Dang it anyway, I just realized I posted the diesel fuel disaster on the wrong day, it actually happened on the 30th when we rode from Wiseman (Coldfoot) to Fairbanks. Duh... Guess I must have been tired when I accessed the blog so I'll do a brief re-do of the events. One thing I've yet to figure out on this blog site is how to copy and paste text, it just doesn't look possible so if anyone reading this knows how please post a comment on how to do it. Thenkuvermuch...
Anyway, onward to the day after our run down from Deadhorse to Wiseman. This was not our best day.
Imagine if you will what happens when a person of advancing years is yakking it up with someone else while at the same time attempting to refuel his bike... Moreover imagine that same said person has two choices of fuel to be dispensed from the same pump albeit from identical blue hoses but with different nozzels, one green for diesel and the other black for benzino (gasoline, eh?) Yakkety yak yak yak... Moving right along inquiring minds might pose the question "Just how far might an Aprilia go when presented with a full tank of #2 diesel? 5 miles perhaps?" Yesiree, 5 miles to be exact. After that it's kaput, d-e-d, the end. In a previous blog entry I went to great lengths to be clever about this entire incident and then in the true spirit of things posted it to the wrong date. After discovering the error of this I've decided enough damage has already been done and admission to this ridiculous blunder will no doubt provide adequate entertainment by itself. In short we spent several hours removing and draining the fuel tank, cleaning the spark plug, returning to Coldfoot to refuel and sell the remaining 5 gallons of diesel stored in my back-up fuel cans before finally getting back on the road.
ONWARD we said and so we did. For several hours in fact. Unfortunately while leaving the Yukon river camp restaurant I heard an ominous grinding clunking scary-as-hell noise coming from the undercarriage. Mac had already left a few minutes earlier so I stopped to see wuz up. It turned out that the chain was clogged with mud and debris from our latest slog through the local water hazard so I hosed it down with chain spray. That seemed to help but after riding a few miles it became noisier and I stopped to adjust the chain slack. Nope, not possible without a jack and guess who had the only one? Not me. Deciding the only course of action left was to ride on at greatly reduced speed I set out and after a few miles spotted Mac on his way back looking for me. We jacked the damn thing up, adjusted out the excess slack and once more set out for Fairbanks. We arrived in Fairbanks at 12:30am only to discover the liquor stores close at midnight, a very inhospitable ordinance if I may say so. Cruising around after midnight covered with mud and looking for a motel isn't the easiest thing to accomplish but we located one desperate enough to accept us (Motel 8) and we were in for the night. Mac's brain had apparently gone into superwarp mode as he decided he needed to do laundry while mine opted for gin & tonics. I admit there are times when my superior intellect shines through.
PS - The photo of me draining the diesel may appear as some bodily function. It is not that.
1 comment:
Yep, it definitely appeared as a bodily function!
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