So, What Does Happen When You Get a Flat Tire on a Motorcycle

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I used to wonder what it would be like to get a flat tire while riding a motorcycle. I did not really want to find out firsthand, I was just curious. Well, I guess you could say, “Curiosity willed the flat.”

It was day one of a 9-day motorcycle road trip to Nashville with another couple. Everything was off to a great start. The weather was perfect and the bike was purring like a tiger as we made our way from the Chesapeake Bay across the Potomac River with only minimal highway time. Maryland and Virginia are connected at Newburg and Dahlgren by the Gov. Harry W. Nice Memorial Bridge. This toll bridge is the only way to cross the Potomac from Southern Maryland, so we were burdened with more than a few miles of mandatory highway on US Route 301 South. The 135-foot-high span affords a beautiful view of the river, but the two opposing lanes of 50-MPH traffic demand your full attention as a rider.

The “Baby Dragon”

As we rode off the bridge, Louise called out the first of many Virginia turns – a right onto Dahlgren road followed by another right onto Caledon Road. That’s where the ride really started to get fun. If you ever find yourself in this area, do yourself a favor and give this road a run. Tree-lined twists and turns… nothing technically difficult, just enough to get your blood pumping. I thought, this is just a taste of what’s to come – we planned to ride the infamous “Tail of the Dragon” in a few days. We jokingly nicknamed this stretch of road “Baby Dragon” and we rode on – destination: Floyd, VA for wood-fired pizza and live music. If our estimates were correct, we would get there by 6PM.

Taking Our Sweet Time

We stopped for lunch at Los Tres Potrillos Mexican Restaurant in Louisa, Virginia. No hurry, we were on the bikes, so we took our time and relaxed. After about an hour (and some great food), we were back on the road.

Some of the best backroads will pop up as last-minute options on Google Maps (when the avoid highways option is selected), so, while Louise juggled the navigation on her phone, I simply settled into a relaxing ride waiting for her to call out my next turn. I knew we were north of Richmond and still southwest of Charlottesville, but, I really didn’t care where we were, exactly – I trust Louise to get us where we are going; my job is to keep the rubber side down, so that’s what I did. However, I didn’t expect the rubber to let us down.

Feeling a Little Deflated

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we paused at a STOP sign long enough for Louise to verify left, right or otherwise. It would be a right onto Scottsville Road, followed by a left onto Red Hill Road. As I pulled forward and leaned into a slow turn to the right, the lowest part of the bike’s frame scraped briefly on the asphalt. Now, the Softail Deluxe has the lowest ground-to-seat height of any Harley, which means that the lowest part of the frame is closer to the ground than even a Sportster (we would know, since several thousand of our tandem miles were on a 2006 Sportster 1200). We’ve scraped before, but always at speed. To scrape in a slow turn was new. I was convinced that I had just leaned too far in the turn – add to that the extra weight of our luggage weighing on the shocks. The bike still felt fine, so we continued with caution. It wasn’t until a few miles later, that we started to feel the rear end of the motorcycle sway with every turn. I would describe the feeling as squirrely, mushy, soft, not good.

Definitely flat

Red Hill Road – not much of a shoulder

Seriously? Two in the afternoon, five hours into our vacation, and this? A flat rear tire. Louise climbed off and I was able to get the bike off of the the road onto a grass “shoulder.” Ahh, Red Hill Road, one of Virginia’s many beautiful backroads. And there we would spend the next hour-and-a-half: calling around trying to arrange for a tow truck (more difficult on a Saturday afternoon in central Virginia than you might imagine); searching for an auto shop that just might be able to repair a flat motorcycle tire; watching and listening to the North Fork Hardware River run by us just past the tree line and down at the bottom of an embankment; and coordinating service with Shenandoah Harley Davidson in Staunton, VA (41 miles away, in the direction we had not planned to go.)

From 2 Wheels to 6

Albemarle Towing‘s driver, Tommy (a really cool guy and champion bluegrass guitar picker), showed up around 3:30. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about the thought of riding a motorcycle, flat tire and all, up onto the bed of a rollback, but I had help and no other options.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D66YU3h21A

Fifteen minutes later, Tommy, Louise and I sat in the sweltering cab of the truck heading west. We would cross the Shenandoah Mountain Range between Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway – two beautiful roads we had ridden only ten months earlier. Not so beautiful from the cab of a tow truck rumbling along Interstate 64; yep, a highway.

All tied down for the ride

Louise and Tommy

The tow truck did not have air conditioning, but it did have a blower, which was blowing nothing but hot air into the cab. So, we kept the windows rolled down and Tommy kept us entertained for the 45-minute trip with stories of his years playing bluegrass music in the Shenandoah Valley. We kept checking behind us to make sure our friends were still in trail, and that our poor motorcycle was still secure on the flatbed. All was good. We arrived at Shenandoah Harley a little after 4:30.

