Fuel Stop Follies

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Bill Lumberg

Merica
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Last week, I left the promised land in north Georgia to travel south. I needed to get photos of a site for Tour of Honor. True to form, I didn't stop for gas until I had to stop for gas. The goal was to get to the site, and back through zombieland before rush hour traffic built. A strictly surgical run. As such, I stopped at a random exit for gas, fueling on the bike. This meant removing my givi tankloc bag and placing it on the rear seat, after removing my wallet from it. As I fueled, I was overjoyed to find that I had selected the slowest gas pump in America. This gave me plenty of time to notice that the real estate upon which I was perched was distinctly sub-prime. I was soon the subject of too-close-for-comfort walk-bys courtesy of some folks that appeared to be domestically challenged. Shiny red FJR glowing like a curious beacon to the disenfranchised. Then, as I was considering just cutting bait and filling up the rest of the way somewhere else, I observed a gentleman walk behind a sort of dumpster enclosure and smoke, what I assume to be a tiny light colored pebble of tobacco, from a cleverly devised clear glass or plastic pipe. It was time to go, as I am no stranger to the dangers of secondhand smoke. I buttoned up the tank, made a U-turn, and got back on the interstate. Just as I got to cruising speed, I noticed- no tank bag. It was still sitting on the rear seat behind me. I will not admit that I put the bike in cruise, reached back, and reattached the bag mid-flight, but if I had, I would have done it when I was not around other traffic. The pics were great. And I made it back to the promised land before gridlock was established.

 
Lucky save. Glad it came out OK for you. I am familiar with that type of fuel stop. They are especially interesting after dark. When a potential disaster turns out well I call it an adventure.
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Bruce and Bryan McCrary and I were doing the Waffle House SS 2000 ride to end up at the IBA Pizza party in JAX one year. Our next to last fuel stop needed to be near the intersection of I-4 East and I-95 North. Easy I said, I know the area and there's a Hess Station at International Speedway Drive which is one exit North on I-95.

It got interesting when we pulled in to realize that it was bike week and the Hess station had become the defacto HQ for a group of folks who had stretched out 15,000 rpm crotch rockets and there were at least thirty of them sitting around and revving engines and generally showing off. We did not fit in with our aux tanks and CB radios.

Via CB Bryan pointed out that we didn't look like we fit in very well and that we should just gas and go. My suggestion that we walk around and meet folks and offer to share our beef jerky and fig newtons was not well received. We did a gas and go and got out unharmed but I must confess that I did reassure myself that I knew where "Betsey" was and that there was ready access to her.
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Glad you still have your tank bag.

 
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Glad you escaped second-hand crack smoke, Bill Lumberg. Seems to be a plague of rural America no matter which direction you travel.

 
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So my friend Patrick is touring northern Thailand on a rented motorcycle. He borrowed my Spot Tracker for the trip. It's been fun watching his tracks over the past couple of days. The Spot transmits your location every ten minutes. I have the app loaded on my Iphone that shows the pings on a map. Last night I got a text from him that he lost a bag off the back of his bike and the Spot is in the bag. Could I please send him the last known coordinates. I texted him the last location and also the location of the police station nearest the last known Spot location. I then took a screen shot of the location as shown on the app and texted that to him.

Here is the story as told by Patrick.
"First of , everything is fine. I just screwed up this morning while getting gasoline and left a bag sitting on the back of the bike. It fell in the roadway as I drove off and someone picked it up and took it home.
Turns out, in this high-tech world, the spot tracking device was in the bag and Jeff checked online and send me the GPS coordinates by text. I found the police station and they got a whole Hawaii 5O on us and were able to locate the address from the GPS coordinates. I rode out to the house with four police officers and they retrieved my bag with camera and The tracking device.

The poor woman who found it looked quite dismayed. She said she had waited a long time before taking it home. The police took pictures of her ID, and another with her and I together along with the bag. I have no idea if they consider Her a potential good Samaritan or a person of interest. I apologize for creating so much trouble for everyone.

Meanwhile, back at the station, all the cops pose for a group photos with me and the bag. Not having any donuts handy, I gave a bunch of fancy Cliff bars and sweets to the detective.
Then it was back into the official report. The officer and I sat and he dictated the report two and efficient and attractive Thai woman with excellent penmanship. She hand wrote the report, making a carbon copy. We all signed it and I got the carbon copy. Interesting contrast between high-tech and old school.

So, I got on the road three hours late but have an adventure to talk about.
I hope I finally learned a lesson, having done this before.

