The Poseidon Adventure: Part 5

There are events that can make a person flip out. There are people who flip out on a routine basis.

This was not one of those times, I am not one of those people.

Flipping out is a luxury. It’s reserved for those who don’t manage their own affairs. Flipping out is for fools, morons, weaklings, poseurs, and politicians.

More to the point, things had gone bad and it was important to keep them from going worse. I was soaked in ice water, standing next to a dead motorcycle, in the middle of nowhere. Sunset was approaching. Time to get a grip and manage the situation. This isn’t as easy as it sounds:

The brain says: “OK Curmudgeon, lets assess the situation. The bike seems…”

The body says: “IT’S SCREWED! IT’S FUCKED! I HAVEN’T EVEN MADE THREE PAYMENTS YET! IT’S…”

The brain says: “Nope! Aint’ going there right now. Time to prioritize…”

The body says: “THERE’S LESS THAT 250 MILES ON IT! THIS ISN’T PART OF THE BREAK IN PROCEDURE!”

The brain says: “Shut up! That’s not highest priority right now. You need to let me be in charge!”

The body says: “BUT…”

The brain says: “No ‘buts’. Pack your emotional outburst into a nice tight ball…”

The body says: “AND?”

The brain says: “…and hurl it into the woods.”

The body says: “Ouch. You’re mean.”

The brain says: “Whatever. Calm the hell down so I can fix this.”

The body says: “I concur. But… can we?”

The brain says: “Do a Star Trek monologue?”

The body says: “Please?”

The brain says: “Hell yes!”

---

Me: “Damage report!”

Bones: “You idiot! You just drove into a lake!”

Me: “Worf, Bones is too emotional. Throw him out of the airlock.”

Spock: “Worf isn’t even cannon. That’s a whole different cast.”

Me: “Worf, throw Spock out of the airlock too.”

Worf: “That’s not even Start Trek, it’s 2001 A Space Odyssey!”

Me: “HAL, chuck Worf, Spock, and Bones out of the airlock.”

HAL: “It’s done.”

Josua: “Would you like to play a game?”

Data: “It seems you’ve pissed off every Star Trek fan in creation.”

Me: “And fans of WarGames?”

Data: “There are no fans of WarGames.”

Me: “Good point. OK Zuckerberg, give me a sitrep.”

Data: “You have less than 90 minutes before sunset. But no sign of hypothermia yet.”

Me: “And no injuries!”

Data: “You can always start a fire if you need to, or walk out, but perhaps in 90 minutes you could…”

Me: “Unscrew this pooch!”

Data: “Your idioms are confusing… but yes.”

Me: “OK, let’s see what I’ve inflicted on this poor machine.”

Data: “First, you may wish to send a SpotX Message. If not for rescue, at least to communicate your location; in case you, as you say, screw the pooch again.”

Me: “Good point.”

I used a pre-programmed SpotX message I set for this situation: “Shit has gotten real. Do nothing, but please monitor this and other forms of communication in case things get worse.”

The thought of people carefully staying by their phone in case I really couldn’t fix my mess was a morale booster. Also, I didn’t want to waste my precious daylight typing detailed messages into the SpotX’s little Blackberry keyboard. That’s something to do later and at leisure.

I hit the starter and it turned over. I only let it cycle a half second because something reminded me to stop.

Data: “The engine may have water in it.”

Me: “Oh yeah, hydrolock. That’d suck.”

Hydrolock is when you put a liquid, which is not compressible, into an engine cylinder that’s meant for gases, which are compressible. You can hammer an engine to death doing that. I should’ve known to stay away from that starter!

I grabbed the right sidecover, which popped right off, and retrieved the emergency tool kit.

Data: “The tool set you carefully amassed…”

Me: “Is back at the garage. I already know I suck.”

The OEM emergency tool set is chintzy but it has a nice spark plug wrench. The TW is a “thumper”; that means it’s a one-cylinder engine. I had the plug boot pulled off and the plug out of there in no time.

The idea here is to cycle the engine with the starter. With the spark plug removed, the water (if there is any) has a place to escape. Thus, avoiding hydrolock and clearing the cylinder to operate properly in the future. It’s a thing I know about but have never had to do.