The Definition of Customer Service

The Harley dealership closes at 5 PM on Saturdays, and we burned up 15 minutes just getting the bike off the rollback and paying Tommy the $300 towing fee – great way to start a vacation, right? But, the mechanic, Gavin, had promised to stay late to get us back on the road. The folks here definitely understand customer service.

The service department at Shenandoah H-D

Gavin removed the flat tire and inspected everything closely. The tire itself was still good with plenty of tread left on it. But the tube? Well, that was another story. Not only did the tube have a hole in it the size of the Grand Canyon, the valve stem popped off as Gavin was removing it from the wheel, and the entire tube was filled with goop that we collectively agreed was leftover “Fix-a-Flat” or something similar. We had bought the bike used when it had about 30,000 miles. The previous owner assured us that the tires and tubes only had about 500 miles at the time of purchase.

The lesson learned: when you buy a used bike, check EVERYTHING or have a mechanic do a thorough pre-buy. Had we known that tube was comprised, we probably would have been able to avoid this entire situation.

Gavin from Shenandoah Harley-Davidson test rides our bike after fixing the flat tire

Looking on the bight side, though: nobody got hurt; the bike was not damaged; we salvaged the tire and met some great people, turning this into a memorial adventure – an expensive adventure, but memorable, nonetheless.

Back on the road… I mean highway

The Adventure Continues

Leaving Staunton, we made the decision to take Interstate 81 South towards Floyd, VA. Another highway, but a necessary evil if we were going to beat the impending darkness, as it was now after 6 PM. And even though we hit some heavy traffic near Roanoke, we made it to Hotel Floyd with plenty of time to walk to Dogtown Roadhouse for some of the best wood-fired pizza in the world. I ordered the “Appalachian” – sausage, caramelized onion, aged white cheddar and goat cheese over an Apple Butter Base. Yes, it was even better than it sounds.

We also enjoyed live music by The Trongone Band, a unique jam band that channels the Allman Brothers, the Grateful Dead, with a nice blend of blues and funk.

But, the best part of the evening was sitting there having a cold beer, knowing that we made it through the first day of our trip safely. I’d say we were pretty lucky: we were going slow when it happened, it was the rear tire, and we had cell coverage. We took the flat tire in stride, and just let it be part of the adventure.

The post What Happens When You Get a Flat Tire on a Motorcycle? appeared first on Avoiding Highways.

Over-heating on a motorcycle is a real thing; try this tip for instant air conditioning!

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If you read through this blog, you will find me constantly extolling the benefits of backroads: less traffic, more hills and turns, slower pace, better scenery. One additional advantage is the shade often provided by tree canopies. But, sadly, not all backroads are tree-lined; and sometimes, no matter what you do, you’ll find yourself out in the open, with the hot sun beating down on you.

This windchill chart shows you how speed can reduce the feel of of the outside temperature. What it also demonstrates is that when it is really hot out, faster equals hotter. Notice that as the outside temp gets above 90° F, the “feels like” temperature actually goes up with your speed. This could lead to a very dangerous situation, possibly resulting in heat exhaustion or even heat stroke.

The Long, Hot Ride Home

Louise and I ran into this situation coming home through Virginia on the last day of one of our long trips. The previous days had periods where we would get a little uncomfortable, but there was enough shade on most of the roads we chose. On this final day of riding, the temperature reached nearly 100° F and we were feeling it.

We always keep bottled water on the bike, especially on hot days; it’s easy to dehydrate and not realize it until it’s too late. Louise poured some water down my neck and onto my sleeves (we were wearing light-colored long sleeved T-shirts – highly recommended on hot rides). I immediately felt the instant air conditioning effect of the evaporating water. This is a result of the liquid absorbing heat from its surroundings as it evaporates, the same way sweating helps cool you down (at the expense of your body’s hydration). We only had a small amount of water available, so the instant air conditioning benefits were short-lived. Then it occurred to me: we are doing this the hard way.

I pulled in at the next gas station and we went inside. The plan was to soak our long sleeved shirts in water, and then put them back on. I took the shirts into the restroom and soaked them in the sink. Here’s a pro tip: spend a buck for a gallon jug of distilled water and use that for turning your clothes into air conditioners. The water from the tap in the gas station restroom was disgusting at best. My favorite white long sleeved shirt never did come clean after that. But, the plan worked. We may have looked silly donning soaking wet clothes (feel free to insert your favorite wet t-shirt joke here), but back on the road, it felt like we had just cranked up the AC to max. If you wear a bandana on your head (with or without a helmet) soak that, as well. Also, if you have enough room on your motorcycle, take an extra jug of water for the road.

So, next time you head out on a hot day, grab some water and a long-sleeved shirt, and stay cool, comfortable and safe.

