Joined
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252 Posts
I decided today was my day to ride. Weather was perfect, bike was running great. I was going to put some miles on so I packed up and headed north. There are two bridges that go into washington from Portland and both are freeways. The Glen Jackson bridge on I205 seems to be the lesser of two evils so I took that. About half way across, I realize that the bike is losing power. I knew I was running low, but not that low. No biggie, I'm thinking I'll just switch to reserve. I go to flip the switch and Damn ! I'm already in reserve !
I was parked about half way across the bridge, which, if you've never been over the Columbia river, this particular bridge is about a mile and a half. I decided to head north, on foot to see if I could find a gas station. I was fortunate enough to get picked up by a guy who saw my bike stuck and gave me a lift to the nearest gas station which was about a mile or two up the road. I bought my ridiculously overpriced gas can and $2 in gas and headed the two miles back to the bike. The freeway was OK, but once I got to the bridge I had oncoming traffic about three feet to the right and a very long drop about three feet to the left.
Finally got to the bike and filled up the tank. She started for a second, but ran really rough. I was able to put her in gear and drive for about a hundred yards. Another ten minutes of tinkering and moved another 100 yards. About this time I was getting pretty frustrated. The coast guard started hovering below in the water just in case I decided to jump.
I ended up pushing her the remaining distance of the bridge and parked her safely in the grass at the first off ramp, swallowed my pride and called a buddy. I told him to bring fuel line so I could bypass the fuel filter. After calling for reinforcements I remembered that there is a screen on the bottom of the tank that sometimes gets clogged. I went back to the bike and started shaking it side to side to try and stir up whatever crap was in there. Sure enough, she fired up, ran rough for a little, but eventually got me to a gas station for a proper fill up.
After all this, my nerves were too shot to do anything but go home and drink beer (afraid of heights). Can't blame the bike on this one, this was my own damn fault
I was parked about half way across the bridge, which, if you've never been over the Columbia river, this particular bridge is about a mile and a half. I decided to head north, on foot to see if I could find a gas station. I was fortunate enough to get picked up by a guy who saw my bike stuck and gave me a lift to the nearest gas station which was about a mile or two up the road. I bought my ridiculously overpriced gas can and $2 in gas and headed the two miles back to the bike. The freeway was OK, but once I got to the bridge I had oncoming traffic about three feet to the right and a very long drop about three feet to the left.
Finally got to the bike and filled up the tank. She started for a second, but ran really rough. I was able to put her in gear and drive for about a hundred yards. Another ten minutes of tinkering and moved another 100 yards. About this time I was getting pretty frustrated. The coast guard started hovering below in the water just in case I decided to jump.
I ended up pushing her the remaining distance of the bridge and parked her safely in the grass at the first off ramp, swallowed my pride and called a buddy. I told him to bring fuel line so I could bypass the fuel filter. After calling for reinforcements I remembered that there is a screen on the bottom of the tank that sometimes gets clogged. I went back to the bike and started shaking it side to side to try and stir up whatever crap was in there. Sure enough, she fired up, ran rough for a little, but eventually got me to a gas station for a proper fill up.
After all this, my nerves were too shot to do anything but go home and drink beer (afraid of heights). Can't blame the bike on this one, this was my own damn fault
