Travels with Ultra Blue (Part Breakdown #1)

 The road slipped like jelly under the rear tire. Interrupted from thought, the motorcycle attempted to barrel roll – literally I struggled to keep the front tire straight with every muscle in my upper body while at the same time trying to gradually give the front brakes more pressure. It happened so quick! Then stranded in the middle of Oregon late at night along Interstate 5, over 150 miles south of Portland.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” I came to a complete stop and pulled to the middle median. The shoulder of the road was several feet wide and the median was made up of a concrete barrier as tall as a small kid. There were multiple tire treads sprayed across the face of it like one of those Pollock paintings. I paused in disbelief then dismounted the bike and examined the back tire, it was completely flat to where I could squeeze it with one hand. The time read midnight.

“OK, OK WHAT DO I DO?” I scrambled to get my backpack opened and with the flashlight out. This was the flashlight that my father being the good man that he is, reminded me to take with me despite my idiot assurance that I would not need it and yet there I was, eating my words. I lit my face with the light then out came a three trailer semi around the corner. Without thinking yet again, I got out in the middle of the road and flashed an S.O.S. towards the diesel machine until the truck came to a stop. I doubt it was the signal, but more the fact that some kid was standing in the middle of the road. This was I guess my post high school graduation trip, or more like a way for me to escape the issues back home whether it was due to girl issues, the crossroads of life, or too much freedom. Ultimately the destination in mind was to see my grandfather who had cancer. Right then however, I was not making good time. 

The passenger door opens and right there I thought about what I should say or ask. The truth was that my dream was slowly spiraling into a nightmare and I was devastated by the blow. Granted I didn’t get hurt or die at all – but I wasn’t going anywhere that night. Desperate for a vague quick fix to get back on the road the first words that came out of my mouth were,

“Do you have one of those things that fixes tires?” He looked puzzled while giving me a good stare over the diesel engine's loud cranks - studying me with a look of 'who is this kid?'

“Listen, I can take you down to Rice Hill about 14 miles down the road. They have a truck stop.” Without thinking twice I climbed in and LEFT MY BIKE IN THE MEDIAN! How am I still alive today? You don’t get on board a stranger’s truck, he could have been Ed Gein’s brother hiding from the FBI as a trucker. There are some things in this life that you just don’t do and I broke all the rules that night. The guy had on a baseball cap along with a Green Bay Packers shirt. An older fellow, very calm and to himself. He had a light grizzly beard, couple of scars on his hands and forearms. There was a faint stench of stale Coke and the plastic of the dashboard. His eyes were straight towards the road never giving me one look.

He probably figured if I was that dangerous he could just grab the 12 gauge on his left side. I never rode in a semi before. It felt as if I was elevated from the road in a large cockpit looking down on the Geos and Prius’. The view from up here made the road look very narrow and the signs and shrubbery were miniature. The headlights were flawless, reaching about a football field’s distance. He was shifting about 12 times to get up to speed again. While going he was asking me some technical questions about my flat which interrupted the rhythmic tones of the engine's humming.

“So is your tire a tube or a tubeless?” His composure then shifted from calm to wanting to fix the problem quickly, he seemed more alert and quick to respond,

“Well, I think it’s..."

“They got this can of foam that you spray into your flat tire and it gives you enough to go 30 miles to a tire place, Fix-o-Flat that’s what they call it.” 

“30 miles really?”

“Oh yeah” Shifting into another gear he continued, “So it really all depends on your tire.” The conversation was heading towards nothing but bad news I could feel it.

“What’s the difference between a tube and tubeless?” I inquired, he then gave me explanations between the two. While he was talking, I thought very deeply about what it might’ve been. Suzuki manufactured the bike in 1977 and the bike still had the stock tires, with their technology then it would have be simpler. Tubeless was an innovative way to make it easier to purchase tires and that didn’t come out until maybe the 80’s or early 90’s so it would probably be…

“Tube they’re tube” I said feeling relieved for some reason. He looked over very stern and then with a distinct tone replied,

“Then you’re screwed.”