Day 1 - Morning Journal Entry (part 4)

It didn't take long before everyone was at the pay phone around the corner from the Dealership, thumbing through the "Yellow Pages" looking for the nearest tire center. Easy enough if I would have been driving my car it seemed like there was a Auto tire center every other mile... sigh...

A few minutes of searching and we came up with a couple of numbers to dial, and dial we did. Out of the three that were close to us (close being relative at that time) one said they could get us in right away and have us back on the road in about 30 minutes.

Over the years I've learned that when anyone promises you they can have you on the road in 30 minutes for anything - you had better double it.

Off we went to the Shanty Shack Garage - of course we didn't know that at the time - I think it was actually called Bob's Cycles or something close to it anyway. After about 15 or 20 minutes riding across town we arrived at Bob's. It was rustic to say the least. The newest motorcycle that they had sitting out front must have been 1970's vintage. For a biker this is actually a good sign. I wouldn't let just any wrench touch a vintage bike without full 100% confidence in their ability. I rode my bike throught the rows of vintage rides to the garage entrance where I was promptly met by... Bob. Nice.... Bob was a good guy, very capable, gave me all the assurance in the world that he had a wide-white that matched the tread I was running and could get me in and out in 30 minutes. I'm still happy... I put the kick-stand down and turn the bike over to Bob. My freinds all tell me that I need to come out of the garage and let the man work. I guess I'm a bit over-protective of my bike - I can't help it I've put blood sweat and tears into this thing, it is my mechanical sweet-heart. Reluctantly I walk to the opening of the garage and lean against the wall, waiting, watching, hawking.

Looking around the shop, I don't see any motorcycle lifts - a few come-alongs strung from the rafters but no lifts. Worry starts to set in and I start to pace. Again, my friends try to distract me, some mumbo-jumbo about cool stuff in the main part of the shop. Some antiquie things I should go look at - real cheap prices on leather... they were trying everything to get me out of the garage... I wasn't having it.

Out come the floor jacks - you know, those one's you buy at the autoparts store that are rated for 2.5 tonnes... What the heck is he going to do with those? That thought didn't last long before they were shoved under the frame of my bike and Bob and his buddy started to crank my bike into the air.

It was 100% involentary, I swear, but I started to move forward, covering ground like a lion on the hunt. I must have been half way across the floor when my wife and best friend were redirecting me, again towards the door, telling me they would watch my bike but if I wanted to get on the road I needed to walk down the street and get something to drink and let this man do his job...

Calmer or at least less anxious heads prevailed, I walked down to the convienience store for a bottle of coke, stopped into the main part of the repair shop, took a look around - they did have some cool old stuff in there, and by the time I returned to the garage my bike was ready and waiting for me to take her down the road.

12:30 - still in Phoenix but it's looking promising!

Northern Arizona - Here we come!

vintage, Northern Arizona, garage,Motorcycle