I am pushing a wide broom across the garage floor and thinking hard - what do I do? And subtext - this place is a mess, but at least its a workshop. A pile of parts, food wrappings, cardboard and cigarette butts has built up in the corner at the insistence of my broom. Now I have room to work on my BMW GSAW bike.
Slowly it dawns on me that it's three minutes past mid-night and now July 4th - Independence Day. I have been awake for twenty hours and I am not happy. Having ridden hard and fast to the East from Denver, my aim was Kansas City MO, where two very juicy bonuses sit, and the start of my "Combo Run" to greatness in this Rally. But a couple of miles before Wichita KS, I stopped for a full load of fuel - 10 gallons which turned out to be laced with water. Within three miles, my bike "fails to proceed" as Rolls Royce would say.
As always happens in these situation, someone stops and you work out a plan. This time a dad with three boys offers to drive home and ask his neighbor, a "bikie" to help. He turns out to be Randy Stephenson a most helpful chap. He leads me to an auto mechanic, Bill who has a partner, Will, who is a bike mechanic. But Will is already well and truly lubed up with his mates for 4th of July. I call Progressive Insurance and they transport the bike to Bill's shop with great care, as the driver is on his first day's work from Kansas City. The last thing I need is for the bike to drop off the flat-tray in the main street of Wichita.
Bill then proceeds to fill the tank with HEET a commercial product which is actually methyl-alcohol and disperses the water inside the petrol. At least that is the theory. We start the bike and it runs really rough and hot, and before long the exhaust is glowing red - then the plastic cover catches fire. I can see my dreams going up in smoke, right there and then. We put it out, by squeezing bottles of drinking water over it. Molten plastic drips onto the concrete floor. I feel it is time to go to a hotel, and Bill takes me to one about 5 miles away, promising to be back at 11am the next morning. I am not too sure this will work out.
For the next twenty four hours, Wichita is beset by loud cars, drunken party goers and lots and lots of fireworks. A man in the street near the hotel is arrested for letting his rockets "go too high". Morning comes and I am furiously working on my laptop to find a way to make up the points I am missing for each minute the wheels are not turning. I come up with some great and detailed plans in 'Garmin "BaseCamp". But Bill does not arrive. Eventually his very young son and girlfriend turn up and open the garage at 1pm. Nothing we do works, because I have still not figured out that there is more water in the gas, than gas. He tells me that everyone at the family party (of four generations) is unable to open a door, let alone drive safely. From the noise I can believe it. I am not going to get professional mechanical help on 4 July.
Day three arrives and I am almost giving up on the rally. A kindly old gent from the local bike club appears at the door and tells me he knows a little about BMW's - the ones with carburetors. I guess he is at least 85, but he calmly works on the bike with me. Will and a bunch of mates roar into the garage on huge choppers, but they are not in a fit state to help - they just want to talk about the rally and I am counting down minutes. I agree with the Tom to pull the crash frame off, the plugs out and the injectors off the bike - Bill helps by finding tools in the chaos behind us. The plugs are cleaned, the injectors are happily spraying water and gas all over the place, and the oxygen sensor is white from running lean - you don't say!
I tell Bill I am going to empty all of the gas out of the auxiliary tank plus the main tank and ask where he wants me to put it. I pull the quick-release on the auxiliary line. No reply brings a response that I will pour it in the paddock next door and drop a match on it. He thinks this is a bad idea as the local sheriff is parading up and down the street, and comes to the rescue with a pressure thank, usually used for storing used oil. The first bucket comes out mostly water. Ahaha. Tick Tock.
Four and a half buckets later, we are clear of gas and use a pressure hose to get the rest out. It is a serious mess. His son Brad, who turns out to have just turned 16, goes out and gets a new one-gallon gas drum and some fresh gas. He and I are the only people in the whole place who are with it. We put the bike back together and it starts first time, using a battery starter. Thank god for small mercies.
But with everyone talking to me and at me, I am desperate to get the hell out of Dodge. I pay Bill and load the bike and text the Rally van, "back on the road". "Awesome" replies Bart, and I am very pleased that someone is so positive! Roadworks make getting out of Wichita a nightmare, but I am heading down I70 at a rate of knots. With a moving average over 88 mph and minimal stops every four hundred miles for gas, this is a serious race against time - and a huge crowd is watching my SPOT track. Will he make it in time? I make one chosen stop, the AMES bonus, a foolish move as it is down a gravel road, at dusk and takes 25 minutes.
19 hours later, and One hour and 38 minutes into the penalty window, I arrive exhausted in Reno NV. But I Am still in the rally to a tumultuous welcome. Smiles are back, we are in, despite a huge drop in points! The briefing for leg 2 is happening in ten, and I have yet again, been awake 26 hours.
