The Wasserman Times

August 5, 2011

We arrived in Boston around eleven o'clock Wednesday night tired and wet. Fortunately my aunt and uncle were still awake to let us in. I still don't know exactly how far we went that day, but it must have been close to 450 miles. I never expected to do Niagara Falls to Boston in one day, but with the weather the way it was, the thought of being warm and dry that night kept us going. I'm a little disappointed we didn't get to see the Adirondacks, but at the same time I'm also kind of proud of our mileage. To all those thousands milers out there, yeah, I know you can go farther than us, so please just let me have this moment.

As for the bike, we dropped it off the next day at Duncan's Beemers in Maynard. The leak really hadn't gotten any worse in the couple thousand miles since I discovered it, but I still feel better getting it fixed before we head back into the wilderness that is the Great Plains. Since Philip had arrived in Boston by this point, both he and Amelia tagged along behind me in a car the ten miles or so to the shop to give me a ride back.

The shop itself was a small blue building just off the road. Though there wasn't actually a sign on the street, I figured I was at the right place when I saw the six or eight old Beemers parked in front. On the side of the building behind what used to be a store front but had been reclaimed for parts storage was an open garage door. I parked the bike, pulled off my helmet and walked up to the door where I saw a middle aged man with a large gray beard standing in the doorway.

“Hello,” I said in his direction to no response. I could now see the man was holding a cloth and very methodically polishing an old chrome gas cap.

“Just a minute,” he replied slowly, not really to me or even in my direction.

After another minute he put down the gas cap and stuck out a greasy hand, “Hi, I'm Dun-can,” he said in a sort of slow, methodical monotone. I introduced myself, my motorcycle and my problem until a look of recognition came across his face. I took him around my bike, showed him the oil leak and then recounted every other little thing I could think off the top of my head. That probably took a half hour or so. Where the other two hours at the shop went I'm not really sure. I started discussing transmissions and he showed us the innards of one that was apart. Phil asked about how to disassemble some pieces of the R90 and so we looked at a similar bike. Next thing I knew though, it was four o'clock in the afternoon and we were still at the shop. Despite my disbelief at the time we spent at the shop, I was thinking about it, and I've decided that I'd rather have my bike serviced by someone who cares as much as Duncan than from someone in a hurry.

Fortunately we still made it home in time for dinner which we ate over at Karen and Betsy's house. Philip, Amelia and I all decided to go up to Maine the next day with Karen to help her with the kids. Henry and Jayla are good kids, but together they are trouble. It's always, “Mom, Jayla hit me,” or “Mommy, Henry's being mean to me,” and the result is someone ends up screaming. Anyway, we decided to ride along in Karen's car, if nothing else, to help provide entertainment while Karen drives.