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7-29-06
Journal - Jack story
Departing by bike from Changchun and their travels to
Erlinhot
Page 2
The lead bikes were something like you might imagine
coming from the movie Spaceballs!
Mostly Honda Goldwings but with a twist. Each carried a
sound system capable of deafening the audience of a
large movie theater. Speakers mounted in metal support
brackets reminiscent of a moon-lander. The speakers were
enhanced with little doo dahs clamped, bolted or
otherwise attached with the seemingly unique purpose of
occupying space. On the front of the bikes were an
assembly of horns, mirrors, more doo dahs and still
other stuff. To supplement the magnificence of these
machines were miles of plastic tubing housing LED lights
that I am sure would frighten even the most avid UFO fan
if first glimpsed at night.
But the most outstanding of the lead
bikes was a large scooter, outfitted like the Goldwings
but with an added structure that looked like a roll bar,
going front to back, that supported an additional mile
or so of tubing encased LED lights. Tamara mentioned
that the only thing missing was the disco ball.
Behind us were the Chang Jiangs and finally the
remaining bikes. The signal to start was given and the
bikes powered up and moved off in a relatively orderly
fashion. We continued along Jie Feng, through the FAW
section of town and soon moved onto a street that would
really take us out of Changchun, or so I thought.
Near the big meat processing plant we stopped for
another series of photos. More autographs and more
questions. Didn’t these people know we were anxious to
get started? But then this is what I thought I wanted
and I was stuck with it. Big smile, big wave, answer one
more question and it was time to leave again. By now
most of the bikes were falling off but our Goldwings and
‘Super Scooter’ were still with us.
Finally on our way to Siping where our escort would
leave us and we could really be under way. The day was
perfect, clear, and still cool and the road was great.
No pot holes, no construction and virtually no traffic
and then the press car appeared once more. We were
scheduled for one more stop in the town ahead.
A few more pictures and then the instruction, “Go to the
sign, then turn around and wave.” Two small bikes, 150cc
Chinese motorcycles, had decided to go all the way to
Siping with us. Almost free.
After a good lunch with out escorts, our destination was
Shenyang.
I hate driving in big cities, especially Chinese Cities.
No only can’t we speak Chinese, we are and have been
since our arrival, illiterate. Our only option is to
find a cab and have him lead us to a hotel and the only
hotel I have ever stayed at was the Holiday Inn—our
first out of budget hotel but with a reason. I knew that
parking would be relatively secure and Tamara’s rear
tire had worn to the fabric and needed to be changed. I
knew there would be space for this.
We have lived in China for nearly five years and I have
driven a Chang Jiang for two years. Last April, Janet
and I went to Beijing to pick up the bike after having
the new BMW engine installed and rode it back to
Changchun, albeit with some significant problems, but
nevertheless we considered this as part of our shakedown
run.
Tamara’s bike arrived in June, again with some minor
problems but we knew that we would spend at least two
days with Jim Bryant, Frank Li and Mr. Kong at Frank’s
Classic Sidecars (one of our sponsors) getting the bikes
ready for the Dragin’ Run. The run to Beijing was to be
her break-in.
The short story is that she began to have carb problems
withy the associated loss of power that one experiences
when a carburetor is fouled with dirt. More significant
was a malfunction in the transmission that effectively
caused her to slip out of second and third gear almost
as soon as she shifted.
On the second day I started to have a bit of trouble
with my carbs and by the time we limped into Beijing I
think everyone was wondering about the decision to ride
a Chang, BMW powered or not around the world. At the
same time I was confident that the crew at Frank’s
Classic Sidecars would solve the problems. After all,
they have built several bikes that have done long
distance rides with few, if any, problems. We finally
arrived in the early evening and managed to get a hotel
and grab a Subway sandwich before calling it a night.
Over the next two days, the crew virtually disassembled
the bike. One significant decision was to change
transmissions. Get rid of the newer transmission with
the reverse gear (it was really cool to back-up on the
bike to the amazement of onlookers) for the more
reliable and stronger old style transmission sans
reverse. Carbs were tested and installed, all fluids
were replaced, and nothing was overlooked. The bikes
were Mongolia ready!
