Flat Tires

It's 102 degrees outside. A thick, choking dust from 10 dirt bike riders hangs in the air like a San Francisco fog, except in the Bay area a fog like that means much cooler weather. We had just pulled over and were examing Tom Sawyer's flat tire. It looked like a wet noodle on the rear of his Suzuki DRZ, effectively saying "you guys are not going anywhere anytime soon - hope you got some water and tire irons".

With 10 very experienced off-road riders in the pack, it was no time before we had the bike propped over against a rock, the rear wheel off, and the tire ready to come off the rim. We could all help with this task, but once you start removing the tire and patching the tube, only two people can effectively pitch in. So like any good dirt bike rider, the rest of us stood around and gave advice. Since it was Tom's bike natually he wanted to be the one changing the tire. Who would be the helper, the one that would get bloody knuckles and sweat dripping off their nose while the others watched with impatience? Let's see, draw straws? Rock/paper/scissors? Indian leg wrestle? Adam Pratt, the youngest rider of the group, quickly volunteered - or did is older, more experienced, and lazier riders volunteer him? Either way, we now had the oldest rider and the youngest rider prying away like drunken sailors, while the rest of the pack gave advice, told tall tales about how fast we used to be, and snapped pictures of the pit crew slaving away. The nearest shade was a scrawny sapling 20 yards away, but with only enough shade for a lizard, this didn't do us much good. A cold Budweiser would have been a welcome addition to to the team.

In no time Adam and Tom had the tube patched and the tire back on the bike. The NASCAR-level pit crew slapped the wheel back on the embarressed DRZ, and in 15 minutes we were back on the trail, spitting rocks and dust on the southeast Oklahoma two-track.

But wait, only a mile down the trail, Tom was missing again. Backtracking like an indian scout, we found him once again on the side of the trail, the ingomious tire flat once again. DAMN!! We didn't even get far enough for a good breeze to drive the sweat from our bodies. I am guessing our world class pit crew pinched the tube in their rush to beat the clock and the heat. So this time we get to do it all again, but at a slower, more cautious pace.

Flat tires are a way of life for off-road riders. When you travel to the remote wilds of southeast Oklahoma, you better have tire irons, spare tubes, and a way to inflate the tire or it could be a LONG, slow, wobbly ride back to camp.