The Plan

When one's intent is to attend the MotoGP motorcycle races in Indianapolis, and one lives in St. Louis, and one has two of the best and fastest production motorcycles ever produced by human kind sitting in one's garage, one would normally travel to said races on said motorcycles. And that was, indeed, the plan.

But the battery on Deb's ZX-14 expired. Not a big deal to fix but as she was assembling all of the cowling that had to be disassembled to reach the battery, the back end of a fastener known as a "well nut" failed, the nut part fell down in the airbox, and all progress toward getting the bike back on the road came to a screeching halt. Getting the broken part out of the airbox was not much of a challenge, but finding replacement well nuts has turned into a nightmare. It seems 5mm well nuts are found in every parts department in and around the city, since they are routinely used when mounting sport bike windshields. Ah, but 6mm well nuts? None, nadda, don't know, can't fine 'em, never seen such a thing, are you sure that's the right part number?

An alternate plan went into effect. If need be Deb will take the Z car to meet me Friday night. I was leaving Friday morning on the GXSR-1000 to catch the first practice session...was...

On the way to the hangar this morning the GXSR felt a little odd, something weird about the front end. But it was so subtle I could almost convince myself all was well, maybe a pound or two down on tire pressure or the groves in the road surface playing with the lightly worn tread. The exit to the airport is one I usually take pretty fast as it is a lovely, sweeping, uphill left arc of perfect radius that, when taken somewhere around a tonne, has the same elegance as climbing up out of an overcast with a wing down, nearly magic. But one of Cherstfield's finest was lurking under the preceding overpass. I spotted him before he spotted me and so putted past at a perfectly legal 60 mph, sitting up straight, left hand on my hip, the picture of social responsibility. But he did ruin my exit.

Hours spent wrestling with nav data updates (and making endless phone calls trying to find 6mm well nuts) passed and I headed home. Everything felt fine until the hard right turn just a few blocks from my front door. Its a normal in-city turn but it was also a picture-perfect riding day, and yours truly might, just might mind you, have held off the brakes until the last moment to pitch ye old scooter hard into the apex...

...the brakes grabbed then chattered madly, the front end tucked and howled and shuttered, the brake lever went dead in my hand, and the bike shook its head in the classic start of a "tank slapper." It was an exciting few moments though I managed to gather it together and stay on two wheels. (Truth to tell it was a pretty low speed corner, I was in full riding gear including helmet, gloves, armored jacked and boots, and even if I had been launched it would have taken some really bad luck to get seriously hurt.)

It turns out the GSXR is broke much worse than Deb's bike. A front wheel bearing had utterly failed. When I pulled the axle bits of shattered race, mangled spacers, and flattened ball bearings spilled out onto the shop floor. Ugly. It looks like we'll both be riding the Z to Indy this weekend.

And I don't feel too bad about that. I will try to get the bikes repaired tomorrow and salvage "the plan," but the damage to the GSXR's front wheel may make that impossible. I'm not normally big on "what-ifs," (a life time of being a pilot will break you of that habit) but it must be admitted that the bearing certainly could have failed at a much less opportune moment; on the overpass at speed, in heavy traffic, halfway to Indy. Instead it expired just blocks from home.

Sailing, flying, motorcycle riding...stuff happens. When it does we change the plan.

p.s. We are in Indy...with the Z.