Brian: The fuel consumption is over seven litres per 100 kilometres today and that just isn’t right, even with a strong head wind.
I put the bike on the centre stand and spin the back wheel. It should run freely and it isn’t. It’s sluggish, like the brake is on. I think we’re in real trouble. I’m hoping it’s just the constantly weeping rear drive seal and I’ll be able to nurse the bike home by topping up the oil every day or so. The only way to find out is take the rear wheel off.
It’s doesn’t take much to unbolt the wheel and what it reveals is really bad. The metal in the rear drive is scarred. It looks as though it’s been white hot. That’s not good. I drain the oil and can’t find any metal shavings in it, which is a good sign. It means nothing’s been grinding away inside the drive.
Shirl’s hovering around, trying to be positive. About the only thing to be positive about is she reactivated our RACV roadside assist membership when we were still in South Africa. I give them a call and explain the predicament. The operator says she’ll get the local mechanic, who we didn’t know existed out here in the middle of nowhere, to come to the motel and check out the bike.
He pulls up outside our room about half an hour later. He’s very laid back and has no hesitation offering his opinion. The bearing or universal joint is gone.
His advice is simple. Don’t drive it. It’s dangerous. It could go another hundred kilometres or it could go another ten. It will seize completely and at any speed that could be calamitous.
He suggests Brian put oil back in the diff, just in case someone decides to take the bike for a test ride and does even more damage.
For a fleeting moment I think he could be our ticket out of here with a tow to a large town where we could hire or buy a ute and put the bike in the back. Alas, he can’t tow us out of here because the diff ’s gone in his truck and his wife won’t let him use her car to tow. He’ll contact the RACV and give them the good news. We’re pretty much stranded and our immediate future is in the hands of the automobile club in Victoria.
When the RACV ring back we’ve been allocated a case manager. She says we’re closest to Perth and suggests we go back there and get the bike repaired. That doesn’t make sense. We need to keep coming east. The other options are going to Adelaide for a repair or taking us all the way home to Melbourne.
First things first, I need to sort out where to get the bike repaired. The part isn’t one that any mechanic will have lying about his workshop.
Shirley: From the motel room window there’s a tiny glimpse of the Southern Ocean and the white sands of Eucla beach. My mood doesn’t match this beautiful sight.
This isn’t the way we planned to end our trip. We’ve travelled more than 82,000 kilometres through 32 countries, across six continents. We’re just about home and this happens. It’s like the bike’s had enough.
I’m devastated and I’m shattered for Brian. He so wanted to ride the bike all the way home. That’s one of the reasons we didn’t ship home by sea from North America or UK.
We sleep badly and spend a couple of hours in the middle of the night discussing our options. Brian says he could hitch a lift to Ceduna, leaving me here with the bike, buy a ute that will take the bike on the tray, come back and get us to drive home.
We could get a tow to Adelaide for a repair, but that could mean being stranded there for days. We’d get there on the weekend, BMW would look at the bike on Monday and then they’d have to order the parts. It’s all a nightmare.
We’re about 1,200 kilometres from Adelaide and 2,000 from home. There’s no longer a public bus on this road. The only way out will be with the tow truck that takes the bike out.
Brian: The RACV ring early and tell us they’re going to find a towing company to take us and the bike home. It won’t be very comfortable travelling such a distance in the front seat of a tow truck but it’s the only option and it’s free. They’ll also pay for tonight’s accommodation in Eucla.
In a couple of hours they call back and tell us Dial-a-Tow will come and get us tomorrow sometime. They’ll take us all the way home to suburban Melbourne. The tow truck is coming from Adelaide and should be leaving there soon.
Shirl hits the phone. We have to let Sonia, our house-sitter know we’ll be home in a couple of days, earlier than expected. We have to let family and friends know that everything has changed. There’ll be no celebratory dinner in Apollo Bay now.
•
John from Dial-a-Tow arrives not long after nine. He left Adelaide yesterday and managed to get a few hours sleep along the way. He brings a motorcycle transport — a VW van with a floor that lowers so we can push the bike in. Strapped in and with our luggage and bike gear wedged around it, it’s not going to move.
Shirley: The van’s bench seat isn’t anywhere near as comfortable as the bike but at least it’s in a vehicle that’s mobile. John’s a knockabout kind of bloke who’s been a truckie and a tow truck driver most of his life. He’s very patient, but I’m sure I drive him crazy over the next 13 hours on the road talking my way to Port Augusta.
He has some sympathy for our predicament and takes us to one of the Great Australian Bite viewpoints but it’s not the same with the bike in the back of the van and not on the road.
It’s a hideously long day. It’s after 10 at night by the time we find a motel and we need to be on the road by 5.00 am to make it home to Melbourne tomorrow night.
Brian: Next morning it’s pitch black when we get on the road to Adelaide. John tells us the company is going to shift the bike onto a full-sized tow truck so he can pick up a car in Melbourne to bring back to Adelaide.
The transfer doesn’t take long and the bike looks very tragic perched up on this massive tray. It’s a long day and Shirl just keeps on talking. I know she’s trying to keep us amused but I reckon John would probably rather she didn’t.
Shirley: I laugh at the memory of the tow truck driver in South America who turned up the radio to stop me talking to him in my bad Spanish. These two have no choice. They have to listen.
Around 7.00 o’clock we pull into the driveway. Sonia has a chilled champers at the ready. Our dog, Jasper goes nuts. He certainly hasn’t forgotten us. Even the cat, Emily turns up to see what all the fuss is about.
John gets the bike off the tow truck and Brian pushes it into the garage. That’s it. It’s all over.
Brian: I can’t believe it. We’re home and everything’s pretty much as when we left. Have we really travelled around the world over the last 16 months? I sit back and let all the chatter turn into white noise. I’m lost in my own thoughts of a fantastic journey with my wonderful wife who enthusiastically embraced my passion and dreams.
Life on the road on a motorcycle isn’t always easy, but to me, the adversities are far outweighed by the sights, sounds and smells. Your senses are alive. The people you meet, the camaraderie of fellow motorcyclists, are the icing on the cake.
Before I get too old, where to next?
Shirley: This has been the most incredible journey. While I’ve suffered homesickness that, at times, actually caused me a physical pain, I’ve had the time of my life. I’ve missed family, friends and the comforts of home, but I’ve visited Antarctica, Galapagos, seen the bottom of the world and the top. I’ve seen bears, penguins, whales, seals, iguana, giant tortoise, elk, moose, lions, elephants, buffalo, monkeys, zebra, giraffe and much, much more. We’ve made lifelong friends and now we’re home to catch up with old friends and family. Bring it on.
Epilogue
Phil Marshall, our mechanic, found the only rear drive for the R1200 GSA in Australia and by the middle of the week the bike was back on the road.
We rode down to Apollo Bay and our family and friends joined us for a slap up welcome home dinner at Gavan’s restaurant.
The bike travelled 82,632 kilometres under its own steam and a further 2,014 in the recovery van and on the tow truck.
It wasn’t the perfect end to our journey but we have plenty to be happy about
. We didn’t come off the bike despite the shock and the rear drive giving up. We had one flat tyre and constant repairs on the rear drive seal.
We had the time of our lives.
It was one hell of a ride.
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