13 years ago I was riding through Montana about 50 miles South of Billings through this incredibly remote area when the lower U-joint in my driveshaft failed and separated and proceeded to cause the bike to rattle as if it were on rumble strips. The midday sun was rising. It was hot. I had insufficient water with me for the kind of unprotected heat I would face so I limped the bike at very slow speed back to the last gas station I saw some 10 miles earlier.

I knew there would be no fixing the bike this far from home so with some effort that resulted in an interesting tale, I managed to secure a Uhaul and a trailer and took my bike across the rest of Montana and South Dakota and on eastward home in a tow of shame. It was the first time my bike had ever been on a trailer. I rode by Sturgis and then the Badlands which was to be the next stop on my trip. I had always wanted to see the Badlands and had the intention of someday coming back. 

The damage was extensive. A sane person would have totaled the bike and called it done, but this was My Beloved Blue Oil Burner and I just couldn't let it end like that. 

I managed to find the parts I needed to rebuild it and would go cross country again in 2014 but I did not make it back to the Badlands. More trips were had down to Deal's Gap and other locations. 

In 2018 the engine failed. The bike sat for almost five years when Duncan said to me, "Dude, we have to get your bike back together again. You'll feel better once it's back on the road." 

He sacrificed so many weekends where we worked meticulously to assemble a bike out of all the parts I had. Engine from this, suspension from that, on so forth. I had to ask myself the philosophical question, "How many parts can you swap out before the bike is no longer my bike?" 

I decided the soul of the machine, correctly, lies in the Vehicle Identification Number so as long as the VIN is the same, then it's still My Beloved Blue Oil Burner. 

We did everything so carefully. I was not at all convinced that it would ever work again. Any parts that were questionable were carefully inspected or replaced. The transmission had been rebuilt recently but the final drive needed attention so I had it rebuilt. 

To my amazement, not only did we get the bike back together again but it is now better in every regard. But since then I've always had the lingering doubt as to whether there was some mistake that would eventually make itself known. 

So it's now been almost 20,000 miles since all this work was done and no major mistakes have made themselves known. 

I am now a bit over 5000 miles into my trip and I had a philosophical change of heart. Since the start I've been rushing a bit to try to match the schedules of those I would very much like to meet up with. This is, after all, the See Everyone Trip. I am hoping to meet a Facebook friend Lara in Seattle who I have been chatting with for years but have never met. I would like to ride with Ian. 

Ian said his window of availability had extended so I did not need to rush. I think that was a catalyst for me to remember something I had forgotten. Somewhere on the road I slowed down and let the goals and the timelines go. I stopped at The Medicine Wheel, an old first ones site that was situated at the top of a mountain that represented a two mile dirt road climb followed by a 1.5 mile walk each way.

 

I spent so much longer than I "should have" looking at this site. The walk out and back in full gear took it out of me but put me into a different frame of mind. For the first time since the trip has started I found myself feeling a Calm(tm) I have not known in quite some time. There was a letting go. 

Just two days before I had met up with Em, Robert's friend who is one of the most hard core long distance riders I've ever met. We spent a wonderful evening exchanging motorcycle travel stories. She had been Out There(tm) and I was struck when she said, "On my bike is the only place I have known peace." 

As anyone who knows me, that resonated. We talked about what we had seen and experienced. Rain. Of course, check. Hail, check. Tornadoes, "not my first rodeo" she said. Heat. Dust. Exhaustion. Check. She did the run from Tennessee to Rapid City in just under 24 hours, 1493 some odd miles. That is beyond anything I could hope to accomplish. 

And she thought I was the badass. 

We talked about when things went sideways and about motorcycle people. 

"The best things happen, it seems, when things go sideways." I had said at one point during our conversation. We talked about being the Traveler and being the one to help The Traveler. I speculated there's something about being the Traveler or seeing the Traveler that's somehow encoded into our being. We are, or at least many of us are, a traveling species. I've been both the Traveler in need and also the one encountering the Traveler in need. I've been the latter much more often than the former.

She talked about the incredible acts of kindness she's encountered Out There. I talked about the hunter who saved my sorry ass off that mountain back in 2016. I talked about the German couple I hosted for a week years ago while their bikes were being repaired. There were other stories to tell. The time Francois came out to get us and dropped off Megan's bike for us to use. 

There are so many who have asked me at home and on the road, "What happens if you break down?" 

"I'll fix it." 

And if you can't fix it? 

