OK, the swelling has gone down enough that I'm able to finally type my tale. This is my first attempt at linking photos on here, so bear with me if they don't show up right away.
I woke up on Saturday morning at 3:00 AM. I put my gear on, grabbed a few frozen water bottles and snacks, and headed to the gas station around the corner. The IBA uses the time/date stamp on the receipt as your official start time. At 3:35 AM, I put in a little under a gallon to top off my tank. With the odometer reading 2213.2 miles, I was off!
6:23 AM, 167 miles down, odometer reading 2380.1 miles. Stopped for gas after bike made some weird coughs. Fuel light never came on. I realized I lost my wife's iPod reaching into my pocket for the EZPass a few miles back. Oh well, I'll get her a better one when I get back. She won't be surprised I lost it. I have no idea how she puts up with me. No more music for the remainder of the trip, though. After filling up, the bike wouldn't start. No lights, no hum from the fuel pump, nothing. I checked the engine cutoff switch, jiggled the ignition key and tapped the battery. The tapping of the battery made the lights flicker, so I took it apart to find this:
That explained the coughs. I thought I was done. I said at the beginning, if I had a mechanical failure I wasn't going to rush a repair. I would simply try again another day. I have AMA roadside assistance, but I don't think they tow over 100 miles. If I was going to get it towed home, I would have to get it at least 67 miles closer to home. So I busted out my leatherman, snipped off the end of the terminal lug, stripped back the insulation, and screwed it under the remainder of the lug still attached to the battery. It seemed like a secure fix, and only took about 20 minutes. I was still averaging over 50 mph with the repair, so I decided to keep going.
8:45 AM, about 290 miles in, stopped for gas in Gardiner, ME. The bike was making a loud noise, like a lawnmower engine was running inside a metal drum. Turns out the rear bolt holding the gas tank to the frame had vibrated loose. The nut was gone, but I had the bolt. Nothing resembling an auto parts store was in sight, so I held the tank off the engine with my left hand and my legs for the next 15 miles.
9:52 AM, 328 miles in, odometer reading 2541.9 miles. I stopped to top off the tank again and eat some much needed breakfast. I neglected to eat at my first stop due to the time lost fixing the battery cable. Across the street from the gas station was an auto parts store. I bought a nut and lock washer, reattached the tank and continued on. I hoped that these mechanical failures wouldn't be a pattern.
12:02 PM, 461.1 miles down, odometer reading 2674.2 miles. Stopped for gas in Island Fall, ME. I should be close to the turnaround point now...
12:30 PM, I see a sign saying "last exit before Canada". Border crossing was not on my planned route. So I took the last U.S. exit, pulled out my phone and realized I missed my intended exit. Only 4 miles out of the way. I backtracked and got on to Route 1 in Houlton, ME.
2:03 PM, 552.6 miles in, odometer reading 2765.7 miles. I finally reached my destination: Caribou, ME. I stopped at Lou's Service Station for gas and to get a witness to sign the form I brought with me, then got back on the road.
I was hoping to be able to stop for an hour or so to eat and rest, but I was running almost 2 hours behind my anticipated schedule (18-20 hours is about average for a ride like this). Any further mechanical issues could make me go beyond the 24 hour window. This was the hardest part of the entire trip. After 10.5 hours in the saddle, 550 miles, feeling pain in many parts of my body, I was only at the halfway point. At this moment, I knew exactly what lay ahead of me. Before now, the remainder of the journey was a mystery. If I didn't reach the halfway point for whatever reason, I could turn around or get a hotel room. But I reached Caribou. Now every mile on the road was one mile closer to home. Every minute spent resting after refueling the bike was another minute I would be away from the love of my life. Giving up on the way to Caribou would be perfectly understandable. If I gave up on the way home, I would be admitting defeat. With a groan, I swung a stiff leg over the saddle, gave her a kick, and made for home.
