Day 3 with Some Pictures

I woke up at 6:15, intending to hit the road early.  My goal was to make it into New Brunswick and later Quebec to try to make the ferry at Matane.

But this is how my day started out:

I brought all the tools with me and I knew how to change the tire, but it's a royal pain to change a flat on a motorcycle.  It's messy and it takes a lot of work to get the tire back on the rim using only hand tools.

I had the tire off in a short time:

At least it wasn't raining.

I took a look at the old tube and noticed it was pinched in a couple of spots. 

I automatically assumed that it had a pinch leak, which caused a slow loss of air.  I went ahead and put another tube in its place.  I got help from the kids in the next site and it took three of us to muscle the tire back on the rim.

I was feeling pretty good about my skills and decided to patch the old tube in case I needed it over the next two weeks.  Running it under some water I discovered that it wasn't pinched at all, it had a puncture.  I patched it and then looked at the place in the tire where the puncture occurred and discovered this:

My mistake was that I had installed and then inflated the new tube with the nail still embedded in the tire.  I should have started all over again, but I was in such a rush I decided to push on as the tire seemed to be holding air.

I drove to a nearby gas station and checked the tire again and it was holding pressure.  I turned onto my route for the day, which would take me into more remote areas of Maine.  After about 15 minutes I was doing 50 mph on this two lane country road, looking around for a place to pull over and check the tire.  Then it happened.

BAM!  The rear tube exploded in a catastrophic failure, which sent the tire off the rim and the bike out of control.  The handlebars were going back and forth and the rear end had a mind of its own.  I knew enough not to grab the brakes and to just try to coast to a stop.  The bike started fishtailing and heading towards and then onto the sandy shoulder.  I thought I was definitely going to crash, but as long as the bike stayed upright I didn't give up.  I saw a telephone pole but kept looking ahead and missed it.  Eventually the bike stopped right on the shoulder/pavement line.  I held it up and just sat there stunned for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, not believing that I didn't crash.  I took off my helmet and tried to get my composure.  I couldn't put the kickstand down because the bike was too low to the ground.  I had to set the bike down on its left side.

This is the path the bike had just taken

 

tire off rim, note the deformed bead

Where the bike left the highway and entered the shoulder

the telephone pole I just missed and my path

I got cell service and called the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA) roadside assistance number.  The operator told me that my coverage didn't begin until September 1!  When I explained I had the coverage last year and had just renewed it she said she couldn't confirm it with the AMA because they were closed on weekends!  They would send a truck out to me for only $124.99 however.

They did notify the police and first the local sheriff's office and then the state police called me.  Neither could send a unit, but the state police gave me the number of local tow truck operator from Millinocket.  I called him at home and he told me it would be an hour and a half before he could get to me. 

As I waited most every passerby stopped and asked if I needed help.  Some gave me the name of a local gentleman and his shop and said he might be able to help me get the tire fixed.

Eventually the tow truck driver, John, showed up and he was nice.  As he was looking over the bike two other motorcyclists stopped by and asked if we needed help.  John said that we did so the male rider helped us winch my bike onto his flatbed.  His wife, who was riding with him, (they were coming from church and had a Bible strapped to the back seat of the Harley) was the sister-in-law of the local shop owner.  She called him and he agreed to help me.

I met him at the shop and within 45 minutes we had replaced the tube.  The only tube he had was a 19" and mine takes a 17", but he said it would get me home.  We looked over the tire, the beading was a bit deformed but the owner thought it would be okay.

the old tube

I decided that my best course of action was to cancel my Labrador trip and just head home.  I didn't want to make the rest of the trip on the wrong size tube.  But most importantly the thought of nearly dying and having my son lose his father took any energy out of me.

I got on I-95 in Medway and headed south, hoping to get home sometime before dark that night.  The first few miles were tough, with a lot of PTSD about blowing the tube.

Over an hour later I was riding through Bangor, doing 70mph in the passing lane when it happened again.  BAM!.  The rear tube blew again, sending me fishtailing all over the highway.  The traffic wasn't too heavy and all the cars got behind me and slowed way down as I guided the bike across to the breakdown lane.  Again, I thought I was going to go down but I wasn't as scared as the first time.  Somehow (maybe because of all the weight over the back wheel) the bike stayed upright.  It took me a few moments to get control of myself as I dismounted from the bike and assessed my situation.  I was stuck on the paved shoulder, so if I could get the bike up on the center stand I could change the tire myself. 

I stood there holding the bike for a while, hoping someone would stop to help me.  I thought it was obvious that I needed help by the flat tire, but no one ever stopped.  I even tried waving.  Nothing.  I gave up on that and set the bike on its side and removed all the heavy luggage from it.  I tried to get the bike up on the stand again but couldn't lift it.  I tried for about 10 minutes before finally getting it to the tipping point and heaving it backwards onto the stand. 

My previous blow-out delayed me for four hours so I wasn't about to call for service again.  I went to work, right on the side of the busy highway, weekenders heading home, zooming by, and changed the tire myself.  It took about an hour but I got it done.  Luckily I had the patched tube from this morning; it would have been impossible to find the leak in the tube on the side of the highway.  This time the tire went on the rim very easy, too easy, which made me worried that the cord and bead was definitely damaged or stretched. 

I gave up going for home as I was scared and exhausted.  I hadn't eaten all day except for two pop tarts.  I hit the gps for a motel and found one about a mile away. 

I checked into the room and really lost it emotionally.  I had done a good job keeping myself under control in order to get out of trouble, but here, where I was finally safe, it was different.  I thought a lot about my son and how I could have easily died twice in one day.  I also had no clue how I was going to get home, almost 300 miles away.  This was easily one of the worst days of my life.

After calming down I called a couple of friends and talked over what had happened.  They both felt that the tire was the problem and needed to be replaced immediately.  My gps showed me there was a motorcycle dealer less than a mile from the motel and according to their website they were open on Monday, a rarity.  (Another reason to love GPS technology and smart phones!)

I treated myself to a dinner at Ground Round, steak and shrimp, and it was amazing.  I felt a lot better but noticed that the rear tire was wobbly when I just rode it down the street.  I was concerned that I had bent the rim.  But there was nothing more I could do that night.

Total mileage:  86
Riding Day:  8 hours, 39 minutes
Moving:  2 hours, 25 minutes
Stopped:  6 hours, 14 minutes