The bad part is that you’re using up your scant battery. Pros and cons to all things. I cycled a bit but nowhere near enough to drain the battery. That would have to do. (I wish the TW came with a kick starter but that’s something that 2020 models don’t have. It was a stock feature from 1986 – 2000 so there’s 20 years of people getting by. I’d love to install one as a modification. In the short term, I had plans to buy a battery booster in case I ever drained my battery. In the shorter term, I’d done neither.)

It turned over pretty good, I had hope. Then popped off the left side cover. Beneath this was an air filter, though I’d never actually seen it. It took just a few minutes to figure out how it was built and unscrew the cover. I was dismayed when a teacup’s worth of pond drooled out. The air filter was soaked so I started squeezing that Charmin like my life depended on it. I had to get the water out of it.

Data: “Your SpotX has a message; it is from one of your monitors. ‘What gives?’ How shall I reply?”

My alter ego imagination sent out a message to that particular person. “I was stupid. Bike’s dead. I’m not. Sunset soon, will get cold. Stay tuned.”

The response came back in about 5 minutes, pretty fast for satellite chatter. “Can confirm. Good luck dummy.”

I opened my luggage to retrieve my dry socks. I used them to pat down the airbox. I wanted it as dry as possible.

Suddenly I paused. Wow!

Data: “Your toolbox was waterproof even under extreme conditions.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s awesome! I didn’t expect that.” The bottom box, which I’d drilled and (I belatedly remembered) forgot to seal the drill holes, was moist but not wet. My cell phone and some tools and stuff were basically fine. The thinner box above it, which is unmodified and holds a delicate iPad, was bone dry. Excellent! The zipper topped case above that, which isn’t even supposed to be waterproof, was mostly dry. I’m sure if I’d left the bike in the water for an hour the contents would be soaked, but it held for a few minutes.

Data: “A successful pass of your first real world test for the luggage.”

Me: “I’m as surprised as you.”

Data: “There’s another SpotX message for you; ‘This is Scotty. Why am I not part of your monologue? And why the hell did you drive into a lake?!?’.”

Me: “Put that thing away. I’m going to fire her up!”

By then I’d buttoned up the airbox and was ready to roll the dice. This was the moment of truth.

It didn’t start. I was crushed!

Data: “Apparently you are getting the adventure you craved; good and hard.”

Me: “Nice use of an idiom.”

Data: “I endeavor to be more like a human.”

I waved him away, this wasn’t fun anymore. “Buzz off Pinocchio.” With that, my monologue was done and I was alone again. I really was screwed. I looked at the sky, the sun was sinking. I’d definitely done this to myself. I’d chose this purchase and activity. It was planned.

I leaned against a tree and wiped a cold, soaking wet hand across my furrowed brow.

“I guess…” I was speaking to myself, miles away from the nearest other human.

“I guess this was part of the plan.”

…

I circled the bike. There was firewood nearby. The sun hadn’t yet set. Now what?

Then I saw it. The spark plug boot was still disconnected.

I popped it on and the bike fired right up.

YES!

…

It seemed to be running fine. I hurriedly grabbed my things and packed up. It’s a cold-blooded little beast and I figured it would be best to let it warm up. On a whim I grabbed my cell phone and turned it on. Surprisingly, I had service. I called voice mail to Mrs. Curmudgeon. The thing about voice mail is that it’s instant. You don’t have to worry that the message didn’t go through.

Mrs. Curmudgeon: Blearily, “Whhhaaaaat?”

Me: “You can stand down. I got this. Just wanted you to know.”

Mrs. Curmudgeon: “Huh?”

It was then that I realized Mrs. Curmudgeon had been napping. She probably hadn’t read a single one of my SpotX texts. “I’m fine, I’ve got to go. Check your texts.”

I put on my helmet and rolled out.

…

The ride out was actually quite lovely. It was also several miles longer than half mile I’d guessed when pondering hiking out.

I was on pins and needles. Every tiny hiccup in the motor and I thought that might be the end of it. I didn’t hesitate when the trail dumped out onto a paved road; I never even left second gear. I hightailed it for the truck with the focus of a cruise missile. By the time I got to the truck, some 10 miles after my “event”, I had a bit of what I call “Harley Idle” but the bike still ran great. I guessed the wet airbox was interrupting the air supply a bit? Or maybe there was water in the gas line? For all I knew, there was a fish in the tank! Regardless, I’d slid into home base. SAFE!

Soon the bike was in the garage, I was in the shower, and the day was done.

I’d gotten my adventure… good and hard.