Let the adventure really begin! The bikes were waiting…

60 miles to the border. We mount up the bikes purr to life and off we go. The last exit before crossing back into the States, Ohno pulls off at the last exit to decide whether to gas up or risk it and wait until the American side for cheaper gas. He knows he's low and the KTM has a way of surprising us. He asks if I'm on reserve yet. I am not. The 10 miles or so left should be no problem. We pull back on the highway.

Wasn't but a few minutes later Molly sputtered and the engine died. Dang, missed it. I switched her to reserve and hit the start button, nothing. So I coast to the side of the highway about 400 meters from the border station and try again. Absolutely nothing. I check to see if I hit the kill switch by accident. Nope. I turn the key off and the on again. No go. I put the side stand down and kick her back up, still nothing. I mean not even an attempt to turn. Zip, Zilch, Nada. By this time Ohno had pulled over and ran back to assist. He also tried to fire her up to no avail.

We thought we'd try and get her across and then figure out what happened. This wasn't the first time she had done this. On our December Florida trip she did the same thing. We pulled into a gas station for a plan of action moment and when I went to fire her back up .. nothing. Luckily that was at the end of that trip.

We put a new battery in her this spring. Several hundred miles later it seemed like that was all she needed. Or so we thought.

We push her up to Ohno's bike and pull off the side cover.

And jump start her from Ohno's bike.

She fires right up. We button up real quick and head to the border station. 200 meters and she just dies again. I coast to the shoulder. A border safety patrol guy in a yellow safety vest sees us and walks over to Ohno several meters ahead of me. No, he can't go back and help the damsel in distress it could be a terrorist plot.

Safety Man saunters back to escort me while I push my bike up to the checkpoint.

Ohno goes through first and explains things. I'm next. The border patrol agent asks his typical yes sir-no sir questions then says with a smirk, "I hear ya broke your bike."

"Uh, yeah I seem to have a knack for that."

"That's not a good knack to have."

"No it's not."

"What else have you broke?"

"Oh, a van, a computer, an oven … it all started last fall with a rake. I'm getting quite a reputation."

He laughs and wishes me luck on the rest of my journey, which was to push Molly through exiting traffic, past the big highway sign, out of the green zone and into a spot where big rig trucks exit from the trucking side.

Ohno gets on the phone to call some nearby dealerships for assistance. Unfortunately, we had forgotten the BMW owners anonymous guide.

Safety Guy saunters back over. "See that fence next to ya? See how it stops suddenly? There used to be another section there. Last week a truck's brakes failed. You are in a dangerous spot. You should move further down the highway while you figure this out." Meanwhile, Ohno had found a dealer with a trailer willing to come pick her up and take a look at her. We couldn't wait there, so Ohno pulls out the tow strap.

Now I am not fond of being towed. Actually, it scares the crap out of me. And when I get nervous I tend to drop bikes. On top of that I really don't like the idea of taking two out at once. That'd really put a damper on dinner the next night.

"We've got to get the bike to a place where the guy can pick it up from. We'll stay on the shoulder and take it nice and slow, like walking speed." says Ohno. "Why can't I just walk it?" "Too far and too dangerous on the highway." Uh. yeah. right.

Running dialogue in my head, abridged and censored for general audiences:

Alright slack is on the strap. Here we go. This is stupid. A little tug. That wasn't so bad. We're going over 20 mph WTF? That's not walking speed. I'm never gonna get my lobster. OMG, obstacles. Bagged construction signs to maneuver around. Geez I hope those cars move over. Why are you slowing down? Brake. Crap, not the front brake. Dang. That wasn't pretty. OK. Rear brake. What about a light steady drag on the rear? Oh. that's better. I think I'm getting it. Downhill. More rear brake. Keep the strap tight. A stop sign ahead? Did I say this was stupid? Oh crap. We've got to left turn on that busy street. I'm gonna die in New York state. Maybe they'll feed me to the lobsters. Wouldn't that be ironic. "Here we go, you ready?" No. I'm not ready. I wasn't ready 3 miles back. I'm certainly not ready now. A break in traffic. You better go now. Not too fast on the turn, please. I should close my eyes. No. No. Bad idea. Oh, that wasn't so bad. I really think I'm getting the hang of this. This could be worse, it could be raining. Stop light? Oh no. We're off the highway. We're good aren't we? Just pull off in that corner lot on the right. Whew. I'm not dead!

Ohno calls the guy with the trailer, gives him our location, we head across the road to the fitting Last Chance Saloon and it starts to rain.

Freewheeling Cycle was a Kawasaki dealership that lost its franchise. The guy that came to pick up the bike was the service manager himself. These guys did everything they could to get my bike back on the road in spite of the political BS they were dealing with in closing the shop in the near future.

Another new battery and Molly fired up but her voltage output wasn't reading good.

We figured we probably fried the voltage regulator back in December. Not a part any nearby BMW dealerships has on hand. It's not worth the risk taking her to Maine. Since this is a quick trip, and we have a date for dinner, we want to get on the road. Freewheeling is willing to hold the bike until we get back and we can try to limp her home. So two-up on the KTM we go.

I am quite disappointed, but at least we are still moving forward. Someone here on the forum stated that it's not an adventure unless you are not sure you're going to make it home. By that definition, this is definitely an adventure.

We ride up toward Lake Ontario, both a little sullen. We find a little park on the coast and stop to readjust, both mentally and physically. Do you see how much room is behind Ohno for me to sit on that plank Renazco calls a seat? Yes, it's an upgrade. No, it's not much more comfortable than stock.

But it can always be worse, just ask this guy:

We pull in to Oswego for the night and find a really nice brew pub/hotel call King Arthur's.

Oswego is a college town on Lake Ontario with some very cool alley bars and really bad karaoke singers.

Ohno plays with his new camera, marveling at its low light capability and facial recognition ability.

These college-smart spiders have it made! Their webs are full of little insects.

We even found homage to our imaginary employee, Colleen.

It was a beautiful night to walk the river, enjoy the moonlight and re-calibrate my thinking from rider to pillion. I don't mind riding two-up once and awhile, but there it something about riding single that helps me focus on what I need to blow out of my mind. I don't process as well two-up, too much time for my brain to wander in various directions, and not as much engagement with my surroundings. Yes, I was still disappointed. I was really looking forward to cleaning those gears in my head. But I also know that if you keep looking back, dwelling on the disappointments in life, you end up missing what's coming ahead and I didn't want to miss a thing.