I had spent quite a bit of time a the The Medicine Wheel and it was getting later in the day so I knew I would not make it that far. I rolled through incredible countryside past tall snow dotted mountains and then got low on gas. I stopped at one point pondering which way to go and decided randomly to go left on an interesting road because it seemed that a town called Red Lodge that I knew nothing about was within striking distance. I made it in relatively short time despite some stress about my lowering fuel gauge. To my relief there was a gas station. I filled up and decided to take a break. They had this nice small boulder encircled picnic area where I sat and looked at where I might make it to before calling it a night. There was a town some number of miles up the road close to the interstate but after looking at restaurants and lodging there I realized the town I was sitting in, Red Lodge, had many more options. Most hotels were booked but there was one, The Lupine Inn on the South end of town that had some vacancies and was not stupidly expensive. I rolled over there and got a room.

Feeling the need to get to Seattle, I looked at routes towards I90 when a few people reached out and asked if I was going to ride Beartooth Pass. Because I am a big picture guy, I failed to realize that I was right next to it. After some pondering, I thought, "Why not?" I'm here. It's a fantastic climb. I'll take the time. 

"Give it time." echoed from a ride a long long time ago.

I had a nice dinner at the Black Canyon Bistro and then called it a night. 

The next morning, weather was rolling in and there was some question as to whether or not there would be snow but if I got a prompt start I should be able to make it over the pass in time without much drama. I had been a bit lax about checking tire pressures over the last few days so I decided to do that. 

The front was down just 2 psi. Fine. 

I went to check pressure on the back tire and of course the stem was in the exact wrong spot so I rotated the tire to bring the stem around where I could reach it when suddenly there was some unexpected resistance. It took some effort and the wheel moved and I checked the pressure and it was also within 2 psi. 

I paused and thought it was strange. 

I went into the room, suited up, got all my gear, and came back out to head out to the pass. 

I paused. The resistance I felt was bugging me. Honestly, it should have been an immediate lightning strike of concern but it was not. I tried to turn the wheel again and there was that same resistance. It felt like the bike was in gear but it would have taken so much more effort to turn it over. But it was reminiscent of it being in gear. I checked that it was in neutral. It was. Hmmm. 

So I fired it up and put it into gear while on the center stand. 

"clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk"

"Oh that's not good." I thought calmly. I pondered for a moment about riding it as it was and then quickly realized that would be stupid. 

"There is doubt. So there isn't any." is one of my favorite sayings. "Is it ok? I don't know." is doubt so after a moment it was clear I could not ride the bike any further until I figured out whether or not this was a problem. 

Maybe it was a problem. Maybe it wasn't. But I felt that this was bad, so it had to be checked out. It would absolutely suck to be on a high pass or out in the midday desert sun and have it fail catastrophically. Getting a trailer around here is crazy difficult in my experience the last time.

I looked at the map again and realized, to my surprise, I was probably no less than 50 miles from the place where the drive shaft U-Joint broke in 2013.

Ironic. 

"My bike clearly wants to be buried in Montana." I thought. Maybe resurrecting it from the dead has been an undo burden on it and I just callously didn't notice. 

I played with the wheel again and thought that what I was feeling was most likely a failed u-joint. 

How ironic? 

I looked at it some more and realized there was no way of diagnosing the problem without taking the rear end of the bike apart. I needed to remove the muffler, rear wheel, brake caliper, and final drive and probably pull the drive shaft. This meant I would need more tools than I had and a heat gun. If I found a problem it would mean the bike would likely be apart for days. This is not something I could just do in a hotel parking lot. I would need a place that was covered, a carport maybe, or better yet maybe a shed or some space in someone's garage where I could leave it apart while getting parts delivered. 

The bike could not be ridden until I knew exactly what was going on. I didn't want the u-joint to fail completely, if that's what it was, and take out all those parts again. 

Regardless, it was going to take days. I walked to the hotel office and despite it being before 11AM they graciously let me book the room for an additional three days with an option to extend. "I will likely be here for a week if not more,." There's a music festival going on and there were virtually no vacancies in town. 

I needed to find a place to do the work. There was a NAPA auto parts store within walking distance so I could buy all the tools I would need. That's a huge plus.

I was feeling fortunate. I was secure. I had a room. There were restaurants and stores nearby. All in all if this was going to happen, I could easily think of much worse places.  

But I still needed to find a place to do the work. It was Saturday and the one mechanic was closed. There was a custom cycle shop that I found out had turned into a clothing store. This was going to take a while. 

I took a video of the sound and the resistance as best I could and posted it on IG and Facebook with a description of what I thought might be the problem and asked if anyone knew someone around Red Lodge that might have some space I could rent. A shed? A car port? Maybe I could get into a garage, but that seemed like a tall order. 

