Build it and they will come, fear it enough and they’ll burn it down.
It was moments after taking this picture that I realised she wasn’t going to start again. I already knew that the starter was playing up and initially had left the engine running then decided that in the heat with no air flow this would soon cause other problems. I turned her off. I took some photos, I stretched my lungs, I put my jacket, helmet, gloves and rucksack back on then, click, rat-a-tat-a-tat-a went the solenoid as the gear failed to engage the starter ring in productive conversation.
This didn’t look good, I was far enough from civilisation that the military had deemed this a fit place for some sort of materials storage on a dead straight road between the Harquahala Mountains and Smith Peak. Cars and trucks were passing, sure had I stood and waved my arms in the international distress signal kind of way they would, I think, have stopped. Instead I went for plan B and waddled inelegantly astride the bike to build up a bit of speed before dropping the clutch in third gear, no joy, I lost fluids and a little hope but moved on to plan C. Hopping off the bike and pushing it from alongside then, at the moment of exhaustion once more dropping the clutch and prayed. She fired up, I relaxed gasping for air.
Plan E would have been to remove the luggage and most of my clothes and try again.
I rode into Wenden and found shade, at this point I thought that heat was the problem as it had only started happening since we’d left the mountains and the rain so I poured a little water over the hot starter and waited. No joy, no point in waiting any more I bumped her again.
Blythe had initially been my waypoint where I’d decide how much further was achievable and select a target motel and bar rich destination. I could have bailed and taken the interstate but wanting something more than just survival I stuck with the backroads plan and subsequently got a little lost in Parker where I met a garbage truck driver who suggested that an external oil cooler would help the overheating. Then crossing into CA over the Colorado river, or what is left after all the irrigation canals into Phoenix have had their way with it.
My first taste of Californian roads was a good one, Route 95 down into Blythe was a fantastic 40 mile twisting roller coaster, the bike’s first taste of Californian gas was an expensive one and then she refused to bump start on the Shell forecourt (damn their slippery concrete ways) so I booked into the Travelodge behind and made the walk of shame again pushing her all the way. ‘Heaven on Earth’ the lady running the motel agreed having told me it was ok to drink and smoke next to the empty cold pool.
I recuperated and was considering the Mexican restaurant next door when my friend Chaz texted me asking about the starter motor, she was fully cooled down now so I tried her again, rat-a-tat-a-tat-a, oh! There goes the heat theory, out came the spanners.
Stripped and tested the solenoid and motor appeared to be blameless so my thoughts turned to the battery and ground connection, off to O’Reilly Auto Parts for a charging system tester, a trickle charger, a 2′ earth lead and an 11mm (for the battery terminals) spanner. I tested the battery, as suspected it was good, no call for the charger, I fitted one end of the earth lead directly to the starter mounting bolt then the other to the loose, oh my goodness, battery terminal bolt. I think we have a winner! She starts!
I was so happy I drank another can of Budweiser and strolled out for some authentic Mexican supper. Blythe is my kind of town, great zoning with the motels, gas station, bars and restaurants all in walking distance on real sidewalks, no snakes that I saw.
Le Mans man 