JDOCKERY132445
OldBMWMaster
My wife and I had been preparing for our ride to the IBMWR Low Country Boil in Tybee Island for weeks. I had washed my Roadcrafter and refreshed its waterproofing, ordered new PR3s for the bike, changed the oil, checked all the fluids, charged up the GoPro, found a puppy sitter for our two dogs [we usually take them, but the Dunes Resort raised the price of a dog fee to what our room was costing] and carefully packed only what I needed. My wife's packing is another story.
The weather was absolutely incredible. Sunny, with temps in the 60s. The ride down the coastal highway was filled with vistas of old oaks hanging heavy with Spanish moss and estuaries teeming with wildlife. Darkness began to fall just before Mount Pleasant/Charleston and my vision got really bad. It was soon apparent that I had not contracted some rare ocular malady; but that oil was coating my windscreen.
Like any good BMW rider, I pulled into the Starbucks just before getting on I-526 to bypass Charleston and make it to Dorchester, SC and the farm of our old roommate, Heather. I checked the oil level and it was still OK. Evidently, it only takes a small amount of oil spraying a windscreen to cause a problem with vision. I cleaned everything and we set off to Heather's. The problem got worse. We finally found the farm and punched the gate code in. Heather was all hugs; but I had to wait until I got out of my now very oily Roadcrafter. I decided that Pat's [her boyfriend] offer of a Scotch was much more important than assessing the damage to the bike.
The evening meal was venison steaks and seared vegetables with plenty of wine. The shower and bed was a welcome way to end the very long day.
In the morning, Pat pulled out a piece of plywood and we put the bike on it. My horn bracket had come loose and allowed the horn to rub against an oil line. I removed the horn; went to NAPA and got two quarts of oil and brake cleaner. Once I got everything cleaned up, a half quart of oil filled the bike to center bubble. Evidently this problem was not as bad as it looked. I was soon proved wrong.
A big breakfast of incredible maple smoked venison sausage and eggs made us ready for the remainder of the trip. I thanked Pat, kissed Heather and off we went with a quart and a half of oil.
Barbie has a friend who lives near the Old Sheldon Church in Yemasee, SC that she wanted to visit. We had an entire day to make it to Tybee, so why not.
I kept my speed down and enjoyed the scenery through the oily film. I would first get oil on the windscreen, lower the screen, get oil on my visor, raise my visor, get oil on my shade visor, raise that, get oil on my glasses; then stop and clean it all. By the time we reached Old Sheldon Church, my concerns were growing. On the way down the dirt road to Jennifer's [Barbie's friend], Barbie got to experience her first wheelie. A yellow dog came out of nowhere charging the bike. I nailed it and the front tire went airborne. She did not panic and hung on as I used my old motocross skills to keep us going in a sttraight line and away from the jaws of yellow death.
Jennifer came out with a beer and old towels. I began to clean as she and Barbie toured the farm of dogs, sheep, goats, guineas, chickens and ducks. I put in the last quart of oil and knew the problem had gotten significantly worse. I tried to find a pickup truck to transport the bike, but there is no such thing as a none-way pickup rental. Finally frustrated, I went inside and Jennifer and Barbie were gleefully knocking down red wine and enjoying a feast. I joined them and Jennifer logged me on to her computer. I finally found a moving truck from Penske. Hugs and kisses and on the road to Tybee.
By the time we got to Tybee, we were soaked in oil, as the leak had in fact worsened. We pulled into the parking lot in a cloud of smoke and dripping oil. I received the "hard luck" mug of beer and my kind friends helped us push the bike to our room and put lots of cardboard under it so we would not ruin the parking lot. Barbie and Amber grabbed each other and started drinking.
Friday night was a great party at Stingrays with great food and BIG cans of PBR. I hit the bed early, but the girls partied on.
Jerry Duke gave us a ride to Home Depot on Saturday to pick up the Penske truck. Loading was easy and John gave us some straps to tie it down with.
The Saturday night Boil was incredible. John Barry brought an IPA and a Stout that he brewed. I usually am a Stout drinker, but this year's IPA was my favorite.
We pulled out on Sunday and hit I-95. No traffic problems and no drama.