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There’s an App for That

I have an app on my phone called MyRadar. Even with all of the weather resources available to the technologically adept, this is one of my favorite realtime tools for tracking storms. As a pilot, I find it invaluable – especially when I use it on one of my other favorite tools: the iPad. The app gives you a 2-dimensional animated view of Doppler radar in your area.

Screen grab from MyRadar on a ride through Pennsylvania

As motorcyclists, Louise and I swear by it when storms are near. We have used the green, yellow and red globs to help us maneuver away from impending weather phenomena. Pro tip: green globs get you wet; yellow globs get you really wet; red globs make you question your life decisions.

 The Freedom of the Road

Louise and I decided to take a day trip to visit with family. Actually, we set out on a very short ride close to home. We just wanted to feel the road rushing under our wheels. As we left Kent Island and checked MyRadar, it became clear that Mother Nature would prefer that we kept heading east. Who are we to argue with Momma N.? Louise texted her cousin and soon we were on our way towards Delaware.

Heading east away from the storm

A couple weather systems were conspiring to drench us, but we were having none of it. Brief glances at the radar gave us an idea which way to head to stay ahead of the downpours. We easily evaded the rain and had a nice visit with the peeps. Then we jumped back on the bike under sunny skies and headed west.

There’s an app that is as good (if not better in some ways) than MyRadar. It’s called My Eyes. As we pointed the front tire towards home, I saw a darkening sky before us. No problem, we got this. And we rode on. Into the storm(s).

Here Comes the Rain

We did our best to coordinate what we saw on the app with what we saw in the sky, and where we were with where we wanted to be. Home wasn’t in the cards right now. Again, converging storms seemed to know where we were supposed to be, so we obliged. And we found ourselves in Harrington, DE, in the parking lot of the Stargate Diner on US Rt. 13 as the first rainfall began. This should provide sufficient shelter from the storm, so we dismounted and made our way inside.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone

First appearances are important. Apparently our first appearance in the Stargate Diner was out of step with the expectations of those people already inside. As we crossed the threshold and entered the main lobby area, all voices quieted and all eyes turned – toward us. We were not soaking wet and and we didn’t have antennae growing from the tops of our heads… or did we? Whatever the reason, we were the center of the universe (their universe, anyway) for a minute. When that minute was over, we no longer mattered.

I was hungry and thankful to be in a dry place. I would have been content with anything at this point – iced tea, fries, soup, time to wait out the storm. Louise still had not come to grips with our ticker tape parade welcoming. So, we made our way to the front of the building, where donned our rain gear. Even though the bulk of the storm wasn’t completely upon us yet, the MyRadar app confirmed the light sprinkles coming down were just the beginning of something much greater. We jumped on the bike as the rain got heavier and we got wetter, minute-by-minute.

Burger Quest

While I had been fiddling with radar on my phone, Louise had been thumbing through TripAdvisor on hers, looking for burgers. A place called Jeff’s Taproom & Grille, 13.5 miles to the south popped up with some good reviews, so off we went. And here came the storm.

Riding in the rain is not only uncomfortable, it’s dangerous. Visibility is severely reduced, traction is limited, breaking distance is increased, you get wet. And along with getting wet, comes the fogging of the goggles. As we rode along at a slower than normal pace, I had to constantly wipe my goggles with a wet-gloved hand to try and clear my view. What normally would be an 18-minute cruise down Rt 13, turned into a half-hour ride from hell.

We Made It

Parked outside of Jeff’s Taproom & Grille

We finally reached our destination, Jeff’s Taproom and Grille. We parked the bike in the parking lot out back, and made our way inside (though a door that was also in the back). The door opened with a creak and we were no longer taking a shower. The entrance is a short hallway that opens up to the bar/restaurant area. Here, we paused and shook the water from our rain gear. The atmosphere seemed to change a bit, and we felt the now-familiar all-eyes-are-on-you feeling. Is this a Delaware thing or are we truly aliens?

From out of the moment of silence came a lone voice: “Is it raining, yet?” We laughed. They laughed. We all laughed. We were welcome here.

Along with a bowl of the richest French onion soup this side of Paris, we decided to split a Grilled Cheeseburger. Quoting the menu: “Why just have an ordinary roll?! Two pieces of Texas Toast and cheese make this burger an overstuffed grilled cheese!” We upgraded to Krinkle-Cut Fries for an extra 2 bucks.

The crowd at Jeff’s was a welcoming, friendly, comedic bunch who were as interested in us as we were in them. We found a friend in a guy named Clay – a wheel-chair-bound veteran who told us about his specially outfitted Sportster. He didn’t ride it today because of the rain. Duh.

By the way, the burger was so good, we made Jeff’s one of our go-to stops on bike rides with friends. We have been back a few more times, and we will be back many more. Rain or shine.