4:09 PM, odometer reading 2881.4. I stopped in Medway, ME for fuel. I checked the gas tank bolt only to find that it was gone. I wasn't worried about heat on the tank. I was far more concerned with the vibrations. The edge of the valve cover was in contact with the fuel pump. I was afraid the tank would crack a weld or damage the pump. Asking around for a hardware store proved fruitless, so I busted out the leatherman and made like McGyver. I found a straight tree branch, whittled it down to size, and jammed it in. It fit well, and kept the tank off the engine. Back on the road!
5:36 PM, odometer reading 2973.3. Stopped for gas in Newport, ME. 14 hours on the road, and I was still over 300 miles from home. My right hand started to hurt about an hour ago. Stick fix is holding up well. Speed limits are 75 MPH up here, which is doable if you can draft a bit and catch a tailwind. I've kept the throttle pinned for an hour or two at a time. I have to give credit to RE for the engine. It never missed a beat. The rest of the bike seems to want to fall apart from the vibrations, though.
7:33 PM, odometer reading 3076.0. Made it to Cumberland, ME. The stick fix failed about 20 miles ago. I held it up with my left hand and knees again long enough to get here. I found another stick, whittled it down, and replaced the first. The bike seemed to have excessive vibrations where it previously didn't (60 mph and under), so I also replaced the spark plug.
9:36 PM, odometer reading 3216.3. Stopped for fuel in Framingham, MA. The bike ran better for about 40 miles. It was noticably smoother, but then reverted back to the heavy vibrations. I think I'll try a 7 plug instead of the 6 next time. I missed the cutover via 495 to the Mass Pike (thanks Google maps for labeling it I290) so I continued down 95 to the Pike. It's not too far out of the way, but at this point, I'm trying to use telekenesis to make the bike go faster. I don't want any extra miles. Holy crap on a cracker, I just want to be home. Hot shower, a hug from my wife, food, and bed. I'd pay anything for a Star Trek transporter right now. The pain in my hand is pretty bad, and it seems like my glove is fitting tighter than it usually does.
About 5 minutes after leaving Framingham, the headlight goes out. For those that haven't been on the Mass Pike at night, there are almost no street lights at all. Zero illumination. The only lights are near the rest stops, and I was miles away from the next one. 16 miles later, I reached the next rest area. I dismantled the headlight, checked the connections, and reassembled it. Nothing seemed wrong, so I gave it a good tap with the screwdriver handle. The light came back on! I packed up the tools, got back on, and thumbed the starter button. The light immediately went out. Tapping on it made it come on once or twice, but nothing would keep it on. Screw it. I'll follow someone's tail lights. I'm too close to home to give up now.
After another 10-20 miles, I realized how fried my brain was. I was trying to do the math in my head to figure my average speed, remember how much gas I put in at the last rest stop, etc. and it was like trying to hold a raw egg with a toothpick. In a brief moment of clarity, I remembered I also had a high beam. Click goes the switch, and I can see again! Hallelujah! I really need to get home. Stick #2 failed but the stick is jammed in there so I can't replace it. I'll have to hold the tank for the rest of the trip.
11:30 PM, 3312 miles on the odometer, Cromwell, CT. I topped off the tank and got the almighty receipt which officially stops the clock. After 20 hours and 1100 miles on a 27 HP bike, I was home.
My hands were very swollen from the vibration. The next day, I went to an urgent care clinic to find out what was wrong and if anything could be done. It wasn't too painful, but I couldn't really use my right hand for anything.
Don't mind my sexy legs in the background...
12 hours after getting home, at the walk in clinic:
Just extending my fingers made them go white:
The doctors were worried about compartment syndrome, but the blood circulation seemed good, so they didn't send me to the ER. If anything changed, though, I was told to go straight to the hospital. It's been 48 hours now, and the swelling is almost gone.
It's late, and I have to work in the morning. I have more thoughts about the bike, the vibrations, and some odd handling characteristics. I will share those tomorrow.
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