I am now waiting on the 4 oil lines to repair my bike. I have oil all over the carport and parts lying everywhere. Of course it is great riding weather too. 70 degrees in December and I am forced to sit on the beach and fish. Such a horrible life.
The weather was absolutely incredible. Sunny, with temps in the 60s. The ride down the coastal highway was filled with vistas of old oaks hanging heavy with Spanish moss and estuaries teeming with wildlife. Darkness began to fall just before Mount Pleasant/Charleston and my vision got really bad. It was soon apparent that I had not contracted some rare ocular malady; but that oil was coating my windscreen.
Like any good BMW rider, I pulled into the Starbucks just before getting on I-526 to bypass Charleston and make it to Dorchester, SC and the farm of our old roommate, Heather. I checked the oil level and it was still OK. Evidently, it only takes a small amount of oil spraying a windscreen to cause a problem with vision. I cleaned everything and we set off to Heather's. The problem got worse. We finally found the farm and punched the gate code in. Heather was all hugs; but I had to wait until I got out of my now very oily Roadcrafter. I decided that Pat's [her boyfriend] offer of a Scotch was much more important than assessing the damage to the bike.
The evening meal was venison steaks and seared vegetables with plenty of wine. The shower and bed was a welcome way to end the very long day.
In the morning, Pat pulled out a piece of plywood and we put the bike on it. My horn bracket had come loose and allowed the horn to rub against an oil line. I removed the horn; went to NAPA and got two quarts of oil and brake cleaner. Once I got everything cleaned up, a half quart of oil filled the bike to center bubble. Evidently this problem was not as bad as it looked. I was soon proved wrong.
A big breakfast of incredible maple smoked venison sausage and eggs made us ready for the remainder of the trip. I thanked Pat, kissed Heather and off we went with a quart and a half of oil.
Barbie has a friend who lives near the Old Sheldon Church in Yemasee, SC that she wanted to visit. We had an entire day to make it to Tybee, so why not.
I kept my speed down and enjoyed the scenery through the oily film. I would first get oil on the windscreen, lower the screen, get oil on my visor, raise my visor, get oil on my shade visor, raise that, get oil on my glasses; then stop and clean it all. By the time we reached Old Sheldon Church, my concerns were growing. On the way down the dirt road to Jennifer's [Barbie's friend], Barbie got to experience her first wheelie. A yellow dog came out of nowhere charging the bike. I nailed it and the front tire went airborne. She did not panic and hung on as I used my old motocross skills to keep us going in a sttraight line and away from the jaws of yellow death.
Jennifer came out with a beer and old towels. I began to clean as she and Barbie toured the farm of dogs, sheep, goats, guineas, chickens and ducks. I put in the last quart of oil and knew the problem had gotten significantly worse. I tried to find a pickup truck to transport the bike, but there is no such thing as a none-way pickup rental. Finally frustrated, I went inside and Jennifer and Barbie were gleefully knocking down red wine and enjoying a feast. I joined them and Jennifer logged me on to her computer. I finally found a moving truck from Penske. Hugs and kisses and on the road to Tybee.
By the time we got to Tybee, we were soaked in oil, as the leak had in fact worsened. We pulled into the parking lot in a cloud of smoke and dripping oil. I received the "hard luck" mug of beer and my kind friends helped us push the bike to our room and put lots of cardboard under it so we would not ruin the parking lot. Barbie and Amber grabbed each other and started drinking.
Friday night was a great party at Stingrays with great food and BIG cans of PBR. I hit the bed early, but the girls partied on.
Jerry Duke gave us a ride to Home Depot on Saturday to pick up the Penske truck. Loading was easy and John gave us some straps to tie it down with.
The Saturday night Boil was incredible. John Barry brought an IPA and a Stout that he brewed. I usually am a Stout drinker, but this year's IPA was my favorite.
We pulled out on Sunday and hit I-95. No traffic problems and no drama.
I am now waiting on the 4 oil lines to repair my bike. I have oil all over the carport and parts lying everywhere. Of course it is great riding weather too. 70 degrees in December and I am forced to sit on the beach and fish. Such a horrible life.