The post What Are We… Aliens? The Rainiest Ride to The Best Burger appeared first on Avoiding Highways.

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One Extreme to Another

Group ride on a sunny day

We’ve traveled backroads and highways, wet roads and dry roads, paved roads, gravel roads, hilly roads, flat roads, winding roads and straight roads. We’ve hit the roads alone and with friends. We’ve ridden in the heat of summer and on the coldest winter days. We’ve tasted pollen, dirt, exhaust, a few bugs, and rain. We’ve smelled campfire smoke, honeysuckle, freshly cut grass, and rain. We’ve jumped on the bike before the sun was up, ridden all day, and watched the sun set from the backroads; and, by default, we have ridden at night.

We’ve been from one extreme to another, and I wouldn’t trade one minute of it for anything in the world. The extremes get your blood pumping while you’re in the moment, and leave memories that last long after you’ve parked the bike safely at home.

Finally, a Dry Day

We left Prestonsburg, KY on a Thursday morning near the end of our 10-day, 10-state ride. The last few miles the night before had been in the rain. Interestingly, while we had enjoyed nice weather for most of the previous 8 days, we had ridden through some rain every single day. This particular morning, our riding gear included jackets, gloves and chaps. It was 50° with a forecasted high of 67°; NO RAIN expected. We were looking forward to a nice ride along some beautiful hidden backroads through Kentucky, West Virginia and Western Maryland. A home-cooked meal at Louise’s mother’s house in Frostburg, MD awaited us.

The Country Music Highway

Google maps offered up a seven-and-a-half hour riding day covering about 350 miles, a portion of that along the Country Music Highway (US Route 23), a National Scenic Byway stretching 144 miles north and south through eastern Kentucky. Well, this road certainly lives up to it’s title as a highway – four divided lanes of wide-open road with reasonable speed limits. If you don’t mind riding highways, or if you want to spend a day exploring Kentucky’s rich heritage, this route might be worth checking out. We found it to be somewhat boring – since we didn’t plan to stop and visit any of the parks, music venues, historic sites or museums. It was also a little tedious, since many of the cars and trucks seemed to be traveling way too fast or way too slow.

Almost Heaven

Parked along a road in Kentucky

What a relief to finally bail off the highway and pick up some winding, hilly backroads as we bid farewell to the Bluegrass State and entered Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. If you ever have an opportunity to ride in this state, give yourself plenty of time to explore. I’d recommend a day or two.

We followed railroad tracks meandering around mountains, taking the paths of least resistance, like the rivers they follow. Some of our chosen routes took us through tiny unincorporated villages, which hard-working coal miners call home. We felt the temperatures rise and fall as we passed in and out of the shadows of tree canopies and mountains. We knew we were fortunate to have this chance to be in a very real and beautiful part of America.

Bring on the Night

This was a good day. This was a long day. This day came to an end and became night while we were still making our way to the northeast towards Frostburg and that home-cooked meal (and cocktails by the fire). With the setting sun came the dropping temperatures. Remember, 40° F at 50 MPH feels like 10°. When we stopped for fuel, we bundled up a little more. We both added face masks to our ensembles, and we put our rain gear on over our leather. This helped to tame the sting, but not enough. Cold is an extreme that is best taken in small doses. The longer we rode on this cold dark night, the more difficult it became.

Deer in the Headlights

As we rounded a corner, I saw a deer standing not far from the side of the road. So, now I had to contend with the thought of riding right through a designated deer crossing in the dark while freezing to death. I turned on the high beam, only to have to drop it to low every time I saw the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. This went on for what felt like hours, while my body’s core temperature seemed to drop to Mount Everest Camp IV levels. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. But, when you combine multiple stressors (cold, dark, oncoming cars, unpredictable wildlife), everything is open to hyperbole.

I Can’t Move

It all came to a head when we were so close to Mom’s house we could smell the food. We paused at a STOP sign in familiar territory – we were finally in Frostburg. I put my feet down to steady the bike and immediately realized that rigor mortis had set in on my legs. I could not lift them back up – I was really that cold. We only had about three miles to go to feel the warmth of that wood stove in the library. This thought was the talisman that broke the spell. I drew upon every bit of strength I could muster and was able to slowly bend my legs and reach the foot controls.

Home Sweet Home

As we rode down National Pike through the heart of this historic town, I prayed for green lights and my prayers were answered. The new garage attached to the old Victorian was open and vacant. My mother-in-law’s car was parked along the street. “Come on in and sit a spell,” said the warm lights. And, so we did. I can’t say I’ve ever felt more at home in somebody else’s home.

The dinner, the fire, the Jack and Coke, the company… all so warm. So very warm.

Thanks, Mom.

The morning of Day 10

The post Riding a Motorcycle at Night Sucks – The Frosty Ride to Frostburg appeared first on Avoiding Highways.