We also met Roel Hendrix from Shanghai who was doing
some work on his bike at the shop. Roel is kind of the
mad scientist of Chang Jiangs. Not only has he rewired
the bike with two batteries and a large inverter,
rerouted his ignition and set up a security circuit to
prevent easy theft by hot wiring. But his greatest
achievement was to add a water heater by routing his
left exhaust pipe through a stainless steel container
with appropriate venting and a spicket from which he can
make coffee as soon as he stops.
On Monday morning, with a full compliment of spare parts
including four new carburetors, rear brake shoes and
other assorted items that could fail, we set off. Jim
was supposed to ride to Ulaan Baator with us but
business demands dictated that he fly to Mexico on
Sunday so Frank Li decided to ride with us just to be
sure we were OK.
As soon as we started the climb over the mountains that
surround Beijing, both Tamara and I began to experience
power problems. Frank rode my bike, not too bad. Then he
rode Tamara’s bike. Not sure so he rode it some more. By
mid afternoon he changed one of Tamara’s carbs and from
then on, no problems.
A small electrical problem had developed with Tam’s
bike. Start the bike with the lights on and the main
fuse would blow. We thought this problem had been
resolved but here it was, back again. The next morning
Frank took care of this and since both bikes were
functioning well, we told Frank to go back to Beijing.
No sooner than Frank disappeared around the bend when my
carbs started acting up. I was fine at higher RPM but at
low revs I was in trouble. “Never mind, let’s push on
until we stop for the night.”
By mid-afternoon I decided to change carbs. Pull over
near an abandoned building, unpack the tools and get a
new carb. The first carb leaked, the second carb leaked;
in fact all the carbs leaked. I knew the problem; the
float in the gas bowl would sometimes stick and had to
be adjusted. Back to the original carb and find the next
city with a hotel and work on the carbs.
Our hotel was a whorehouse attached to a public bath.
The room had a western toilet and shower but no toilet
paper (common) and no towels (also common I am told).
“Where are the towels, we want a shower.” “Ah, no
shower, here is a coupon for free use of the bathhouse.”
Many of the rooms were reserved for the bathhouse and
the girls who worked there. Doors and windows are left
open for ventilation. As Janet and I walked down the
hall, I noticed two pair of very different feet on the
bed; Janet saw the porn flic on the TV. No question
about the activity or the purpose of the building.
We decided to spend another night and get an early start
on the ride the next day. I had to get to an Internet
bar and so did the others. All young Chinese men playing
an assortment of war games and smoking, butts and ashes
on the floor and a sound level nearly equivalent to our
Goldwing escort.
Janet followed sometime later. That’s when someone stole
her expensive Olympus digital camera. Hardly seemed like
a fair trade for a free shower.
We set off again, nearly confident with a bike that was
now running on two cylinders, until I tried to start it.
No matter what I tried to do, no go. The driveway to the
hotel was a downgrade—obviously it was there for a jump
start and start it did.
Each time I put on a new carb I had the same kind of
power problem. I started to wonder what was wrong with
my bike. Tamara didn’t have the problem and all the
carbs couldn’t be bad—or could they?
Enough fooling around playing master mechanic, it was
time to look for a real motorcycle mechanic. We drove
into the center of Jining. Too early for much to be open
so maybe we should stop and find breakfast. The central
square was alive with people, some doing Tai chi, others
in costume performing traditional dance as a part of
their early morning exercises and others just walking or
watching.
As soon as we stopped the inevitable throng began to
surround us with rapid fire questions in Chinese to
which Janet and I responded with, “Ting bu dong” (I
don’t understand) and their retort, almost always with a
chuckle, “Ah, bu dong” (Ah, dumb-shit foreigners). Then
the touching would start, which drives Tamara crazy.
They would kick the tires, check the springs under the
seat, feel the padding or press buttons, switches or
other bike parts. If our backs are turned, the Chinese
feel no compunction about mounting the bike to see how
it feels, twist the throttle and imagine riding such a
magnificent steed. Then someone notices the ‘Bomar”
engine (Chinese for BMW) and you can hear the ever
present “Aieee” which translates to “Wow”, “Ah” and
sometimes “Oh, my god” and there is a new round of
touching, grabbing, pushing and poking. Then there are
comments about Tamara’s size, my belly and Janet’s and
my age—not all flattering.
