The trouble with towing

May 22, 10:09 PMHouston Motorcycle ExaminerCash Anthony

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Last Sunday morning dawned another beautiful, clear day in Houston, and we left for a short ride.  We did our parking lot practice for only a few minutes, then headed out on the freeway, going north on Loop 610 West. 

The original plan had been to ride up to Bellville and back, but there were some very dark clouds on the horizon, and it looked like more behind them to the west.  Jim said, “Let’s go have pancakes,” and I was mentally mapping several routes to the various IHOP’s on our side of town.  Then I remembered that there was a new Denny’s in Pearland, on Highway 518 in the new shopping area west of 288.  I radio’d him on the CB, “Do you care if it’s a Denny’s instead?”  He said no, so we turned east at Highway 59. 

I go into this in some detail because, since the traffic was light, we were traveling at highway speeds all this time.  We made the merge at 288 going south, now on the third side of a big square, and crossed under Beltway 8.  About that time, I smelled a whiff of burning rubber.

A more-or-less ancient sedan went by me, and I looked at its tires and tailpipe, wondering if what I smelled came from that vehicle.  The air cleared almost instantly, though, so we continued on to Pearland. We slowed for the exit at 518, and my handlebar started to shake. 

It set up an increasing vibration as I continued to slow, and I said to Jim, “There’s something wrong with my bike.” I made the turn, very slowly because of the traffic, and when the bike straightened up again, going maybe 25 mph, the vacillation in the handlebar came back, worse than before.  Fortunately, there was a driveway for me to turn into – and it was the Denny’s driveway, so we rode to the back to level ground. By then Jim had told me the news: “You’ve got a flat tire.” 

This wasn’t my first rodeo, but it turned out to be a little more trouble than most.   

We went into the restaurant, and I spotted a Brazoria County deputy sheriff waiting to pay.  I approached him and asked if he knew any wrecker companies in the area that could pick up a bike, and also if he knew where the nearest bike shop might be. 

He was very helpful – has a Honda VTX1300 himself – so while he made calls and Jim waited for information, I went in and ordered coffee.  In a few minutes, we had a telephone number.  But no idea who we were calling! 

I explained to the woman who picked up the phone what had happened and where we were, and said that I needed a wrecker and driver who knew how to handle a bike.   

She took the information but didn’t say what she was doing with it.  I thought (because I could barely hear her) that I had reached a towing company, but instead, I had reached the county sheriff’s department.  Soon after, a lady from Pearland PD called on my cell, but both of them – very polite, and clearly wanting to be helpful – were unable to give me the telephone number or a name of the wrecker I sought. 

It’s “policy.”  We weren’t in an accident, and they send wreckers out on a strict rotation even then.  So while I could certainly call one and request help privately, they were prohibited from even telling me which companies on their list might be able to pick up a motorcycle. 

Well, never give up.  We finished breakfast and went outside to deliberate.  Jim decided to ride his Wing into Pearland proper, to see if he could find a bike shop nearby.  (We knew it would be closed, but it would give us a destination in the area for the wrecker we still hoped would come.) By the time he came back, I’d had the conversation with Pearland PD and had called Brazoria County again, to make sure no one was on the way. 

Jim had found a tire shop open and stopped to ask for the number of a towing company in the area, certain that those folks would know.  They did give him a number, and we did get an answer there, but they didn’t have a truck that could do the tow. No flat bed at all. 

It was time to hit the Yellow Pages.  And we surely would have done just that, except that the Denny’s didn’t have one. Didn’t have any telephone directories at all. 

This was one time when I was especially glad to have my cell phone and to have my husband in town, instead of on the road. I called home and asked him to look up wrecker companies for me, and to call me back with the numbers of any near where we were stuck. 

In a few minutes, I had another two numbers to call. This time they answered clearly, and I knew I was in luck! 

But no. The first one only had one wrecker with a flat bed, and only one guy to drive it.  He was off on Sundays. 

The second had both a driver and a truck, but he was out on a call and far, far away. 

Meanwhile, I had called Tim at home again to ask him to bring the bike cover so that I could leave it parked where it was, if nothing worked out.  He arrived and took my extra gear off, then hung around to see if we would get help, waiting to take me home. 

Now, we were hardly desperate. It was even a pleasantly cool day, but this escapade was turning into a much bigger hassle than usual.  I’ve had flats, cables break, even had my bike catch on fire once. (I had an intuition right before that happened, and so I’d switched bikes with Jim a mile before. Thus it was his problem when a fire broke out under his seat!)  But we’d always managed to get a tow fairly quickly. However, those occasions were all on the north and west sides of the city, where most of the motorcycle riding near Houston is done, because of the landscape. Help for a stranded motorcyclist is easier to come by up there. 

Jim resorted to accosting strangers. He turned to me and said, “When you need help, sometimes you have to be a little more assertive in asking for it.”  The very next gentleman he stopped answered the question, “Do you know of a wrecker service around here?” with, “Yes, I’ve got the number in my truck.  Just a minute.”  And he went back and found the number, brought it to us, and that ended our search. I called, they had the truck and the right guy driving it, and he was only half a mile away. 

