That's right. Last night, my 1973 Honda CB350 decided to die on me, a few hundred feet into in bound the tunnel.
Cruising about 65 mph, it just died. Engine stalled. Headlight out. I think, "shit." Instinct told me to get to the right, as it is always moving much slower, no matter the time of day of amount of traffic. I get to the right, slowing every foot, I try to signal to the car coming up behind me that I'm having an issue, and they swerve to avoid me, and I see the cab lights of a tractor trailer coming up fast.
"Crap."
I get off, grab the bars, and push as fast as I can, getting as close to the wall as possible to maximize my chance of not dying. The truck slows down to a crawl a few car lengths behind me, flips on the flashers, and the drivers gives me a way.
"Thank god," I though as I slowed my pace trying to catch my breath.
I kept pushing as faces in cars to the left gave pondering looks.
The hole at the end grows larger as a R1 pulls up next to me and exclaims, "That fucking sucks!" through his helmet. Pulling the clutch in and letting it back out repeatedly, he rolls along with me.
We exchange varying statements about how much walking a bike through the tunnel sucks, but how it will be a great story tomorrow.
The end is near. One hundred feet. Fifty Feet. Almost there.
The guy on the R1 turns on his left signal, revs it up to get attention, and blocks off the left lane so I can push this sad machine into the center island in front of the PennDot garage.
With sweat dripping down my face, I pop my helmet off, and with a sign of relief, I look to the R1 rider and simple say, "holy shit."
He introduces himself as Jessie, and lets me know he works for a towing company, and says he will take care of me if I need it.
I had a feeling that a battery terminal bolt rattled off, so I swung open the seat, and sure enough, the negative terminal bolt was gone.
We look at each other, relived, as a PennDot hops out of his truck and says, "You sure walk fast. The truck behind you called once you broke down, and I came in looking for ya. Somehow you beat me here!"
He asks what's wrong and I tell him I just lost a bolt. He says he may have something in the garage and invites me to sort through a tool tray to find something that works. I find a screw and nut that isn't pretty but will get me home.
Jessie takes off as I get the screw on. Sure enough, the lights come back on and it starts right up.
I shake the PennDot workers hand, and he tells me that it's, "no problem, anyone who rides enough knows how it is."
Outside the Sq. Hill Tunnels by ndromb, on Flickr
It was the longest walk of my life.
Cruising about 65 mph, it just died. Engine stalled. Headlight out. I think, "shit." Instinct told me to get to the right, as it is always moving much slower, no matter the time of day of amount of traffic. I get to the right, slowing every foot, I try to signal to the car coming up behind me that I'm having an issue, and they swerve to avoid me, and I see the cab lights of a tractor trailer coming up fast.
"Crap."
I get off, grab the bars, and push as fast as I can, getting as close to the wall as possible to maximize my chance of not dying. The truck slows down to a crawl a few car lengths behind me, flips on the flashers, and the drivers gives me a way.
"Thank god," I though as I slowed my pace trying to catch my breath.
I kept pushing as faces in cars to the left gave pondering looks.
The hole at the end grows larger as a R1 pulls up next to me and exclaims, "That fucking sucks!" through his helmet. Pulling the clutch in and letting it back out repeatedly, he rolls along with me.
We exchange varying statements about how much walking a bike through the tunnel sucks, but how it will be a great story tomorrow.
The end is near. One hundred feet. Fifty Feet. Almost there.
The guy on the R1 turns on his left signal, revs it up to get attention, and blocks off the left lane so I can push this sad machine into the center island in front of the PennDot garage.
With sweat dripping down my face, I pop my helmet off, and with a sign of relief, I look to the R1 rider and simple say, "holy shit."
He introduces himself as Jessie, and lets me know he works for a towing company, and says he will take care of me if I need it.
I had a feeling that a battery terminal bolt rattled off, so I swung open the seat, and sure enough, the negative terminal bolt was gone.
We look at each other, relived, as a PennDot hops out of his truck and says, "You sure walk fast. The truck behind you called once you broke down, and I came in looking for ya. Somehow you beat me here!"
He asks what's wrong and I tell him I just lost a bolt. He says he may have something in the garage and invites me to sort through a tool tray to find something that works. I find a screw and nut that isn't pretty but will get me home.
Jessie takes off as I get the screw on. Sure enough, the lights come back on and it starts right up.
I shake the PennDot workers hand, and he tells me that it's, "no problem, anyone who rides enough knows how it is."
Outside the Sq. Hill Tunnels by ndromb, on Flickr
It was the longest walk of my life.