The Bumbleheaded adventurer


 
used to travel for weekends with a large tail bag on the zx14. Bag was big enough to hold everything and more and hence on one of those trip i decided during a fuel stop to rearrange the bag to be more compact and nice. And now more space i went ahead and put my wallet also in there which i never done before. So now the bag is full with my dslr, additional lens, go pros, ipad etc. And off i went after a fuel stop to the next one. Checked my pocket couldn't find the wallet then i remember its in the bag. Turn around and "boooom" no bag. Then i painfully remember i probably did not hook it up after the last stop. Phone with me and trying frantically to come up with a plan B. Finally decided to go back and trace the steps in a last minute attempt. Fuel almost over, sun light almost over, and i am loosing hope, hoping i dont get stopped since licence and papers in the bag. And voila some body had found it about a mile away from gas stop before a ramp to highway, they put that bag up on one of the pole. One of the best gifts i ever got. There are lot of good people in the world unlike what the media will have you believe.

So Moral of the story is Zx14 is a very nice ride and stable platform and the bag stayed on the seat for almost a mile of crappy side roads and only fell off when blasting off on ramp to highway. :D

 
I left my CamelBak on the back of my bike, draped over a saddle bag as I left a hotel in Moab. Realized at the stop sign what I did. Another MC couple in the parking lot had already retrieved it and were waiting for me to come back. Nice.

Same trip, a couple days later, I was leaving a gas stop with SkooterG and Beemerdons, outside of Yellowstone. Put my Camelbak in probably the same place, and rode off without it again. A douchebag in a truck behind us ran over it. Beemerdons said it was on purpose, but maybe just HUA syndrome affecting the truck driver. Regardless, it was my fault for doing that a second time.

After that, it always sits on my seat or hangs from the bars, so it is impossible to miss. I've created a more comprehensive checklist, and it hasn't happened since. I'm one of those, that if I don't do exactly the same thing every time, I miss something.

 
My best little story of junk left laying on the bike is this: A group of us went to visit a riding friend with a terminal disease. It was pretty emotional. As we put on our riding gear to head out, I set my phone on my buddies rear luggage rack. We head out and ride a bit over a hundred miles through some great twisties, and then stop for gas. While fueling up, I realize I forgot to pick up my phone. Go over to my buddies bike.......not expecting to see the phone of course, and it has slipped off and into the saddlebag area where it attached to the bike. Somehow it managed to stay put. I thanked my lucky stars and learned a lesson that day!

 
I used to live and work in St. Louis and learned to never stop in East St Louis for fuel after one singular fuel stop there.

 
This thread is full of win!!
Bullshit!! This thread is full of old, forgetful losers. Losers of bags, losers of wallets, losers of phones.
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Just another example of what lonely, overweight, balding losers we are.

I do have to agree with The Zilla tho- when riding I never, ever do anything out of the routine. NOTHING gets "set down for a moment" in any other place than where it belongs. NOTHING gets set in its place without being immediately secured in that place. NOTHING gets done out of order. Check, recheck, triple check. My riding buds give me joyful crap now and then but I'm the only one who hasn't had to go back to retrieve something.

 
This thread is full of win!!
Bullshit!! This thread is full of old, forgetful losers. Losers of bags, losers of wallets, losers of phones.
smile.png
Just another example of what lonely, overweight, balding losers we are.

Disagree, I'm not old (I think) nor am I lonely, overweight, balding or a loser.

I do have to agree with The Zilla tho- when riding I never, ever do anything out of the routine. NOTHING gets "set down for a moment" in any other place than where it belongs. NOTHING gets set in its place without being immediately secured in that place. NOTHING gets done out of order. Check, recheck, triple check. My riding buds give me joyful crap now and then but I'm the only one who hasn't had to go back to retrieve something.

Agree, I'm very methodical about my chit. I don't care if others have to wait for me. I never forget to put in my ear plugs or turn on my phone/GPS or have to go back for my wallet or all the other chit the ones who rush have to do.
 
That tank bag came off and back on beaucoup times over the 20 plus hours and over 1k miles April 1 when TOH opened. And hundreds of other times. Because I was on my game. Perpetrating. But for a quickie run, I deviated from routine. Deviating from routine is always bad luck. Whether it's cold weather gear, loose gear, or whatever.

 
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rbentnail, I learned that lesson in the Navy: Everything Shall Be In Its Specified Place When Not Actually In Use.

It got reinforced during many, many backpacking trips after my DD214 moment.

 
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