The OFMC Leaves One Behind
Monday, July 28th, 2014Our summer ride continued as planned after leaving the Black Hills–except for one of us. We left Buffalo, Wyoming, and crossed the Bighorn Mountains, through Ten Sleep and Worland, on our way to Riverton.
A funny thing happened on the way to Riverton: Friggs didn’t get there. At least not under his own power.
I was bringing up the rear, with Brett in front of me and Friggs in front of him. The other guys were pulling away up ahead and I was getting annoyed that Friggs was not picking up the speed. Apparently Brett was, too, because he blasted around him. Immediately afterward, Friggs turned on his turn signal and pulled onto the shoulder. I followed. I stayed on my bike while he fiddled with the throttle a bit and then he started moving, slowly, along the shoulder. I followed.
After a ways Friggs picked up speed and we pulled back onto the highway. We hadn’t gone far when Brett came along going the other way, coming back to see what was going on. He turned around and pulled in behind me and we cruised into Shoshoni, where Friggs pulled into the parking lot of the local school. Turns out he didn’t choose to pull over there, the bike quit on him and he coasted into the lot.
Brett and Friggs got on their phones looking for assistance while I walked over to the police department, just across the street, where we nearly got lucky. I explained the situation and asked the officer if there was a towing service in town. He said no, there was not, but right at that moment a tow truck he had called to pick up an abandoned vehicle was 13 minutes late. He was going to Riverton and maybe he could load the bike on, too.
Just then the truck pulled in but the guy had to decline because he had no chains to strap the bike down. So close, no cigar.
So we hung out for the next two hours (it was hot; you can see the temperature on the sign in the photo) until the truck arrived and he had the Fat Boy loaded on. The bike had to go to Lander but he dropped Friggs off with us in Riverton. The next morning we rode on to Lander, John carrying Friggs’s bag and Bill giving his brother a lift. (He ain’t heavy, father, he’s my brother.)
The diagnosis was a broken rocker and there was no way to get parts today. And it was Friday. We left Friggs in Lander, where his lady friend was going to drive up and they would spend a few days vacationing, more or less. When the bike is ready they’ll make the trip back to Denver together. And to my knowledge, this event is still in the future.
We rode on across central Wyoming to Rawlins, hopped on I-80 briefly, and then turned south through Saratoga and Encampment, into Colorado for our night’s stop in Walden. Now here’s a sign of the times: the motel has signs posted saying no marijuana is allowed on the premises. I wonder if that’s legal. The times they are a changing.
Next morning was just the ride home. John headed southwest to his home in Montrose and the rest of us ran down the Poudre Canyon. The Poudre was at its finest, green and beautiful. We turned off on to the Stove Prairie road, figuring to connect with the Buckhorn road and get to Loveland that way but at Stove Prairie the road was blocked saying there was no access to Masonville in that direction.
We turned up toward Rist Canyon but at the top of the hill the road went two ways, something I don’t recall noticing before. I was in the lead and I turned left but that didn’t take us down Rist Canyon at all. It was a steep, curvy road that I liked but the Harley boys didn’t and it dumped us into LaPorte, where we picked up US 287. Most of these guys live on the west side of town so they didn’t want to go east to I-25 and then have to go west again, so we went down 287.
Oh my gosh, what congestion. Fort Collins has grown way south and Loveland has grown way north so there is almost no separation at all between them. And then there’s Berthoud and Longmont and everywhere there is huge growth. Along this route we split and went our separate ways and this year’s trip was at an end.
Biker Quote for Today
When I was younger I was afraid I’d die riding. Now that I’m old and falling apart, I’m afraid I won’t.