Third "OOPS!"

Yes, this is a huge one. And not one I can laugh off. I don't even want to blog about it but, in the interest of continuing accurately chronicling this trip, here it goes.


We've been riding along nice and easy for days now, and we have not encountered any major problems. In deference to Azoica's limited driving experience and the capabilities of my little itty, bitty, teenie, weenie V-Star 250, we've been averaging 230 miles per day, 50 miles between each stop.


We've successfully tackled deserts, hills, mountains, wind, snow, hail, rain, dust, even the occasional tumbleweed. We've handled all this through 2,000 miles with no major incidents and I was starting to feel pretty cocky.


About 20 miles before we got to Flagstaff, AZ, my cockiness came back to haunt me. Big time. I had just hit 8,000 miles on my bike and was going to bring it for scheduled maintenance in Flagstaff. Just 20 more miles. That's it. Such a small distance, such a huge difference.


Before we began the trip, and through it, we've faithfully been checking the van's vital fluids and keeping a close eye on both bikes' brake fluid, my bike chain, and Dennis' bike belt. We also made sure we stopped every 50 miles or so for both our sakes' and the vehicles'.


Genius that I am, I forgot one minuscule yet EVER so crucial detail. I did not check, not once, the OIL in my motorcycle. Not that there was any to check. Not any more. My recently acquired, recently christened motorcycle met and untimely death Wednesday, on westbound I-40, mile marker 211, just shy of the Winona exit. A sudden high-pitched whine and I have thoroughly and utterly destroyed the engine on my "Roadrunner."


I called AAA and left Dennis with it to have it towed to the Flagstaff Yamaha shop while I continued in the minivan with the kids so that we could get to the Grand Canyon early enough to set up camp before dark. Plus, we had no campground reservations so, the sooner we got there, the better.


We were able to get a campsite, set up, then go to the market to pick up foodstuffs. Meanwhile, Dennis had to endure the incredulous oh-my-gosh-they-are-crazy looks because of my taking a tiny bike on such an ambitious trip. Personally, I don't see what the big deal is. If I had been more careful, it would still be running. At least until we started up some real mountains....