The Wasserman Times

Tuesday, July 26

Writing from "Who-knows" Montana. (Actually US-12 at Deadman's Basin Reservoir.)

Yesterday was an emotional roller coaster for me. It all started Sunday night at the very pretty St. Mary campground in Glacier. We had just finished up with dinner and while Amelia started to calculate our expenses for the week I went to check on my bike. I didn't really expect much: the tires had been holding air well, the brake fluid was brand new and Dad topped off my coolant before we left. As I was checking the bike, I noticed that the oil level seemed to be a lower than I remembered, and so, just for the hell of it I pulled the bottom cowling off of the oil pan to look for leaks. Honestly I was expecting that I didn't tighten the drain plug properly or something since I changed my own oil last time, but instead I found oil farther back, seeming to be coming out of a hole in the bottom of the transmission housing.

Not really sure what a leak from behind the engine meant but in need of an oil change anyway, we altered course and spent Monday back tracking over the mountains and then due south to get the leak looked at by the only shop in Montana in Missoula. The moment the guy at the service desk looked at the bike he diagnosed the problem as a rear main engine seal failure. That is, the seal between the engine and the transmission was starting to fail and so engine oil was leaking out the back of the engine. While the actual oil loss was not that much, it has the potential to get all over the clutch and cause it to slip. So that was the bad news of the day. The worse news was that the repair will cost $1200, maybe more and the worst news of the day was that the shop told me they couldn't do it for at least 2 weeks.

Because we were already there, I had them change my oil, and as the shop closed up for the night I rolled my bike back out into the parking lot and just kind of plopped down, feeling kind of lost and overwhelmed at the cost of the maintenance that it would need. We were originally going to camp near the town of Lolo, but instead we pulled out the BMW Anonymous book and Amelia started calling people while I started calling motorcycle shops. For those who don't know, the Anonymous book simply has lists of phone numbers by city and codes for things like camping, spare room and work space. Like the saint she is, Amelia started calling numbers in the Missoula section and even though the first four or five came up no, she just kept trying. Soon she reached someone who said we could stay with them for the night and off we went. Little did we know we were about to meet the nicest people in Montana.

Not only did this wonderful couple let us stay in their basement, they also treated us to ice cream, let us take showers, use their washing machine and even helped us with route planning. This couple, complete strangers just a few hours earlier, took us in like we were family they had known for years. After the kind of day that makes you want to abandon all hope, they were truly a godsend. We will always remember their kindness and I only hope we have the chance to pass it on to another BMW rider in need.

As for the bike, there's really nothing to do but keep riding. Several different people have told me that there is no way to know how long I have before the oil fouls my clutch, only that it will happen eventually. Right now we are about 275 miles from Missoula camped at a primitive campsite on Deadman Basin Reservoir just off of US 12. The bike still purrs along like always, and for a while today I even forgot that anything was wrong, but then I remembered, it's only a matter of time. I only hope the clutch holds out until we reach civilization again.

-Marc