Day three of our motorcycle trip... We're passing through an iddy-biddy town in the mountains and my husband's clutch cable snaps. It's about noon and the temperature is in the high 90s. It's Sunday, so nothing except the 1865 Bar & Grill is open.
Husband stays with bikes while I go to the bar to ask if by any chance they know of somebody in the area who might be able to fix the bike today. They make some phone calls... Eventually a man staggers into the bar, looking bleary-eyed around the room. Turns out, he might know somebody named Kevin who could work on the bike. But he can't remember Kevin's last name and doesn't know where he lives. He's already drunk or I'd buy him a beer... So I borrow the phone book and return to the bikes.
Making phone calls to the nearest big town, eventually we finally find a live body in a cycle repair shop. Tow truck and extra pay for the mechanic to come on Sunday. But what price getting out of the blistering sun?
By six pm, the bike was fixed (sort of) but then wouldn't start because maybe the mechanic disconnected something or didn't connect something correctly. We're a two-hour ride from our motel reservation and the bike still isn't running.
Mechanic helps us find a motel that has a room available and here we are. We just ate at a Mexican restaurant, which was terrible. Must have been feeling very sorry for myself, because I at the whole basket of chips, every one of them. AND, I didn't order very wisely either. And everything was so salty, that I'll retain water for three days. Is that good in 100 degree temps? I don't know.
Anyhow, I am going to return to our AC room and have fun getting some sleep...
Tomorrow will be what it will be... either they'll get the bike fixed and we'll move along, broke but on the road again... or they won't. Either way, I promise, no more chips!