May 1/15
We wake to a cool clear morning and waste no time loading up, get some fuel and hit the road. Delta quickly falls behind as we shoot past the ranches and grazing cattle rolling west on Hwy 50 The Lonliest Road In America' to today's destination, Reno, Nevada.
The landscape begins to change getting harsher as the trees shrink, the grass becomes scrub and we're into desert conditions. The elevation is in the 6,000' range and rises and falls while we run fast on the straight-aways, sweep the curves and skip through twisty canyons.
Drama time. The air is cool and somewhere just east of the Nevada state line, Lori, who's in the lead, pulls over to the side of the road on some gravel to hook up her heated vest. No problem as I sit on my bike and wait for her. Lori's bike is on a slight incline to her right and as she goes to plant her foot her boot slips on the gravel and oh-oh...Wahine's down! She took a nasty tumble, the bike came with her and pined her leg. Action stations as I scramble off my bike and rush around and shut off her engine and lift the bike enough to allow her to pull her foot out from underneath. This is horror movie time with all kinds of thoughts screaming through my mind. "Are you OK?" "Yes. I think so." That's a good start. "Where does it hurt?" "My foot." 'OK. Can you stand?" I'm helping her up and she can't put any weight on her foot. I'm trying to get her to sit on a rock while I go to right the bike. Lori, ever the warrior woman, pitches in to help and we get the bike up on it's stand. Lori, who's standing but still limping, has no other apparent and immediate injuries. Now we go to assess the bike. The aptly named crash bar took the brunt of the fall as did the hand protector on the handlebar. These two pieces saved the turn signals, brake lever and pedal, engine housing and the gas tank and all it's trim. I fire up the engine which immediately responds, check all the lighting, steering and front end. All appears to be A-OK.
We assess our situation. On the personal injury list Lori's boot took the hit. The wasn't any cut to the thick leather so there wasn't likely to be a cut to her foot, hopefully just some bruising. We're in the middle of nowhere with no real services for a long way so the boot stays on because we know her foot is going to swell like a balloon once the boot comes off and we may not get it back on so the old coach in me advised her to 'walk it off'. Although limping Lori sucks it up and wants to ride and see how it goes.
That's why they call them crash-bars.
Just some scuffing.
Crash bars and a armour padded riding jacket saved Loris elbow. So for all you kids and newbies out there; wear your protective gear. It will save you from worse injuries.
We hit the road and continue on to the state line. Loris appears to be riding fine, although from time to time I see her extend and stretch her leg out. I pull up along side and give her an inquisitive thumbs-up. Lori points to where the rear view mirror used to be. Used to be? WTF? Sh reached down and holds up the errant mirror. I can't understand how the lefthand mirror could have been damaged during the fall as the bike lay on it's right side. We shrug and continue on down the road to the Nevada state line. where we find a gas station, convenience store, restaurant, bar and casino all rolled into one. It's coffee time and assess the side mirror. No biggie as it's simply come unscrewed. It's on a left-handed thread and while adjusting it Lori pushed a little too hard and the mirror came out. Lori's in the store, walking a bit better, and I tackle the mirror. There is another motorcyclist yakking with me who ponders how anyone, while riding, could unscrew their mirror and grab it before it falls on the road. I look at him and all I can say is, "You don't know my wife."
The mirror is a quick fix, Lori's feeling a bit better and we make a plan to carry on. The next town is Ely (E-lee). Lori's feeling better, she's a toughie, so we decide to continue on with the original plan and steam on to Reno.
Fuel up in Ely, another coffee and yak with the folks in the Chevron station. I notice this station is on the Shoshone Nation reserve and see signs informing customers they must have their tribal cards to get their fuel discount. Fuel discount? My mind springs to attention and ask the attendants, who save for one cashier, are all Shoshone, if Lori's Canadian Metis card is honoured there. They are friendly folk and quite interested in her card and pass it around. One fellow goes off to phone the band financial officer and returns with a thumbs-up; her card is welcome there. Now for the kicker. We've...already...paid! Doh! The Chevron folk feel bad and give Lori a big flavoured coffee to soften the blow.
Fuel stop. Shoshone Reserve, Ely, NV.
Saddling up we continue west all the while soaking up the incredible desert scenery; canyons, mesas, buttes, tumble weed and wide open skies. Next town is Eureka, about seventy miles west of Ely. Entering town I notice a deli off to my left so I make a quick U-ie and we're in the parking lot. I'm hungry and feel like taking a break and it's also a good opportunity to take another assessment of Lori's heel.
