Rear calipers unceremoniously zip-tied to the centerstand.
It felt like my pillion was kicking the crap out of the bike... except there was no in the seat behind me. Ripping down the east side of the Cascades on I-90, respectably faster than the 65mph speed limit, I was feeling a random thump - thump - thump toward the rear. No loss of control... perhaps a luggage malfunction?
"Whatever it is," I speculated to myself, "it's very wrong." Bringing the bike to a quick stop on the shoulder, I dreaded what I might find. Nothing looked out of place until I walked around the tail. And there, on the ground, was my rear brake caliper. Beat to hell, hanging on by the hose. Two bolts missing, nowhere to be found. I had been dragging the brake at 85mph.
100 miles into a 5,000 journey, and this happens? How? Why? Would the other 4,900 miles remain un-ridden?
Maybe not. The part was banged up, but not destroyed. The wheel, tire, and swing arm looked undamaged, so the bike was ridable. What to do? Go another 45 minutes to Ellensburg and beg the Yamaha dealer to look at it on a Friday afternoon in July? Not in this lifetime.
No, my best chance for repair was behind me, all the way back home.
I whipped out a few zip ties from by tail bag (don't leave home without 'em) and secured the brake to my centerstand, far away from any moving parts. This worked well enough, although it gave a loaded bike with the ground clearance of a Yamaha Road Star and the brakes of a Honda Rebel.
Back home, Burt, the Last Honest Motorcycle Mechanic, pronounced the part serviceable and swiped the caliper bolts from his own R1 to get me back on the road. This is one of many reasons he has such loyal customers.
I sprinted back to the ferry and started over. By Ellensburg I was done for the day. 335 miles ridden, 120 miles traveled.
I decided to blame the People's Republic of North Korea. It seems to be the fashionable thing to do.
But I'm back on the road, just a day behind schedule. My bike and I are both in one piece. I'm viewing this as a good omen.
Other articles in this series: 5,000 mile ride starts tomorrow
Comments
If you had a Harley you could have gotten it fixed in the mountains. All the deer have Harley's...
And a couple of them run highly regarded shops, too.
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