Not more than 10 minutes after I posted that I got the first call and it was Drew who is the first person, as is now traditional, I stopped to visit on this trip. He works at Bob's Motorcycles, formerly Bob's BMW, and offered to help in any way he could. 

Amazing. 

Then I got a call from Jared who is in Thailand! He knows people in the greater Red Lodge area and put some feelers out to see if anyone knew of anyone with some space I could borrow.

I then heard from a bunch of people through messenger. Robert posted asking if anyone knew anyone. Cooper Tom messaged me with some suggestions and found a local BMW mechanic up the road. Somehow the brother of that mechanic reached out, I guess someone tagged him. Robert's friend Mark who lives in Missoula offered several options. Moira in Texas reached out saying her friend Rachel has contacts that might be able to help. 

I have no words. 

Strangely, if I get the bike operational again, I have agreed to visit both of these friends of friends on my way West. Meet Everyone, not Just the People I Know.

Scott reached out saying he also knew people that if need be he could draw upon. 

Samantha reached out with options and suggested maybe I could rent a storage unit. I had pondered this and had started looking into it. It would suck but it would be better than trying to do something out in the open. She is an absolute master at finding information and quickly found a couple of options close enough that I could push the bike to. I thought that was going to be my most likely option. I could get it apart and evaluate while staying at the hotel. The parts could be left off and secure. I'd walk to NAPA, buy tools, some of which would have to be ordered so that would take some time. I could stay at the hotel. I figured I'd probably be stranded for at least a week. 

More people reached out. Options of having the bike trailered to Missoula or maybe even Billings were suggested. There would be more options. But finding someone to trailer it would likely be challenging and would certainly have to wait until Monday if not longer. 

Knowing nothing would happen for at least a couple of days, I went back to my room and aside from responding to people who were reaching out, I worked on a bug that had been preventing me from updating my planning map. 

It was 3:30 when I noticed Samantha had sent me a message at 3:15. 

"I found someone on BikerBunks and I just got through texting with him. He's waiting your call at 3:30. He says he has some space in a garage in Billings." 

"Garage? Billings? I'd have to get a tow but that might work." I thought.

I am always hesitant reaching out on the phone, but it was 3:30 so I called. It went to voicemail. 

More people reached out. More options but none clearly easily doable. It would probably be Monday before anything could be done.

The phone rang.

It was Mike the contact Samantha had found. 

He said he had a shop. 

"Shop?" I thought. 

He said he had most of the tools I would probably need. And if not, he was a member of a local Montana BMW riders group with 150 members several of which were local to Billings. He mentioned one, Scott, who had a serious shop and would probably be willing to help. 

"Tools?" I thought. 

He said had a bike lift I could use and that I'd have ample space in which to work. 

"Bike lift!?!?"

He then said he had a basement room with a separate shower and bathroom for this guests and that I would be welcome to stay. 

"Room!?!" 

He then, after we had talked for a bit, said he had 6 bikes and since I would be left to my own devices for a bit, I was welcome to borrow any one of them. 

"BIKES?!?"

And then he said ... 

"I have an enclosed trailer and my schedule is wide open, I could come and get you and the bike tomorrow morning. Let's say 10AM?"

"TRAILER!!!???!!!!!"

I could not believe this. 

"What do you charge?" I asked figuring I would need cash and wanted to make sure I had enough on hand. I didn't care what it would cost. 

"Oh. I just do this. There's no need to pay me anything." 

"What?" 

I know not what to say. 

Ummmm. "Ok. Thank you. What can I say? I have no words." 

"If you don't hear from me I'll be there at 10AM." 

So I got up promptly, had breakfast, and made an effort to have all of my stuff on the curb so there would be no delay. There was a DR rider who I got to talking to but I still had 10 minutes to get the last of my stuff when Mike rolled up 10 minutes early.

It's real. Samantha made this happen. I have no idea how she does this but she has such a gift. 

It's a crazy nice trailer with all the tie down points one could dream of and a motorcycle chock.  

It took mere minutes and we had the bike secured and ready to go. 

What's happening? How?  

Billlings was an hour drive from Red Lodge. There were many stories. It became clear very quickly he was deeply connected into the motorcycle world. He's owned many bikes. He's done a bunch of off road riding. But he also was more into the riding than into other aspects. Sometimes one just gets a sense of person. 

At one point he mentioned he had never ridden out East and had been watching videos of riding through the Smokey Mountains. 

