Battle Creek — the Final Destination


I had a great trip planned to go around the Great Lakes. It started out great, and I had a good time with my friend Shelley, but then things started to go down hill. I was determined to do this trip, though, because I’d put so much work into my bike for something stupid to make me quit. I was also pretty certain thatif I had any issues I could take care of them on the road, since I’ve seen so many problems on the road already anyways.

Time to Work

As it was the end of the month, I definitely needed to do some work and finish things up for the night. After driving all over Battle Creek, I finally found a coffee shop with WiFi –surprisingly enough they were either closed or inside some other store. Google Maps could use an indicator for that.

I put in a few hours and then it was time to move again, since the coffee shop was closing. I went outside and got out my warm weather clothes. I put on layer upon layer, preparing myself for a good 2 hours or so on the road, and it wasn’t exactly warm outside at this point.

The Strangest Stranger

Every time I had stopped, whether with Shelley or by myself, people approached me. Probably the reflective bright yellow vest on the back. It’s a people magnet. Usually it’s older men approaching me, to say how they’d want to do what I’m doing, or what their kid did, or something else related to those themes.

Nope, this guy was way out there. He approached in his silver Corvette, and started talking to me about what a stupid idea my trip was because my Kawasaki was too small. I told him that it was fine, and a Honda, though the bikes are often mistaken for each other. It was 11pm and I wasn’t interested in a conversation, so I try and wrap things up. He then asked what “kind of heat” I was packing. I turned it around, asking what his interest was in what I could have in my bags. It’s not his business, and it was a pretty weird thing to say. I told him I could handle myself, thanks, and he asked if I needed anything, insinuating he could get me a firearm. I reaffirmed that I was fine and started strapping things down further on the bike, and wasn’t paying as much attention to him. There was a little more, but he finally left.

Starting the Bike

Finally, I had all of the layers on and was ready to head out. I started it up and the ticking was really loud. I held the idle a little higher and hoped that it would work out. Then my fears came true.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

I google Honda Rebel left side oil leak to see if there’s much information about it. There turns out to be a ton of people who have experienced it, also, so at least I’m not alone. It appears that there’s not a whole lot I can do. And it’s likely the crankshaft oil seal.

After chatting with Shelley about what to do, she says she’ll pick me up in the morning and trailer the bike home. The closest hotel is a half mile away, and it’s not inexpensive. But I know pushing the bike for a full mile, uphill, on a busy street is probably a very bad idea. So I push it there, and get ready to stay the night.

There’s No Rooms Available?

I get into the lobby, and ask to rent a room. The teller says that there’s no rooms available. I say, verbatim, “You can’t tell me that. I just pushed my motorcycle here. I can’t go anywhere else.” Some how he was able to find a room, two queen beds. Then he wanted to chat. It was just after 12am when I got checked in. I was tired. Not going to happen.

Finally: Getting it home, and seeing about fixing the issue.

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