US 6: Fault Repair and Slowing Down

I find it is difficult to adequately describe the relief I felt on getting back to Washington County; handing the Deuce over to Zion Harley Davidson; and, checking in to the local Holiday Inn to relax. It really did feel as though I’d dodged a bullet. Our return gave us the opportunity for motorcycle fault repair and, perhaps, some time for slowing down; maybe even some time for reflection.

The sun was getting well down but this seemed to have little effect on the temperature; a dip in the pool was the only thing that would do that. So, we hauled out our shorts and headed directly out to the pool area. Shade cloth had been installed over the pool and the water was cold. Mel was still optimistic about his chances of reviving the Laptop; so, he propped it on a table in the sun and then we both slipped into the water.

Cooling off . . . and relaxing

The heat and fatigue leached rapidly out of our bodies; within half an hour I was on the point of shivering. It was invigorating though as we sat, waist deep in cold water, and yarned. We talked about roads we’d just travelled, the people we’d met, and sights we’d seen. Ultimately though, we decided it was time to think about getting something to eat.

We climbed out, showered, and dressed. Then, two up on Mel’s Lowrider, we headed into St George in search of a Diner.  The sun had slipped behind the mountains to the west; and, the harsh sun-bleached light of the day had dimmed to the gentle twilight glow of early evening. The day’s burning intensity had softened and there was even a hint of coolness in the very thin breeze. It was a beautiful evening and we were hungry enough to eat a horse and chase the rider.

George’s Corner Restaurant

We got back on I-15 South briefly before taking the off-ramp that would deliver us to St George Boulevard. And, when we arrived on the Boulevard, right there on the corner of Ancestor Square was George’s Corner Restaurant. We left the Lowrider on its kickstand and stepped inside for a look at the menu. 

The place was what I supposed gentle people would call intimate. It had worn but highly polished hardwood floors; small oak tables and chairs; huge exposed solid timber beams; a small polished wood bar across one end of the room; and, curtained windows. On offer was everything from hamburgers – the World’s Best according to the menu – through to marinated gourmet rib-eye. The item that had me sold right from the get go was homemade apple-pie and ice cream. I can’t remember what I had as a main course, but it would have been whatever Mel had ordered. I did have the homemade apple-pie and ice cream though: it was excellent.

Downtown St George

After our meal, we took an early evening stroll along St George Boulevard. The city was so clean you could eat your dinner off the sidewalk. There was a tranquil, neat, orderliness that is rare in any city; perhaps a residual rectitude from the days when St George was a Mormon Mission.

Ultimately though, we found ourselves back at the Lowrider. And, we were about to climb aboard for the ride back to Washington, when my cell phone rang.

Diagnosis

It was Richard from Zion Harley Davidson to give me an update on the Deuce; and, to get approval to proceed with the required fault repair.

It turned out that, when the technicians had removed the primary cover, they’d discovered that the large lock-nut securing the engine sprocket to the crankshaft had worked itself loose. In fact, the only thing preventing the nut from coming completely off the crankshaft was the primary case; I guess, that was the source of the ‘clatter’ I’d heard. 

Richard said there was no damage to the case hardening of the spline on the crank; the nut and engine sprocket, however, were damaged and had to be replaced. The good news was that the techs had done a thorough check of other key components and stress points; there were no problems with the crankshaft or gearbox bearings, or the clutch. He suggested that I give approval for a full service; which seemed reasonable given that the motorcycle was already partially dismantled. I thanked him for his work and efficient service, and asked that he proceed with both parts replacement and service.

To move on . . . or relax?

I ended the call and turned to Mel.

‘Well Mate,’ I said with a grin. ‘The Deuce will be good to go by lunchtime tomorrow.’

‘Really!’ Mel exclaimed. ‘That’s great service Mate.’

‘Brilliant!’

‘So, what do you reckon . . . get on the road after lunch, or stay another night?’

‘Hell Mate . . . why don’t we spoil ourselves and stay another night. I’ve already booked and paid for it; and we’ll get a chance to do some washing and maybe, look around,’ I suggested.

‘Sounds good to me.’

The necessity of fault repair had also provided us with the opportunity of slowing down.

And with that, we climbed aboard the Lowrider and headed for Washington.

Housekeeping

Back at the Holiday Inn, I hauled out my four day’s worth of washing. Then I brewed coffee while Mel organised his dirty clothes. He’d provided the requisite quarters for the machine and dryer; I did the job. And, while we waited for the washing and drying, we talked and laughed and made a start with the important business of growing easy with each other.

Once our clothes were clean, folded and back in our room, I decided to award myself the luxury of ‘a little lie down’. Mel fussed with his damp MacBook; edited the pictures he had taken over the past couple of days; and, updated his Facebook account. At some point while all this was going on, I must have drifted off to sleep. The next I knew, I was awake, it was dark, and I was still in the clothes I’d worn out to dinner; boots and all.