"I have three bikes. You are welcome to come out and ride which ever one you want and I will be happy to guide you on a tour through the Smokey Mountains." 

It is very likely that this is going to happen. 

"That escalated quickly." 

So he mentioned his shop was 7 miles from his house so we went there before heading to his house. I was imagining a small rented garage and that there might be just enough room to squeeze in. 

I was not prepared.  

It's not just the one bay. 

IT"S BOTH OF THEM.

I walked in and just started laughing. This place is HUGE!!

He's got a line of bikes, a camper, his trailer, a side by side, and a spare truck in it with spare room after all that that is larger than my garage. 

Insanity! 

I said, "In your best Crocodile Dundee voice I can just hear you say, 'You call that a garage. Now THIS is a garage!"  

We had the bike rolled in and on the lift in minutes.  

"You're welcome to ride any of the bikes except the CT110 or the Suzuki. I suggest you ride the RT if you need to haul parts." 

Wait. What?

"Oh, and while you're here you've just got to try the Guzzi. It's so much fun." 

Or if you prefer you could ride the TW250, the DR650, or the R1200GS.  

"Or you could even take the side by side. Or cycle through all of the above."  

What? 

Earlier, I had started to feel a bit self conscious. I had forgotten there was a time when we had the R1100S up on the center stand and it would clunk when in gear. On that bike the swing arm hangs down far enough while on the center stand that it's a known and non-problematic behavior. I began to wonder if maybe I had jumped to a conclusion. 

But I know my bike and I know I used to be able to spin the rear wheel without any resistance. To compare we spun the rear on Mike's R1200RT and R1200GS which have similar albeit not identical drive trains. No binding. No resistance. 

The brake is dragging a big on my bike as the rotor is a bit warped but that is not the source of the resistance I was feeling. It it clunks which it did not used to do.

"That's what I feel it was like before this issue. I would love to get an additional set of eyes on this just to double check my thinking. But I think it has to come apart." 

Mike had called two members of his riding group the day before to let them know about my predicament. He tried calling Scott, the one with the extensive shop, but got voicemail. It turns out Scott was on a ride with his wife and stopped by the side of the road to call back.

"We can be at the shop in an hour."

What?

So during that time Mike took me to the house where I could drop my stuff off and we then went back to the shop before Scott and his wife arrived. 

"If I'm only 10 minutes early, I'm late." Mike said. 

Scott and his wife, whose name I can't remember, arrived shortly after. 

Scott is in the blue shirt. They had just gotten back from touring Japan. How cool is that? 

Scott thought as I did that it's likely a U-joint and said he has a friend with an extensive machine shop who could press in new u-joints if that ends up being the problem. He listed off a number of other options and said he had a shop full of parts should I need anything. 

I have no words.  

They left and I got to work. I thought Mike would go on about his day while I worked but instead he stayed and helped. I told him how much I hate wrenching alone. His company was so much appreciated. 

We had the exhaust, wheel, and final drive off in radically less time than I expected. 

I could find no fault with the drive shaft or u-joints. However, the shaft that goes into the final drive had what appeared to me to be significant play and if I tugged on it it would make the same clunking noise I heard when moving the tire back and forth. 

"Maybe it's not the drive shaft but instead the final drive." I said.

This would be disappointing because less than 20,000 miles ago as part of the big rebuild with Duncan, I had the final drive completely rebuilt. Steve over at Bob's does really good work and had upgraded some of the known weak points. It was expensive but worth it to have it done right. The final drives are known weak points. We'll see what it ends up being. 

I have some further tests to do tomorrow but at this point my suspicion is the final drive is the culprit. We'll see. 

Mike took me over to his house. It turns out Mike is a hunter and had gotten a deer so it was a venison dinner. He has a wood pellet grill. Dinner was delicious. (I had expected I'd be walking to a restaurant.)

Tomorrow we'll head back to the shop and I'll check the few additional things I've been asked to check and we'll see how to move forward from there. Mike suggested if there's down time we should go for a ride using his bikes. He wants to show me some local roads including an alternate near Beartooth. The photos seem beautiful.

What is this alternate timeline I'm suddenly living in? 

"Is the room ok?" he asked. 

This is the room.  

There's even a gym!  

I am at a loss. Of all the possible outcomes from what I was facing just 36 hours ago, if you had told me this would happen I would have said it was impossible. 

One way or another, I'll get the bike back on the road. It may mean getting a final drive which may prove to be challenging. I have to thank Bud for all his advice and help. 

There are so many people who reached out. 

I am humbled. Thank you, everyone.