Last summer I di
scovered how hard it is to walk when your feet are broken. This summer I learned how hard it is to roll when your motorcycle tire goes flat.
The first day of our recent motorcycle tour was relatively uneventful. We left home about 7:30 a.m. on a gorgeous, clear September morning. I love the first day of a trip because everything is all neat and tidy, freshly laundered and packed, arranged just so on the motorcycle and looking good. Within the next couple of days that will change as you load and unload, pack and unpack and wear items for the second and third day in a row (yuk).
Our destination for day one was Twin Falls, Idaho – about 487 miles. The day was warm, we were soon stripped down to our short sleeved shirts and the miles were piling up behind us. We arrived in Twin Falls safe and sound, checked into our motel and grabbed dinner.
The next morning we were off by 8:00 a.m. The ‘boys’ (my husband and brother-in-law) said we had to make time if we were going to do all the exploring in Colorado we had planned. Because of that we hit the interstate instead of a nice winding scenic route. I sat back and did what I always do when we are on a freeway, prayed that the steady stream of trucks wouldn’t blow us off the road, that no speeding car would cut us off, and that we would be protected from any other harmful incident.
Forty eight miles later things came to a crashing halt. (Luckily the term “crashing” is not being used in the literal sense here.) My biker hubby sensed something amiss at the first wobble and had the bike slowed and almost stopped when the back tire went completely flat. We experienced the blow out of a front tire a couple of years ago and it was very scary, the out of control bike propelling us over into the oncoming lane of traffic. This recent incident was much less dramatic. However,it still left us sitting on the side of the freeway with 70 mile an hour traffic whizzing by. Oh the blessing of cell phones! We were able to call the HOG towing line and get assistance. A very, very nice young man showed up, loaded the Harley on his flatbed, and hauled us back to Twin Falls. It did take a few hours out of our travel time but had it not been for one teeny, tiny honey bee flying in the tow truck window and stinging me on the bridge of my nose, it would have been no big deal.
The bee sting definitely made the experience memorable. My face went numb, my nose and eyes were swollen for a couple of days and I had to make serious threats to keep the boys from taking pictures.
By shortly after noon we were back on the road and I was reflecting on:
- How God is always faithful and how the prayer I always say at the start of the day for safety pays off.
- How keeping things in good working order is key. That goes for the vehicles we ride and the life we live.
- How things can go wrong even when you’ve taken every precaution so you need to be prepared with a plan B and an 800 number. The number for the HOG tow line is always handy on the bike. My direct line to the Father is within easy access wherever I go. I access it often.
- Oh – and nothing spiritual about this one. You can look good in your leathers, but a bee sting to the nose can definitely take the wind out of your vanity. Ironic that the tire deflated at about the same rate that my face inflated.
Guard my life, for I am faithful to you; save your servant who trusts in you. You are my God… Psalm 86:2
