[ST] My Day in Hell

[pattib@xxxxxxxxxx]

This morning I left Bakersfield around 9:30, headed for Vegas via
Death Valley.  I had a bottle of water in my luggage, and a Camelbak
filled with ice water (OK, mostly ice.)  I stopped in Inyokern for
breakfast, then headed into Death Valley.

As I'm descending from the mountains, Booh stalls.  Same symptoms as
before-- temp and gas gauges flatlined, the two yellow lights (low
fuel and ??) on but very dim, won't start.  I pull over, screw with
wires for a bit, and he starts.  A couple of miles later he stalls...
this time, I coast down the hill and the gauges come back, and just
pop the clutch.

I repeat this about ten more times over the course of 15 miles, at
which point I decide to bag it.  I'm also not feeling well-- it's
extremely hot, I'm in full riding gear, I'm getting a headache, and
I'm feeling pretty wiped out.  I flag down the first vehicle I see,
which happens to be a guy who runs a motorcycle rental company.  He's
headed the opposite direction, but offers to let me cool off in the
van while he flags down a car going the right way.


He does-- a couple of Dutch tourists.  (He also happens to be Dutch,
though I didn't get his name or the name of his company.)  They give
me a ride to Stovepipe Wells, at which point I head for the general
store, pour 40 oz of Gatorade into myself, and then sit in the air
conditioning for 20 minutes until I'm functional.  At that point I
call a Triumph dealer in Vegas and explain my predicament... they give
me the number of a towing company who will make the trip, and say they
can look at the bike within the next couple of days.

So I sit and wait... and wait... and wait... there's not a whole lot
to do here.  About three and a half hours later, the tow truck shows
up, and we head up the hill five miles or so to the bike.

Big flatbed.  He suggests I roll or ride it up so that it's just over
the edge, then he'll tilt the bed up and we can roll it the rest of
the way forward.  I point out that the bike is running, so I can ride
it all the way up.  OK.  I do.  But the tires won't stick to the
flatbed, I slide all the way down to the bottom, and then lose it--
the bike goes over and into the gravel.  Dammit.  

There damage is very minor-- just a few tiny scratches.  We get the
bike up, and then load it onto the truck.

Three and a half hours, and $400 later, Booh is parked at a Triumph
dealership in Las Vegas.  I'm totally beat.  

My definition of hell-- 110 degrees, 200 miles from civilization, and
a dead bike.

- -Patti

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