Post your best "breakdown" stories

[SmithSwede]

I'd like to hear how our tech-savvy and resourceful Guzzi riders have dealt with mechanical breakdowns, flat tires, and other roadway calamities. 

What's your best "breakdown" story?  And how did you MacGyver you way out of it?  Or what tow service did you flag down?

[Guzzistajohn]

Well, the 1st one that comes to mind is last Labor Day on the way back from the Springfield Mile with Biking sailor (Darren) and Lowriter (john L) I lost the dipstick off the LMIII.

Darren and I whittled a plug from a nearby pine branch and shoved that sucker in the hole and away we went.

My left riding boot is still darker than the right <shrug> oh well

[TobyJug]

Back in the late '70's I was riding my Bonnie back from a friends house with my wife on the back when the fuse blew.  So the bike died - but I knew right away what the problem was.  I knew that there was some exposed wiring under the rear mudguard (I'm English - a Fender is a guitar to me) and I'd just ridden through a puddle so that's what it would be.  And it was.  So, although it was a bit of a bummer, having the fuse blow, at least I could be a bit smug about how fast I fixed the problem.  I put in the spare fuse that I had and started the bike.  When I turned the lights on (remember when we actually had a switch to turn the lights on?) it blew again.  I only had the 1 spare fuse so now I had to resort to the silver paper out of a fag (cigarette) packet.  But now I couldn't get the bike to start again.  After quite a few attempts we started to push it home - about a 5 mile push.  After about 1.5 miles I happened to look at the kill switch - and it was OFF.  Once corrected (and the wires had dried out by now) it started and we rode home - rather sweaty.  I've never used a kill switch since.

[oldbike54]

 You don't have the time to read all of my breakdown stories Prescott 

  Dusty

[SmithSwede]

Dusty.

Yes.  I'm busy.  Limited time. But enlighten me with your ingenious solutions!

[ohiorider]

Not a breakdown solution, but one where I really needed some assistance.  And I received it, from several sources.  Here's a copy and paste from my 2005 journal of my ride from Cleveland Ohio to Utah.
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Day Two – Tuesday, June 21st, 2005

I kicked off the day with a Continental breakfast at the TravelLodge in Hannibal.  The odometer now read 90,333.  I’d pushed the BMW 663 miles the first day out.

At 7:30am, I turned left onto the entrance ramp of US Highway 36 West, and spent the better part of the day and 500 miles on this old road, crossing all of Missouri, from Hannibal through St. Joseph, to Norton, Kansas.  From there, I ran  south on Route 383 toward Route 83 and US 24.

When I turned right onto US 24 West, I was within 9 miles of my destination, Colby, Kansas.  Bluebird skies had turned black in a matter of minutes.  Three to four miles from Colby, the rain came down so hard I couldn’t see the road in front of me … and I was sure no one could see me, either.  It was time to get off the road and find a dry spot. 

I spotted a small two-story building with a freight dock and two large doors facing the road.  I rode the bike blindly toward the building, hoping I could use it as shelter from the pouring rain.  No sooner had the front tire touched the concrete apron in front of the doors, than the rear tire began losing traction.  Mud, mud, mud, more like wet gray cement than mud.  Hmmm, obviously I’m not riding on hard-packed gravel.  I gassed the GS, back tire spinning, onto the concrete apron.  Once the rain quit, I found out the building and unpaved lot were under construction.

Now, there was a problem in the making.  After 10-15 minutes of really hard rain, the unfinished parking lot had morphed into a swamp.  And I had to ride through it to get back on the highway.  It was going to be slick and I was worried about being able to reach the highway.

I don’t have any dirt riding experience, so I faked it, aiming the GS straight into the muck, while standing on the foot pegs in good dirt bike style.  I managed to recover from the initial slide to the right, but couldn’t control the subsequent skid to the left.   Down we went, the fully-loaded GS and me, into the mud.  Now this was an unnerving situation, me, with my fully-loaded bike, lying on its side in the mud, many hundred miles from home!