Genuflecting before dawn

For a couple of minutes I just lay there listening to Mel dreaming, again, of being a motorcycle. While I didn’t have a problem with that, there didn’t seem to be much point in just lying there listening to it. I got up and slipped quietly out of the room.

Outside, the air was still and, though not cool, was pleasant enough to be out and about. The pre-dawn half-light was more than sufficient to see clearly so, I sauntered over to Mel’s Lowrider; ferreted around in his saddlebag; found the chamois; and, wiped yesterday’s bugs off the screens, tanks, fenders and front forks. Then, I sat down on the edge of the planter box that marked the perimeter of the hotel’s arrival portico. I lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and studied the Lowrider in detail.

There were several exceptional things about Mel’s Lowrider. First was the fact that it was one of Harley Davidson’s Hundredth Anniversary stable of motorcycles. That year had marked the 100th of uninterrupted production since the first Harley Davidson rolled out of the little Milwaukie factory in 1903. The badging was unique; the colour scheme special; and, the range of models produced for that year represented the culmination of a hundred years of continuous development.

A great deal

Mel had sourced his FXDL out of Delaware complete with registration and tag [number plate]. He’d found a pretty good deal, he said. But, it was not until I first laid eyes on the motorcycle in Vegas that I recognised what a great deal it actually was. 

It had billet alloy wheels; braided clutch and throttle cables; braided stainless steel brake and oil lines; and, every possible chrome accessory that could have been bolted on to a bike without destroying the machine’s integrity . The wheels and other accessories must have cost the owner as much as the bike itself – literally. 

After my first walk around the Lowrider, I turned to Mel, and said:

‘Mate, I think what you paid for was a whole catalogue of genuine Harley Davidson accessories; the motorcycle was thrown in for free!’ 

Lineage of a Lowrider

For the uninitiated, Mel’s motorcycle had origins that actually went back to the beginning of the 1970s when Harley Davidson unveiled the FX Superglide in Milwaukie. 

The FX Superglide was the Motor Company’s answer to a growing public preoccupation with custom motorcycles. Willie G Davidson had decided to design a new breed of motorcycle; one that was neither a Sportster nor a Tourer but rather a combination of the best elements of the two. 

Essentially, he designed the FX chassis to mirror the frame and rear suspension of the FLH Electra Glide and mated this to the narrower telescopic forks, front suspension and brakes from the XLH Sportster. The resulting FX Superglide was said to be the original factory custom motorcycle.

What’s in a name

Now, there are a couple of theories about the acronym for this motorcycle; and it may well be the case that both are correct. The first is that the developmental project, resulting in the FX, was titled ‘Factory Experimental’; hence the designation FX. The alternate theory is that FX derives from the fact that the motorcycle was a hybrid; it incorporating elements of both the FLH and the XLH families of machines. It made sense then that the new motorcycle be designated the FX.

From 1971, variations were developed and introduced right up until the unveiling of the FXR Superglide II in 1982. The new FXR introduced a rubber-mount engine and a five speed transmission. It was sold in a variety of model iterations until the first Dyna was released in 1991. Incidentally, and in recognition of the importance of Bike Rallies to the Motor Company in building its customer base, the first Dyna was designated the FXDB Sturgis. This was, at least in part, the reason that I wanted to visit Sturgis.

Improvements

A re-designed FXD chassis retained the rubber mounting introduced with the FXR, but reduced the number of mounts from three to two. The new mount system reduced engine movement within the frame and helped to limit the clearance necessary around the engine and tank. The new frame was also more rigid and hence more effective in handling the new, more powerful, Evolution engine.

Through the years that followed, the Company expanded the range of model offerings, and continued to make incremental upgrades to the brakes, powertrain and frame geometry until, in 1999, it introduced the first of the Twin Cam 88 power plants. And, right there in the Holiday Inn forecourt, leaning on its kickstand in the half light of early morning, was one of those Twin Cam 88 Harley Davidsons; Mel was riding thirty years of Motor Company tradition and history.

Life’s too short to drink bad coffee

I finished the cigarette; ended my musings around the history of the Harley Davidson Motor Company; and, headed back inside.

One of the many things I really like about the Holiday Inn accommodation chain is that coffee is available twenty-four hours a day; not great coffee, but coffee just the same. At this point, and at the risk of offending some of my very good American friends, I need to comment on the quality of coffee in the US.

I used to find it difficult to believe that it was possible to make bad coffee; average coffee, yes, but not bad coffee. Somehow, though, Americans have managed to do it. This is something of a mystery to me, given the large waves of Italian and other European migration to the US over the years. In Rome, I’ve had some of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. Which is not to say that there is absolutely no good coffee available in the US; it was possible to discover sporadic outbreaks of good coffee but these were few and far between.