We're in the deli, and I'm looking around. Something is not adding up here. Now, insert your best Outer Limits theme whistle here. We're in a town in the middle of Shoshone lands. The two gals at the deli counter are Amish, the manager is a fast talking guy with a Philly accent and the customers are Jewish...oh and a there's a Native guy and a couple of miners in the back. Interesting place. What an interesting assortment of cultures; everybody is friendly, the food is yummy, the prices are reasonable and I'm a happy guy. Lori, although quite tender, is feeling a bit better. I really have admiration for her; she takes a spill, gets hurt, hobbles to her feet to help get her bike up, sucks it up and hops back on ready to ride another 400 miles across the desert on the 'Lonliest Road in America'. Incredible!
Out in the parking lot and it's oh-oh time again. There is a tell-tale puddle of oil underneath Lori's bike. I lay in the dust and poke around and find oil dripping from high up in the engine area which doesn't make any sense to me. The sump and the oil pump are both located low on the bike and were protected by the crash bar. The forks are all OK, no leaking there, the reservoirs for the brakes and clutch are all at proper levels and secure as is the filler plug and level indicator on the engine sump. I clean it up with a rag figuring the oil, which obviously appeared after and as a result of the fall is not indicitive of any major damage...at least I don't think so.
We carry on to Austin where we fill up the tanks and check the oil again. Yup. There is that nasty drip on the ground. We start the engine while I check for leakage while running but there is no evidence of any issue and the sump level has not moved. Onward we go and this issue is driving me nuts. I'm worried about Lori's foot. I can't figure where the oil came from when the bike tipped, can we get it fixed in Reno? Is it serious? How how will it take? What if we have to leave the bike there, put Lori on a plane, I ride home alone, who can I ask with a truck to come back to Reno with me on a weekend and pick the bike up, maybe they'll fix it and I'll fly down and ride it back. What if the oil suddenly pours out causing the engine to seize and pitching an already wounded Wahine into the desert or much worse into oncoming traffic. What if?.....What if?...What if? I'm really worried but it helps the miles roll by. I just want to get to Reno, get Lori's foot on ice or to the hospital, get the bike fixed...not a fun ride I can tell you.
In Fallon we stop for a cold drink as the temperature is now 30 degrees Celsius are I'm swimming in my riding jacket. We get on the phone to the Suzuki dealer in Reno who tells me it's their busiest time of year, they're down to four techs and the shop is backed up for at least a week to a week and a half. Just what I wanted to hear. I explain our situation, that we're a long way from home, yadda, yadda, yadda. He agrees to looking at the bike in the AM and give us an assessment, however; if if requires work, parts etc......"Well we're backed up. It's our busiest time of year".
Not feeling overly reassured we bear down for the last sixty miles to Reno and the motel we have booked in advance. Check in is easy, the clerk is very friendly and gets us a quiet room way in the back. We commit for two nights but tell him we may be here for a few days if we have serious mechanical and medical issues. Once in the room we get Lori's boot off and it's not ugly looking but it ain't pretty either. It's swollen and bruised. I scrounge up some ice pronto and we get her foot up and on ice. Next I go off hunting and gathering for cold refreshing beverages; a couple of Pepsi's for me and some Bud for our injured patient. I get on line searching other, perhaps more forthcoming bike dealers but theses guys are the only game in town. I check with Lori, who after the icing and a couple of Buds informs me that she is feeling much better, thank you very much. There is an Indian restaurant attached to the motel and is emanating some wonderful aromas so we surrender and make our way down for dinner. Lori orders the server's favourite, goat curry and I opt for the chicken vindaloo which is very tasty.
Back in the hotel I'm still thinking about the oil issue, oh there is still some evidence of dripping but it appears to have abated so I know it is not a leak but an accumulated spill resulting from the fall. But where did it come from from; this is what puzzles me.
I hit the sack early but despite Lori's reassurances that all the issues will somehow work out, my sleep is restless. I'm trashed tired from the ride, worried about Lori, the bike issue, the haggling I'll probably have to do tomorrow and my vindaloo is waging war in my stomach.
Let's see what tomorrow brings.
Distance travelled today
486 miles
782 kms
Steve
Reno, NV
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