I struggled to lift the bike back up onto her wheels.  On my first attempt, I tried to follow the advice I’d read in the bike magazines, which meant putting my back against the bike and lifting primarily with my legs.  I had nearly gotten her upright when my feet slipped from under me, and I sat down hard, butt-first into the mud, with the GS close behind.  On my second attempt, I’d almost righted the bike, when the tires simply slid away from me as I lifted, and down she went again.

Grace a Gawd … a young local named Jake stopped and gave me a hand, and not a moment too soon, as by this time I was totally exhausted from my efforts to right the bike.  I felt  like a midget next to this guy.   He easily lifted the GS back onto her wheels, and we both pushed her to the highway.    Before parting company, he recommended the Budget Inn in nearby Colby.  Good advice, indeed!

I removed my mud-covered boots before entering the motel’s office, and as I squished across the floor in waterlogged socks, the young woman working the desk looked up and asked where I’d gotten so wet.  I told her I’d gotten soaked a few miles east of the motel, which she thought very strange since they hadn’t  seen rain for months.  The rain gauge outside the door contained nothing but dust.

Since there was no nearby Laundromat, this sweet gal volunteered to wash my clothes for me.  She returned them dried and folded.  I guess one must travel to Mid-America to find this basic friendliness.

Shortly thereafter, her husband knocked on my door, and offered to let me use his power washer to blast the cement-like mud off the bike.  This stuff had already started to harden, and had I waited until the next morning to clean the GS, I honestly believe it would have required a chisel and hammer. 

Now I’m back in my motel room, cleaning gloves and boots under running water.  I couldn’t have gotten muddier if I’d dug a ditch.  And the bathtub is a mess!  I clean it up before showering.

I walked across the hotel parking lot to the Chinese Restaurant next door.  Good food, and cute little waitresses, undoubtedly the owner’s daughters.  Then back to the motel.  Wish  I could’ve slept better, at least quicker.

By the end of the day, the kind people of Colby, Kansas once again had me feeling that my trip was worth it, and feeling especially good about them.  These folks really went out of their way to help a stranger.

Note from early in Day Number Two:  In a small town in Missouri, somewhere along US 36, I stopped at a BP Convenience Store for gas, and asked the sales clerk if they had paper funnels so I could add oil to the poorly-located oil filler on the ‘German motorcycle’.  “German motorcycle?  Oh, you mean BMW …. Bavarian Motor Works”.   I asked her if she rode bikes. “No, but a boyfriend of my daughter’s does.  He  lives in London, England, and rides everywhere.  When I told my friends he rode a BMW, they all said ‘Oh, British Motor Works’.  That didn’t make any sense, so I looked it up on the web, and found that BMW stood for Bavarian Motor Works!”. 

Would you believe it?
 

[oldbike54]

Dusty.

Yes.  I'm busy.  Limited time. But enlighten me with your ingenious solutions!

 There was the time I nursed a 650 Bonneville Triumph home on one cylinder by effectively turning it into a 325 CC single . Shook like a paint shaker and pretty much destroyed the engine , beat going AWOL  Oh . there was also the time a 6CA dual point setup on a single carb 500 Triumph sort of self destructed , borrowed a single point system for a twin cylinder Wisconsin
(If memory is correct) tractor motor , and after much filing and some choice expletives , got the Triumph running well enough for a 100 mile ride , once again to keep from going AWOL  Hmm , a pattern may be developing here 

  Dusty

[SmithSwede]

Dusty. 

Yep.  That's good. But I feel this is but the tip of an iceberg.   

Keep 'splaining

[oldbike54]

Dusty. 

Yep.  That's good. But I feel this is but the tip of an iceberg.   

