Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Road Trip

Day two started off very well. Up early and made it through Atlanta without hitting traffic. Obviously Atlanta is a well known fugking schit hole so I was happy to get past there quick.

After going through some passes up toward Nashville the BMW started doing its "danger Will Robinson" routine. There's not a single aspect of that bike that doesn't have a sensor and it told me pressure in the rear tire was down to about 35psi. I disregarded at first thinking maybe the elevation change was fugking with the Euro-trash built instruments. But as things kept dropping I decided to take it serious. Stopped and verified with a gauge and it mirrored what the sensors were reporting. Thought perhaps it was an uber slow leak so gave it shot and got back on the road.



No dice. "Mother" came back with the same schitty news so I stopped and got a can of fix o' flat.



Not the kind I prefer but beggars can't be choosers. Deflated it down a bit and gave it hell. Pressure came back to 41 and tire took the foam. Time to gamble.

Back on the road and you know what happens next.

I stop at a truck stop and get a access to a legit air compressor. Park next to it and start making phone calls. At this point I'm only about 15 miles (I think) south of Nashville. Get a hold of a Honda dealer and share my sob story. She checks to see if they have my tire. They don't.

I ask her if there are any shops that may have one and she recommends a place called "Sloans" which I had already overshot. She tells me they'll have it but won't put it on. But if I could get the bike to her by 4p (they closed at 5p) she'd have a tech put it on for me.

I call Sloans. YAHTZEE!

I pump up the tire to around 60psi but I know I'm on borrowed time. Guy from the truck stop comes out and starts asking what I'm doing. I explain. He doesn't like my explanation. I tell him to go fugk himself and that southern hospitality is a myth.

Haul ass down to Sloans. Tire is on sale. Give the lady $200, throw it on the back of the BMW and jump back on so I can haul ass to the Honda shop. I'm 99% sure my charm is great enough to convince their service department to put the tire on for me. I was wrong. They did not give a fugk and would not touch that BMW.

Just as I'm about to drive off, I see another private shop titled "Cycles & Stuff." The "cycles" means they work on cycles, the "stuff" means they give tattoos. I put the stand down and walk over. Explain my sob story. Lady says "No problem, bring it over."



These people could not be more helpful. Not only did they put me in the front of the to-do line (that's what she said) they came back and told me they could plug the leak. I laughed and said I didn't think anyone would plug a bike tire these days. She simply replied "We do."

I give the green light. Walk back over to Sloans, explain the situation and they didn't even blink an eye. Gave me my $200 back.

Back on the road but I know at this point I'm looking at rush hour in Nashville. No thanks. I am well within striking distance of Nashville. Time to stop and get hungover again.