Now we are on for the final push home, a 3 state day (Utah, Wyoming, Colorado). We are on the road early (around 7:00 am), and head towards I-80. With 3 bars on the fuel gauge, we stop at a place on the edge of town for coffee, fuel, and something to eat for breakfast.
The fuel pump says 'See Cashier' when I insert my credit card. Going inside, I am informed that their gas pumps are not working and that someone is on the way to fix them. Not wanting to wait around, we continue on down the road.
Now with the fuel gauge showing 2 bars we see a 'gasoline available' road sign at the next small town. Turning off the highway, we head into town but can't find the gas station. So we are on the road again.
In a short while we reach I-80, but now the fuel gauge is showing only 1 bar. Hmm... The next exit says 'No Services'. The exit after that says 'No Services'. The next exit is a long way off. Can we make it to Evanston, WY?
I slow the speed down and drive on the shoulder to conserve fuel. We pass the port of entry/watercraft check station, and continue along slowly. Eventually the engine just stops. No sputtering, no warning, no nothing. Over 7000 miles driving through sparsely populated British Columbia, the Yukon, and Alaska, and I run out of fuel in Utah - Ack!
Conveniently, we still have a whole liter of 'white gas' for the camp stove, which we haven't used for a while. It all goes into the gas tank. The Spyder doesn't like this fuel very much (it pings), but it seems to run reasonably well. At about 40 miles a gallon, I mentally calculate that we can continue run for about 10 miles. Soon we pass a sign that says it is now 10 miles to Evanston.
Continuing to drive slowly on the shoulder, we take the first exit into Evanston and again run out of fuel about two tenths of a mile from a gas station which I can see on the other side of an overpass. I grab the camp stove fuel bottle and start walking. In no time a police officer stops and asked if I am the guy with the out of gas motorcycle. "Yes I am" I reply. He says to get in the truck and takes me to the nearest gas station where I fill up the fuel bottle. He then says he would take me back to the bike. With another liter of fuel in the tank the Spyder starts right up and off we go to the gas station and fill 'er up.
After a tasteless Mc Donalds' breakfast muffin and coffee we are back on the road cruising at full speed.
At one of the rest areas in Wyoming I encounter a guy riding a Volkswagen-powered motorcycle. He tells me he is from Brazil and is heading to Sturgis. Yes, the bike has a Brazilian license plate. He tells me that except for a section in Central America, he rode this thing all the way from Brazil (Colombia, Mexico, Arizona, Utah, Wyoming).
When I said that we were on our way home from Alaska, he thought that was pretty cool and asked how many miles we had ridden. I told him that we had ridden about 7,000 miles. I really liked this guy and wish that I could have spent some time talking with him, as he probably has some really good stories.
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| Now this is a RIDE! |
I believe that his bike started out life as an Amazonas.
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