Keep 'splaining

 The tip of the tip  Let's see , adapted a rear wheel from a Honda to fit a T140 V Bonnie after the wheel self destructed . Now , the T140 wheel had a disc , and the Honda wheel was a drum , not to mention the Triumph sprocket was 48 tooth , and the Honda was 36 . To add to the complications , the wife and I were 500 miles from home , and not lots of extra money was available . So , the nice farmer who was providing tools and shop space allowed me to scrounge around . Heated up an old tire tool and bent it to serve as a brake pedal , drilled a hole in the flat part at the rear and mounted the Honda rear brake cable using a clevis pin . Left the socket on the other end , and the farmer cleaned and painted the tire tool cum brake pedal . Welded up the mounting holes on the Tri sprocket , and drilled new holes to match the Honda hub , pulled the 25 year old rear tire and tube from the Japanese bike , mounted up the almost new Avon from the T140 wheel , drank a celebratory beer with the nice West Texas farmer and his wife , slept about 8 hours in the spare bedroom so graciously offered by Mrs Farmer , coffeed up the next morning , ate some wonderful peanut butter pancakes , and pointed the bike , wife aboard , towards Nacogdoches .

 Whew , need to rest now 

 Dusty

[Sasquatch Jim]

  Going down a big hill just before heading into Bremerton from the south when I heard a loud bang and the engine sound changed a lot.  I pulled the clutch and looked down at my oil drenched boot.  I saw that my engine had developed a bad oil leak about four inches wide and six inches high in the front of the case.  I could see the crankshaft spinning.  I hit the kill switch  and coasted to the side.
 My counter balancer shaft was gone along with the front of the engine cases.  I was pretty sure this would not be a road side repair day.

[wymple]

Had a simple flat tire. Went up to a house to see if I could borrow their phone to call my brother (decades ago). Guy said sure, come on in. He and his wife were about half dressed and the entire floor was covered like carpeting in porn magazines, Playboy, Hustler, etc. I waded thru them to use the phone.

[LowRyter]

Well, the 1st one that comes to mind is last Labor Day on the way back from the Springfield Mile with Biking sailor (Darren) and Lowriter (john L) I lost the dipstick off the LMIII.

Darren and I whittled a plug from a nearby pine branch and shoved that sucker in the hole and away we went.

My left riding boot is still darker than the right <shrug> oh well

Darren and I were riding back from the Okie Campout.  We stopped for breakfast in Stigler OK after doing some spirited riding in the mountains there and my rear tire was chunked, several areas down to the cord, and the cord was even melted.  Limped up 20 miles to the interstate, Darren's son picked us up in Darren's truck and trailer.

Johnny, there's common denominator here.

Yeah, Darren.  Darren as in saving my ass really.

[Antietam Classic Cycle]

One time my '69 Ambassadors points closed up and I had to gap them in a restaurant parking lot.    Another time, one of the 40 year old wires connecting to the generator was only holding on by one strand. Charged at idle, but didn't when revved. Still made it 70 miles with the lights on (it was dark) running on just the battery and still had enough juice to start the bike twice. That's the worst I've had to deal with in the entire 18 years and 70k miles I've ridden that old beast...

[cruzziguzzi]

We had 2 KLR 250s per Team when I was in the Army and of course, just as everyone had boxed "Golden Gloves", everyone had raced motocross. I always kept firm control of my personal bike but the other was kind of a floater for whomever was more inclined to sit on it for days or even weeks at a time.

One of the last fellas to ride the bike before I retired was about a half-a-squid... maybe more.

He bought a CBR900RR back when they came out and as far as I know, dropped it twice at least - Sergeant Major knew of more. Now, this is no shit; the first time was leaving the parking lot from which he bought it and the other was in the parking lot when he went to trade it in as ordered by our Company Sergeant Major: "Get 4 wheel transport or get a new job!"

Our man drops 'er right in front of the dealer and I had to go pick him up to get parking lot pulled from his carcass.

Anyhow, to point. Snuffy gets on the KLR after telling me all about his exploits as a moto-cross rider and commences to kill the bike 3-4 times in a row. Now it's off the bike and proper training before anything can be wrecked.

Fast forward and a little fella - Bill - whom I completely trust is on the other bike while we're doin' things in ways overseas. Barnacle Bill is doing fine until one night when he misreads some terrain and takes a particularly bad tumble. I looked the bike over and it was generally OK so Bill goes to a 4-wheeler and on climbs Mr Fireblade by default.

