Pat Henderson's Life and Motorcycle Travels Blog: Sometimes A Flat Is Just A Flat

Perspectives

My weekend is punctuated by contrasts so vast, that my troubles and worries seem somehow silly. Punctuated by such perspectives I find that I am using these events as opportunities for personal growth. I do after all consider myself the “grasshopper” so to actually see the opportunity for growth is a new level of self awareness that leaves me feeling ever so humble.

On a pleasant ride along route 17 in Maine, our group stops at an overlook to appreciate the beauty of Mooselookmeguntic Lake. It is here, that Andy notices that his rear tire is low. We roll the bike forward and sure enough, he has ridden over yet another nail in the road. This is the third nail for this tire, and seems odd that someone should have such terrible luck. The tire is not yet flat, and with the help of one in our group, we pump the tire up to get to the next town ten miles away.

From Birthday Bash

Upon arrival, we discover that the local bike shop had closed an hour before. We make our way to an auto store where Andy buys a can of some sort of gunk in the hopes it will patch the tube a bit so we can make it back to our hotel. We decide this is as good a place for lunch as any. I don’t really feel hungry, but eat anyway. I get a stomach ache and realize that I may have fallen into my other bad habit; stress-eating. I didn’t feel worried, I thought, but the stomach ache is a sure sign that I am.

From Birthday Bash

After lunch, the group decides to head back the way we came as it is shorter than continuing on with the loop. We make it back to the overlook and pump the tire again. We begin to hi-tail it back along route 17. Route 17 is full of ruts and frost heaves, and with each bump, bump, bump in the road I am watching the tire deflate. The tire finally gives out, and we are all stopped along a narrow stretch of roadway with only soft shoulders for minimal comfort from oncoming cars and enough moose tracks to let us know we are in the middle of nowhere.

From Birthday Bash

I take out my cell phone and there is no signal here in the dip. I want to call another group member who has trailered his motorcycle here to Maine. Maybe he will come for Andy. I volunteer to go back up to the overlook for a signal and insist that I will be fine alone. I start back, and am going at a good clip. Then I see another rider following behind. I’m miffed at first thinking that Andy doesn’t trust me to be safe. In that instant, I hit one of those ruts hard and it sends me to the wrong side of the road. I swing way out, slow and pull myself back over the yellow line. Now did I say I wasn’t really stressed? I realize yet again, that I am not holding my mind correctly. There is no need for speed. The tire will still be as flat in 10 minutes as it is now.

We reach a spot where I have a signal, and I call one in the group which is a number I have in my contacts. I’m given instructions to sit tight and he will contact the trailer owner and call me back. While waiting, I take the opportunity, to send a text message to two of my friends. It reads “Andy’s tire found a nail. Fun times!” I get a reply message from one, reading “my father died last night.”

The flat tire seems so silly when measured up against a man’s life. My misplaced worry about the ride being spoiled for others, or what options are available to us for repair seems trite. While I wait for the call, I exchange a few more text messages with the friend in hopes that it will be of some comfort. The call comes; the trailer is on the way. That was easy, and of so little trouble to me. It could have been so much worse. The tire could have blown and Andy could have lost control. A car could have been coming in the opposite direction when I traveled over the line, and then the rider behind me would have paid the price having to witness such a thing.

The trailer arrives, and I ride with two who came to the rescue. Andy is following on my bike. I tell them both about the text from my friend, and how a flat tire seems so small in comparison. It is the death of the friend’s father, due to heart surgery, that triggers the response from one. He lost his son in early spring, and the boy’s heart was donated to save the life of another. His story goes on to say how he and his wife had lunch with the recipient, and what it meant to all of them. My worry now about finding a place for repair on a weekend seems even more inconsequential than ever.

From Birthday Bash

That evening, not realizing what I’m doing, I stress-eat again. I spend most of the evening in the room instead of socializing because of the stomach pain I am once again enduring. It was all for nothing too. In the morning, we found a great guy to pick up the bike and put on a new tire and tube. The lesson here is evident. Every problem has a solution. Every question has an answer. Most of our troubles are small. It is only our thinking or how we hold our minds that make them big.