The wrecker service, Randee’s, sent a fellow named Robbie who absolutely knew exactly what he was doing.  He was great!  He treated my bike as if it were his own baby. 

If you’ve never had the occasion to tow your bike in, there are a number of risks for more damage to it before you get it to the shop.  A flat bed truck with a tilting bed is essential. Two people are probably nearly essential, too; we had four, and that worked even better. That gave us two guys at the front, and two of us in the rear to push the bike up the incline. (If you could just ride the bike onto the bed, chances are you wouldn’t need a tow.)  While it’s moving onto the bed, one person has to be holding onto the brake lever, to be able to apply the brake if the pushers stop too soon, so it doesn’t slip backwards or fall off. 

Once it’s completely on the bed, the bed can be tilted back to a level position, which makes rolling the bike only a little harder than normal on a paved street. Then the bike needs to be parked on its sidestand (the most stable position for a motorcycle), with the front forks compressed, and tied down with soft straps.  Additional tie-downs are used for the rear, including one wrapped around the rear tire.  The bike should be secure and immobile before the truck moves away, and the sidestand can then be put up so that it's entirely vertical and won't be bounced over on its side. 

You'll need a flat-bed tow truck similar to this to pick up a motorcycle.  And unloading one is even riskier than loading it. 

Jim sat on the bike with the brakes on at the rear end of the bed, ready to let the bike roll backwards on the ground as soon as it was tilted down.  That worked, but just before the bed stabilized at a tilt, Jim said he felt the bike sliding down the metal plates anyway, even though he was holding as tight as he could.

(On a previous occasion, we watched with horror as his Wing was DROPPED off a wrecker at a dealership.  He had offered to help the fellow unload it, but got waved off. Fortunately, it was already toast, and soon was declared totaled for engine problems, but it still hurt to see it crash down.  Swap the engine out, and that bike could have rolled on for years…Not to mention how mad the guy was who owned the other bike -- the one the Wing landed on.  Ouch.)  If you're getting a tow, get involved if you can with the loading and unloading.  Give that wrecker driver a hand, or at least the option to have your help.

The next problem with towing the bike in is – where do you take it?  In Houston, when you’re broken down on Sundays, it’s going to be Tuesday before you can get anything fixed.  Almost all the bike shops will be closed on Monday.  In our case, the exception was much too far from Brazoria County to take my Magna up there.

We were lucky from here on out.  The reason for the flat was that the rubber grommet supporting the tire’s valve stems had cracked, split open or somehow been cut.  I had new tires put on the bike only two weeks ago, and though we discussed the necessity for new valve stems, I lost track of that issue when the service writer was taking down notes of everything that needed to be done.  I always, always always get new stems for new tires! 

It’s a trivial expense, and I knew very well to ask for it, but I didn’t this time. 

It cost me a day’s riding, a towing fee (a little under $200), and another charge to the shop where the bike ended up, to remove the tires and change the old stems out. 

I was also lucky that, though I had to leave my bike all night chained to a post with a cover bungee’d on it, blowing in the wind – and looking all forlorn and tempting by itself on a completely empty parking lot – I didn’t have to leave it that way for two nights.  Monday I called the shop, not expecting to hear anything more than a tape with store hours. Instead, I got a real live person at Stubbs, a mechanic at the Harley division next door, and he agreed to let me pull it into their garage for the second night.  We moved it inside, and nothing was taken, lost or scratched.

If I had been thinking – I notice that having something even mildly resembling a tank-slapper was upsetting and distracting for quite a while! – I would have asked Robbie whether the towing service had a compound, and whether I could have it taken there, instead of taking it to a dealer that wouldn’t open for two more days. 

If it happens that you need a tow, it’s worth trying to consider your options.  On the occasion when my bike caught on fire, one member of our riding party was a law enforcement officer who worked for a jurisdiction nearby.  He was able to call a buddy to bring his trailer, and they took my bike to their impound lot for the next two nights, and I slept fine.  I knew it was safe at the police station!

If you ride with friends who have a trailer, sometimes you can persuade them to pick up your bike and store it temporarily at their home or business for a few nights. 

Having to tow your bike is a bummer, no question.  This time, we were only mildly inconvenienced, all things considered – no damage to us or the bike, and everyone got safely home in time for a Sunday afternoon nap.  I could have saved some money by checking those tires first, the day I brought the bike home, but at least the stem didn’t release all the air in the front one while I was cruising through the city on three freeways. Lesson learned. 

It was also another example for me as to why you want a riding partner:  I wouldn’t have cared to handle that situation alone.  It might have occurred out in east Podunk with a storm coming on, and once the bike was taken away, I would have had a long, long walk home.

For comments, send email to Cash@msgroup.org.  For more tips on emergencies, go to www.msgroup.org.

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