I tell him to stay EXACTLY behind me and if I ever fall out of sight he's to full-stop and call me up. Maybe I had taken a tumble, maybe he had fallen behind... whatever, I don't want him zippin' about with night vision on... hell, I don't want him zippin' about in full sunshine!

So, there I am, putt-puttin' and when I stop to check the map... no racer-Rick!

I listen
I radio
I look our exhausts, even when wrapped were not too hard to see with night vision if angled from the front.
and finally, I walk back along my tracks for a bit but eventually return for the bike and go back after him.

I make it to within meters of the last time I looked back for him and see his tracks have clearly veered off to the right so I go following those. Eventually, I find him kicking away in the dark with horrible sounding noises coming from the engine when he gets it going - only to die immediately.

We, where we are and what's going on, don't have a lot of time to mess with this and I'm thinking of the unpleasant ride with us 2-up on this with guns&gear. So then, in asking him what happened at the end of it running well, he says he was racing to catch up with me (never mind that he had veered so far south as to not be able to see me) and had forgotten to shift... Really!?! Forgot to shift!

In any case, weighing cacheing the bike and 2-upin' against a quick looksee, I figure I have maybe 3-4 hours to twilight so I pull out the excellent tool kits we had and get into the top-end right away.

Sure as baby rabbits, he had over revved it and beat the bejeepers outa a couple three valve adjusting set ups but one in particular was demoed completely. I took the screw and nut totally out of the rocker and checked to see if the valve closed completely. I have a sense that I had to do some further swapping to find which way it would start being down a valve but don't really recall. I do remember looking at it months later back in the States and marveling that it started on a kick starter let alone run at all.

Now I was wondering if I could start a 3 valve KLR250.

And start it did. Clacked like a diesel but it started.

Now, could it be ridden - loaded?

It could but it took some care. Unfortunately, I had to ride the lamed KLR and let Rick flog mine but threats were passed and a sample was forwarded and we ended up at our desired location before sun-up all sad and limpy but with two bikes.

Flat loved those KLRs. Heavy, slow, kinda "tired" from new, certainly squishy but otherwise outstanding, reliable and long legged machines.

We made passes at Armstrongs, Cagivas and even 650s, as well as an ill thought out diesel but it was the 250s that performed like Army Mules.

Todd.

[dubtac]

I got a flat on the rear on my Breva, about 30 miles from my house. I opened up the tool kit it had a 17 mm for the rear lug bolts and a flat head screwdriver doo hickey thing. Broke the nuts loose like a car, put the bike on the center stand which was a completely new concept to me and motorcycles. I never knew why they put those stands on there now I do .
Used the flathead doo hickey thing to force the brake pistons in so the brakes would let go.Guy seen what I was doing I never forgot him, old country bumpkin driving a Nissan Altima. Used his car scissor jack ever so carefully on the tire to break the bead. His tool kit had a lug wrench with scoop on the end used that to pry the tire off.
By that time I already called my buddy to get me a tire from the shop. 180 dollars all they had was a pirelli corsa tire. My buddy pulled up shocked that I had already had the tire dismounted he brought a trailer to bring it all home. Used some Aero Kroil to lube the bead an used HVAC Flex duct straps to crimp the tire so it would go back on without prying. Used the nitrogen in the work van to set the bead and aired it up with it.
A valuable lesson was learned, call state farm before attempting anything roadside assistance is included with your insurance

[alanp]

Not a breakdown story (I am one lucky guy to not have had any of note), but this is a sort of personal breakdown story.