St George . . . and the founding fathers

In any case, I poured myself a black coffee and wandered into the Guest Lounge where I found one of those glossy, pictorial, coffee table publications aimed, no doubt, at promoting tourism in the local area. In spite of myself, I read for over an hour.

I discovered that St. George carries the name of the Mormon apostle, George Smith. Colloquially known as the ‘Potato Saint’, he advocated the consumption of raw, unpeeled potatoes as a cure for scurvy. Although he didn’t actually participate in the town’s settlement, he did select many of the pioneers who did settle the area.

Original inhabitants

The earliest known inhabitants of the region, now known as Washington County, were the Virgin River Anasazi. These people lived in the area from approximately 200 B.C. to 1200 A.D; rock art and some dwelling ruins are evidence of their habitation. Sadly, the art and ruins are all that remain of those original people.

It surprised me that there would be rock art from these ancient peoples in Utah, though I’m really not sure why. Being from the Northern Territory of Australia, I’m used to seeing ancient art painted on or etched into rock; but, for some reason, it never occurred to me that I would come across similar records in the US.  

This original group of settlers was replaced or supplanted by the Pauite tribe. Whether or not this group drove out the original inhabitants is not known, but they are said to have arrived between 1100 and 1200. They used the valley as a hunting ground and for cultivating crops; including corn, wheat and melons. A gentleman by the name of Dominguez-Escalante was the first recorded European to visit the area, though fur trappers and government surveyors followed in ensuing years.

The Mormons

In 1854, the Mormon Church established an Indian mission in Santa Clara just northwest of present-day St. George. Church leaders arranged for experimental farms to be set up in the Valley; and, in 1861, nominated 309 families to establish a Cotton Mission. Many of these families were originally from the South and so had the skill and experience to grow cotton. As a ‘nod’ to their former home, the settlers called the region ‘Utah’s Dixie.’

The early years in the area were understandably difficult: settlers encountered floods, shortages of potable water and blistering summer heat. A cotton factory was established and this sporadically milled cotton for the next fifty years. Although a significant amount of cotton was produced, the venture ultimately proved not to be economically viable. Other produce from the area during these early years included silk, molasses, dried fruit and wine. 

Not a bad place to live

In 1863, St George became the designated seat of Washington County and that same year, construction began on the St. George Mormon Temple. The Apostle Daniel Wells dedicated the temple on April 6, 1877; it was the first constructed west of the Mississippi River; and, is the longest continuously operated Mormon Temple in the world.

In the years since, St George had become the largest city in Washington County and eighth largest in Utah. Its metropolitan area is home to nearly 120,000 residents and is ranked as one of the fastest growing areas in the nation – even surpassing Las Vegas in per capita growth. In more recent years, the city had become a popular retirement destination.

As is the case with most cities, St George had a great deal more to it than was obvious at first sight. I tried to imagine what the city and surrounding escarpment would look like in the depth of winter; but, in mid-summer, I was unsuccessful.

While reading, I had worked my way through several cups of coffee and a little over an hour of time. I poured another two cups and carried them up to our room in expectation that Mel would be awake – he wasn’t. So I placed the cup on his night stand and lay down while I checked his Facebook posts.

Reveille . . . sort of

About forty minutes later he stirred; probably because each time I clicked ‘Like’ on all of his many Facebook posts, his phone on the night table beside his bed ‘pinged’. Characteristically, Mel is not too conversational when he wakes; he considers waking in the morning to be personally offensive – but, after a few minutes, I ventured a comment.

‘Hey Mate,’ I said. ‘We probably ought to get something to eat before they clear breakfast away.’

‘You’re right . . .  as usual,’ he muttered as he sat up.

‘Morning Mate,’ I said.

‘You know my phone’s been pinging non-stop for the last hour or so.’

‘I know, I’ve been clicking ‘Like’ on all your Facebook posts.’

‘You’re a prick, you know that?’

‘Yep. I’m your older brother, that’s my job!’

He continued to mutter darkly about inconsiderate cretins who interfered with sleep; but, he grudgingly got out of bed, showered, and dressed. Then we headed downstairs.

The daily tariff at Holidays Inns always includes Breakfast. It didn’t hold a candle to breakfast at the Galaxy Diner in Hatch, but it was breakfast; cereals, toast, jam, scrambled eggs, orange, apple juice, and passable coffee. And, while we ate, we talked about our Dad; about motorcycles in general; and, ours in particular. And we yarned about some of what we’d done over the last forty years. There was so much I didn’t know about my brother, and quite a deal he didn’t know about me. What was really going on, of course, was we were moving closer together; testing the boundaries and divining where the emotional landmines might be buried.

