	powered by Aeva

The rain started on us again outside of Glenwood Canyon, and continued all the way into Aspen, our destination for the night.   JC scouted a hotel and we checked in, parked, and unloaded in the downpour.  The only parking available was in a gravel parking lot -- with 6 inch deep pea gravel.  As soon as you stopped moving, the wheels sank to the rim.  We had to push each other into place.  During this exercise, my NEW kickstand spring bolt broke.  I'd replaced it as a precaution two weeks before. #$(*&@#$

After arranging all the wet gear so it could dry out in the rooms, we had a late dinner and drinks at a local pub, then slept like the rocks themselves.

[Wanderer]

Great ride report. Thanks for sharing! ~Jeff

[Ghillie]

wow i took that exact same picture of the valley at RMNP two weeks before you did

[Valkpilot]

wow i took that exact same picture of the valley at RMNP two weeks before you did

What are the odds?

[Valkpilot]

DAY SIX (and part of DAY SEVEN) PICS

Strap yourselves in, this is a long one.

Woke up early, went out to the parking lot and found my kickstand spring and the broken bolt laying in the gravel.  Both Dave and JC had a spare bolt in their bags (I had a spare spring, too), so 20 minutes under the bike with Disco holding it upright had my kickstand right as last night's rain.

We were KSU about 8:30 am and headed out of Aspen toward Independence Pass and points south.  Intended destination for the night's stay was Tucumcari, NM, with a stop in Santa Fe to smoke a cigar on the square.

The first half of the day was great with nothing but good weather and great roads and scenery.


Leaving Aspen




20 MPH?!?  I don't think so...








The WAHOO factor was large today.











About now is when things got interesting.  My bike begins to run badly again.  Same symptoms: loss of power and misfiring.  We push on.  Finally, about 30 miles outside of Las Vegas, NM it loses power completely and dies on the shoulder.  It's late afternoon and we can't afford to lose much time or we won't make Sante Fe let alone Tucumcari.

Initial asssesment: I'm out of gas again; we can't hear anything slosh in the tank. (Of course there's a gale-force crosswind blowing -- who can't hear in that?)

But our experience of a couple of nights ago tells us not to stay on the shoulder if we can help it.  Motorcyclists get killed that way.  There's a rest stop only about a quarter mile away.  Uphill. Naturally.  We start pushing.  I tell the boys to leapfrog their bikes ahead.  While they do that, I keep pushing.  I think I'm having a heart attack.  Partly, it's the anxiety of not knowing what's wrong and also of screwing up the trip for JC and Disco.  "MY BIKE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK DOWN!" shouts one of the voices in my head.

Pushing is hopeless. So...JC borrows a ratchet strap from a couple in an RV at the rest stop.  I've got Sof-Ties in my bags, so we rig a tow strap from my engine guards to JC's trailer hitch.

JC looks like he's about to enjoy this far too much.  I reckon I look a little more grim. [MY BIKE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK DOWN!]


This insanity actually worked.  Stopping when we were at the rest area got a little western on us, but we pulled it off without pulling off an engine guard.

Earlier JC and Disco had tried to borrow some gas from the RV couple, but their siphon pump was not working.  By now, it's dusk and we've written off Sante Fe.  JC departs with the gas can (I didn't fill it because the bike had been running OK and I thought all the nasty unpleasantness was behind us.)

Disco and I take off the tank and discover it still has a gallon or two of gas in it.  Hmmmm.  Something more insidious than bad gas is at work here.  We've been through about every other alternative, so we finally decide it might be the petcock.  I've got a cover set in the bag, so we set about rebuilding it, using the lid of a trash barrel as a workbench.  In the gloom we can't see anything wrong with the old diaphragm.  The wind is actually blowing the screws off our workbench so we work as fast as we can (by flashlight) to finish putting the new petcock cover set in and getting the tank back on.

The bike fires up.  High fives.  Now we wait for JC to return. After a 60 mile round trip, JC shows up with a can of gas and news that his wife has booked us hotel rooms in Las Vegas, NM.  We're not making it to Tucumcari tonight.

We put the gas in and head out.  About a mile down the road, I lose power and the bike dies on the shoulder. I say bad things.

We're at a loss as to the problem.  [MY BIKE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK DOWN!]  We filddle with it, checking connections, etc.  It won't start.  Finally, we decide to call AAA and have it towed to Las Vegas.  I do this while Disco and JC try and get enough signal to call Daniel Meyer.  AAA launches a tow truck alleged to arrive in 30 minutes.

If we stand in one particular spot on one leg with one eyebrow cocked and our pinkies just so, we can talk to Daniel.  We go through what's been done.  The one thing we don't have with us is a voltage meter, so checking spark with a measurement device is out.  We do it the old fashioned way and I discover I'm a pretty good path to ground for the ignition system of a Valkyrie.  We've got spark.

What we don't have is fuel in the carb bowls.  Fuel flow is the issue.  Daniel is convinced it's the petcock, even though we just rebuilt it.

