Small town, big heart
Small towns in America are still alive and well.
Wow… cross country motorcycle riding… there’s nothing like it. You become one with the machine. It’s a very meditative experience… not trance like… but reflective and calming. Anyway, in late June 2013, I rode from Mexico to the Canadian border. Most of it was on US Highway 93. It’s a north-south two-lane highway with some really cool small towns and beautiful scenery. In addition to my US 93 northern transit, I had to ride hundreds of miles to Mexicali just to start my Mexico to Canada trek, then aboot 1500 miles from the Roosville, Montana border crossing back to the Bay Area.
On the return leg of my journey, I was making good time southbound on US Highway 395. I had planned to stop for gas at the junction of US 395 and Oregon Route 31, but… oops… the gas station was closed. I pressed on to Lakeview, Oregon.
I rolled into a Shell station on fumes at the north end of town. Oregon law required that a station attendant pump your gas, but the kid working at the station agreed to let me pump my own after I told him that I needed to check my oil. I straightened my bike and checked the oil level… OK. Then my eyes bulged out like an amazed cartoon character when I looked at my rear tire. Ouch! The summer heat and coarse macadam on Highways 93 and 395 had worn my rear tire smooth and in some places down to the tire belt.
It was shortly after 5 pm on a Friday and the Les Schwab tire shop next to the gas station was closed, but I could see the manager inside at the front counter. I got the manager’s attention, he let me in, and I described my dilemma. He said his shop was not insured to repair or install motorcycle tires, however, there was a 4X4 store in town that could replace my tire if they had one in stock. I gingerly and slowly nudged my bike toward downtown. The 4X4 shop was closed and locked. Ouch, again.
As I started to circle back to my hotel, I noticed a BMW 1100 parked in front of the Pizza Villa Restaurant. A guy about my age was loading pizzas onto a motor scooter parked next to the BMW. I stopped and asked him if he knew the owner of the Beemer because I needed a new tire and I was wondering if the BMW owner could help me find one. He introduced himself as “Dan” and added that he owned the BMW. He looked at my back tire and agreed that I seriously needed a new tire. Dan told me that he gets his tires in Klamath Falls… 100 miles away. I said thanks and rode away.
The next morning, the 4X4 shop opened. The manager said they install motorcycle tires but he did not have a rear tire in stock that would fit my bike. He would have to order a tire from Klamath Falls and it would take two days before the tire could be delivered. Things were not looking good.
I walked out of the shop and around the corner. I saw Dan outside the Pizza Villa, and I shared the news with him about ordering a new tire. He said he had an idea. Dan told me that he also owned a Jeep and a small trailer that could transport my motorcycle over to Klamath Falls. I thanked him for the offer and added I would ride back to my hotel and call AAA for help. I called and got more bad news. While my policy would pay for towing if I were in California, I would have to pay out of pocket for a tow to the nearest motorcycle repair shop in Klamath Falls. AAA offered to revise my policy, but the change would not become effective until two days had lapsed. Things were starting to look worse.
I returned to Pizza Villa and found Dan. With hat in hand, I accepted his offer of help. I needed the use of his Jeep and trailer. Dan said to meet him back at the restaurant in an hour.
I was early and waiting when Dan drove up in his Jeep with a small flat trailer behind it. We loaded the bike. Dan apologized for not filling the Jeep’s gas tank. What?! He’s rescuing me and apologizing? No way. I told Dan that I would take care of the gas. Dan handed me the keys. He explained he could not accompany me but he was happy to offer me the use of his Jeep and trailer.
I called the motorcycle shop in Klamath Falls and told them I would be in around noon to get a new rear tire. The drive to Klamath Falls was uneventful and the bike shop had a new tire installed in about 45 minutes. Now, it was time to drive back to Lakeview. I would not get back until late afternoon which meant another night’s stay in Lakeview. Thanks to Dan… I was beginning to like this small town.
I topped off the Jeep when I got back to Lakeview and delivered the Jeep and trailer to Dan at the Pizza Villa. I paid for a Coke and small pizza, then placed an extra $100 on the counter. Dan shook his head and said he could not accept the money. I told him that I was going to leave it on the counter and if he did not take it then someone else would. He smiled, thanked me, and pocketed the cash.
Dan saved my trip, and he did something not too many people would have done. After only knowing me for about 20 minutes, Dan offered me his Jeep and trailer… no questions asked. Who does such a thing? The answer is guys and gals from smalltown America. The next day, as I was driving south out of town, I noticed Lakeview’s civic sign. It listed a couple of service clubs and sixteen churches. That’s sixteen churches in a town with about 2,300 people. Maybe there is a connection between all those churches and good Samaritans like Dan in Lakeview.
Copyright © 2023 by Ray Fowler