We should have known better

Breakfast was done and dusted by the time we decided to stroll outside; mainly so I could have a smoke. And then, because we could, we decided to walk the couple of hundred yards to Zion Harley Davidson; to check out what might be new in the way of motorcycles, accessories and clothing.

It’s always a mistake to go wandering around in any Harley Davidson Dealership. If there is something you need, you go there, buy the item and leave. If you go there with nothing much in mind, it always costs you. There are, of course, the latest motorcycles on display. But, once you’ve perused these, there are always leather jackets, jeans, gloves, helmets, and the ever present range of T-shirts.

I don’t remember what Mel purchased, but I came away with gloves, a helmet, and a handful of Zion Harley Davidson T-shirts. We carted our merchandise back to our room and then decided that it was plenty hot enough for a dip in the pool. But, we’d no sooner decided on a swim when my cell phone rang.

It was Richard, from Zion Harley Davidson, to let me know that the Deuce was good to go. The fault repair was done and dusted and so too, I guess, was our slowing down. Our dip in the pool got deferred and we headed back to the Dealership.

Paying the tallyman

Richard’s team has not only found and repaired the problem; checked other key components and wear points; carried out a major service; but, as a totally unexpected bonus, they had washed and polished the Deuce. I paused for a moment to admire the chrome and paintwork gleaming in the sun, before stepping inside to settle the bill and collect the keys and fob.

The cashier slid the invoice towards me across the polished counter. The work done on the Deuce together with details of the service were recorded; and, there at the bottom of the invoice was the total owing – $368.65. I turned the invoice over to see if I’d missed something – I hadn’t. I handed over my credit card and settled.

Back home in Darwin, a major service alone would have cost seven hundred and fifty dollars. Here in Washington County at Zion Harley Davidson, they had identified and repaired the problem; checked for other potential issues; carried out a major service; and, supplied all labour and parts for $368.65. Further, they had done this work without notice when they were fully booked; and, a they did a significant amount of this work after normal working hours.

That’s what I call service

I asked if I could see Richard and, when he emerged through the swing doors that separated the reception area from the workshop, I said:

‘Mate, I don’t know what to say. You’ve not only identified and repaired the bike and carried out a major service, you’ve managed to do it in under twenty-four hours for less than three hundred and seventy dollars. I’m not sure what I can do to thank you.’

‘No problem my friend . . . service is what we do,’ he said with a smile.

‘Well, I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced service like this before, so . . . thank you – you’ve shown me what serious, professional service is.’

‘Thank you my friend. I wish you both a safe journey; after all, riding is what Harley Davidson has always been about.’

We shook hands, and then I went outside; fired up the Deuce; and, rode out of the dealership forecourt and back up to the Holiday Inn.

We gave the rest of the day over to sitting in the pool; admiring our bikes; and, packing the merchandise we had acquired from the Zion Dealership. While we were in the pool, Mel propped his MacBook on a table in the sun so that it could dry out – again. Much later, we cruised around town to take in the sights; to have coffee; and at the end of the day, to have dinner. I don’t remember where or what we ate but it would have been ‘whatever Mel was having’.

Slowing down

Our enforced stay in St George had brought with it unexpected benefits for both of us. Mel had arrived in the US suffering the residual effects of a particularly bad bout of bronchitis. While working to carry out his clerical responsibilities, he had been struggling to reconstruct his life and family after his marriage had fallen apart. It is difficult to say and, I guess, more than a little selfish, but the truth is that we probably would not be taking this road trip together if his marriage had not fallen apart.

Trauma of any kind forces each of us to step back and take a close look at the lives we’ve been living. We critically evaluate our commitments; revisit our values; look at things from an altered perspective; change or re-order our priorities; and, often we change direction. This process can be disturbing, painful and exhausting, and although Mel had travelled a considerable distance on this journey, it was not over yet.

Shifting perspectives

I, on the other hand, had worked long hours to finalise the formalities of Catholic Secondary Principal Australia’s financial year. And, right after scrambling to meet audit deadlines, I’d jumped on a plane for the long flight to Los Angeles and Vegas. Our stay in St George had provided us with an opportunity to slow down, relax, and smell the roses – so to speak.

So, in St George, Utah we’d discovered some truth. Sometimes, you just have to stop rushing around and chasing things; you have to be still long enough to talk, to laugh, to appreciate what you have; and, you have to let the wisdom of life creep silently into your soul.

But, it was also time for us to move on. We were both looking forward to travelling again; to seeing and experiencing new places; and, to the road trip ahead – and we agreed that we would do this by taking roads less travelled.

Just a thought . . .

Sometimes, you have to be still long enough

to talk, to laugh, to appreciate what you have

and 

to let the wisdom of life creep silently into your soul.

Click to continue reading: US 7 On the Road Again