Way back, when I was a true noob motorcycle rider and also new to Colorado (having recently moved from Florida!).  It was a beautiful October day, and I decided to take the Honda CB360 on a ride through the mountains. It was probably in the 70's and clear when I left Denver.  I was heading up through the North Park area (Winter Park, for you skiers, and not to be confused with South Park) when the sky started to darken.  I headed up the back side of Berthoud Pass and it started to rain, then snow.  I was dressed for Denver (or Florida) with jeans and a light jacket.  I have never been so cold!  As I came down the other side of the pass the snow picked up and I was pretty scared.  There is a small town at the bottom of the pass, Empire, and a little restaurant called Jenny's which I think is still there.  I pulled in, looking to get warmed up.  I stopped the bike, put my leg down, and down went the bike and me.  My legs were so cold I had no strength to hold the bike up.  I could hardly stand.  I don't remember much after that, except that some nice folks helped me get the bike upright and warmed me up with hot coffee.  I managed to ride home somehow, so I assume the snow stopped, but I really don't recall much after I fell.  It was an educational experience, and I am much wiser for it today. 

[Rox]

My best breakdown story was in 2008 going to Vintage Motorcycle Days in Lexington, OH on my Triumph Thruxton. Couldn't get the bike started so I arrived to the Triumph Expo with my bike on the flatbed of a truck. More embarrassing for Triumph than me...

[rtbickel]

shortly after I bought my 02 Special Sport, the temp sensor went out in Mogollon, NM (pop. 3) and the bike would only run on 1 cylinder unless I hit the kill switch to reset the ECU.  Rode it all the way back to Dallas thumbing the kill switch every 30 seconds.  Burned one of the headers totally blue but it got replaced under warranty along with the temp sensor and has been running fine ever since, although it doesnt get much road time since I bought the 1400.

[Chuck in Indiana]

Excerpt from journal.. all the misadventures were my fault, of course. I'd bought a beater 1000SP to take out to California. It was rough, but I thought it would make it ok. Put a rear main seal in it and a proper breather box and blasted off..
7-11-05
I have these days somewhere.. maybe still on alan’s computer, so typing this in from memory.
Right rear turn signal broke off at the Iowa rally.
While riding twistys in the Badlands, the sidestand spring ate through
the bracket, disappeared, and the sidestand fell down.. Yikes!
Coming out of the badlands, one of the coils took a dump.Pulled a plug
and putt putted to a rest area to call AAA. No cell service. Had them
tow me to the Sturgis BMW dealer where I was told, "we don't work on
Guzzis." Told them I thought the R100 coils were the same. Didn't have
any. Called MG, had a pair overnighted. Met a really kool guy with 15 or
so Brit bikes, putt putted to his house, grafted a brit coil and
automotive wire on the SP. Cobbled a hardware store spring on the sidestand.
Back in business.
Headed for Wyoming, the tach cable broke.
Started running on one cylinger again. WTF?? Found the points for the
left cylinder almost worn out. My Bad.. Adjusted by the side of he road,
continued.
Ran through the Big Horn mountains, very kool.
Left cylinder quit again. No adjustment left, cave manned the points to
where they would open, got a little grease off the swing arm, greased
the point cam.
Over the contintental divide, saw tracks of the Oregon trail,
spectacular sunrise. (had started early to try to beat the heat) Record highs
out west. Over 105 F ever since I'd left *cool* Iowa. :)
Rode Provo canyon, and Cedar Breaks canyon.
Found oil all over the left side of the bike. (!)
Coil oil from the limey coil. :) :) the SP was rejecting the
transplant..
The timing chain was trying to tell me something by now.
Headed for LA on the slab, running 80 to 90, huddled behind the (great)
SP fairing for the last 460 miles. The canyons north of Las Vegas were
spectacular in the early morning, albeit a little warm at 113
degrees.Saw my first over $3 a gallon gas. (!)
Arrived in Redondo Beach, unloaded, hugged my sweetie, and took off for
MG classics. Scheduled a little work. Early the next day, we putt
putted the last couple of miles to Mark's on one cylinder. Again.
Josh, tattooed, pierced, etc. put in a new tensioner. *Good* mechanic.
Installed the new coils, wires, caps. Mark put in new points, timed,
went through the carbs. "WTF is this?" Rejetted, etc. Met Shawn Fader,
who's working for Mark, now. Ed Milich showed up, shot the breeze. $pent
the whole day there, was undercharged. Running like a pickle seeder.
So, no.. nothing out of the ordinary... :)
Except for the (brutal) heat.. a great adventure.