By now it's been 45 minutes. I call AAA again.  They contact the tow driver and he says he's only 15 minutes away.  We decide not to do any more work on the shoulder and stay safely on the grass, our backs to the cougars and coyotes sneaking up on us through the fields to the west, but facing the more immediate potential danger of 80,000 lbs of semi crashing into our bikes at 80 MPH.

Thirty minutes later the tow truck shows up.  It's about 10:00 pm now.  The driver turns out to be a great guy and we get the bike loaded.  He asks where we want it towed.  I tell him to take it to the Honda dealer in Las Vegas.  When he recovers from his fit laughter, he tells us the closest Honda dealer is probably in Santa Fe.  We tell him to drop it at the hotel.

I'm upset at all the trouble I feel I'm imposing on the others.  [MY BIKE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK DOWN!]

The shame:


On the way to the hotel, the tow driver suggested leaving the bike on the truck and taking it to Sante Fe the next day because if we dropped it at the hotel and couldn't get it running in the morning, AAA would not process a repeat call for the same VIN within the same 24 hour period.  We'd be stuck.  We talked it over at the hotel and agreed this was the best option available.

We checked into the hotel having not eaten since breakfast.  The desk clerks were great and heated up some chicken tortilla soup and hauled out some sweet rolls and fruit for us.  It's nearly midnight.  

I start looking on the internet for the Honda dealer in Santa Fe.  There isn't one.  There's a dealer in Santa Fe that sells every metric except Honda.  The closest Honda dealer is in Albuquerque.

Despite our fatique and my near depressive coma, this li'l darlin' cheered us up some


She's the daughter of the desk clerk and was one of the most well mannered and well behaved children I've encounted in a long while. (You don't meet the cream of the crop on the airplanes in which I spend my much of my work time.)  I'd post her picture in the "Valk Women" thread on the General Board, but I don't want MSNBC camped outside my door.


In spite of signifcant need, I didn't sleep. The voices, The Voices, THE VOICES wouldn't stop: MY BIKE's NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAKDOWN! WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY BIKE? IT MUST BE SOMETHING SIMPLE! BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT? IT HAS TO BE THE PETCOCK! BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT? MY BIKE'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BREAK DOWN! IT HAS TO BE THE PETCOCK! BUT WE REBUILT THE PETCOCK! IT STILL HAS TO BE THE PETCOCK! BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT?

And behind the lead singer, the chorus crooned: YOU'RE SCREWING UP THE RIDE. THEY'RE GOING TO MAKE A WASTED TRIP TO ALBUQUERQUE. YOU'RE SCREWING UP THE RIDE.

You get the idea.

The next morning I called the dealer in Santa Fe hoping they had some Honda expertise.  I told them it was a Valk and explained the situation.  They said, "Don't bring it here."  I found a Honda Powersports dealer in Albuquerque listed on the Honda web site.  We told the truck driver to take it there.

I called ahead and they were expecting us.  I rolled the bike into a very new looking dealership and the three mechanics marveled at the beast now crouching amongst the 50cc scooters (I'm not joking) they were working on, pointing at the rear and asking, "Is that a car tire?"  They'd been open two weeks and the manager just moved over from a Yamaha dealership.  Oh hell, we're in trouble.

My fears were pretty much unfounded.  They were experienced and certified mechanics, new to the dealership, but not to Hondas.

But the good news is that the manager graciously agreed to let us work on the bike out back to see if we could fix it before turning it over to him, and me arranging for a flight or rental car home.  He let us pick the brains of his mechanics and his mechanics loaned us a spark plug tool.

We pulled the tank and dismantled the petcock.  Sure enough in the dark, the wind, and the fog of fatigue, we had wrinkled the diaphragm when we reassembled the petcock.  [IT HAS TO BE THE PETCOCK! BUT WHAT IF IT'S NOT? UP YOURS, IT'S ALWAYS THE PETCOCK!] We put it back together correctly, pulled vacuum, and watched fuel gush from the petcock outlet.  I cleaned the plugs, we put the tank back on, and the bike jumped to life.

The dealer didn't charge anything, so I bought a few items to make it worth his while.  (Anyone need a brand new set of spark plugs?  Also, HondaGloss is a fantastic product for removing scratches and swirls from your paint.  I'd have never tried it except for this incident. Silver lining, huh?)

Rather than just jump on I-40 and get out of Dodge...er...Albuquerque, we cruised around the vicininty of the dealer a little bit and had lunch.  So far, so good, so we gassed up and headed out.

Wait. Back up.  At the gas station was a helo pilot from the local base staring glumly at a 750 Shadow Spirit with a flat rear tire with a BA screw sticking out of it.  Disco hauls out the tire plug kit and proceeds with Roadside Tire Repair 101.  Then we noticed it's a spoked wheel.  Which means inner tube.  Which means no tire plug will work.  Sure enough, air leaked out the spoke openings faster than we could pump it in.  As we left, the airman was calling a buddy to pick him up so he could go home and get his flatbed trailer.

NOW, we're on the road to Tucumcari.