Then the police showed up. Fortunately, Dave speaks
Chinese and was able to tell them that we needed a
mechanic to fix a carburetor problem. “No problem! You
wait here and we will bring a mechanic to you” and off
they went.
One girl in the crowd stepped forward and in excellent
English said to Janet, “Where are you from?”
“Changchun.”
“Do you know Jack?”
“Do you mean ‘Big Jack?” In fact we did know the Jack
she was speaking about. Not bad for a 1 in 7,000,000
chance.
“Yes, he was my English teacher when I was in Changchun”
“Or do you mean this Jack?”
When I turned around she said,”I know you, do you
remember me?”
“Gee, I’m sorry I don’t, can you remind me?”
”I was your student at Changchun Book City, you
corrected my pronunciation, my name is Spring.”
Some of the crowd left but others came. Among them was a
rather officious woman, a member of the Foreign Affairs
Section of Public Security. “Your passport please.” Oh,
shit, here we go. I handed her my passport. Spring
interpreted.
“I want all passports.”
All passports were given to her; she studied them.
I will take them and make copies
“Janet, go with her and don’t let the passports out of
your sight
In the meantime, more people left and more people joined
the throng, more questions, more Aieees and still more
touching. However, with the passports safely back in
hand, a mechanic delivered via police van, the decision
to go to his shop was a welcome one and so we set off to
what we thought was salvation.
After more than an hour, some of it on the phone with
Frank in Beijing, a new crowd, more questions and more
poking we simply decided to head off to whatever
destination we could make in the half day remaining.
Wherever there was, we could regroup and make some
decisions.
There is a noticeable difference in terrain when one
enters Inner Mongolia. Gone are the miles of corn fields
and rice paddies which give space to gently rolling
hills showing a brilliant green in the afternoon sun.
The road gently rises and climbs slowly giving still
more space to herds of sheep and horses. This is the
Gobi desert in summer and this is where Tamara had her
second flat tire.
No great problem. The hydraulic jack easily lifted the
rear tire, four nuts to remove and the tire and wheel
roll out from under the fender. One of two spares is
then rolled into place, lifted and fitted into the gear,
four nuts replaced and we are on the road again.
Small 150cc Chinese bikes pass us laden with five sheep
each, bound I guess for market or at least slaughter.
The camera only captures the blurs of the passing
menagerie. But we do get wonderful footage of tired
villages with what appeared to be valiant attempts at
renewal. People with no work congregating around Chinese
chess boards and scraps of cardboard upon which they
slap cards from their hands with shouts of elation or
defeat. Sometimes they just stand or sit or sleep in the
shade or on the dirt. This is a very different China
from the city that was our home for so long.
Then my rear tire went flat and we all had a laugh about
the chances of three flats in fewer than 600 Kms. Repeat
the process and off we went. About fifty km fro Erenhot,
now about 9:30pm I could feel the rear tire going flat
again. Impossible! But there it was, absolutely flat.
Repeat the process yet again. Now the novelty had worn
off. It was late and very dark. Fortunately I had
purchases a Petzl (LED) head lamp that illuminated my
work area and made the task much less daunting.
I made sure I was on an incline so I could jump start
the bike—again. When I pulled up along side Tamara she
went to start her bike with the lights on and the master
fuse blew immediately. “We’re camping here!” But soon
cooler heads prevailed and the ingenuity came to light.
Tamara had a similar head lamp that she mounted on the
headlight. Dave, using a rechargeable flashlight and
between them both they could illuminate the road just
enough to safely travel at about 40 kph (about 25 mph)
with me in the lead running the bike in third, sometimes
in second, gear at a high enough rpm that prevented the
engine from stalling.
We could see the lights of Erenhot ahead; maybe we would
make it after all. Soon we could see cars running
perpendicular to our route so there was a road into town
reasonably close. That’s when the police waved us down.
I thought he said pull over to the right, the others
agree he said travel to the right. But we stopped Tamara
with her jury-rigged lighting system and me with an
engine I was afraid to shut down. As he walked towards
us he simply waved us on.
We did see a car that was totaled being towed. It seems
like a large truck had run over the car and the police
were looking for the truck that hit the car. They had no
interest in two limping motorcycles trying to get to
safety.
A cheap hotel was our sanctuary at 11:30pm that night.
Simple food and water for a quick bite before falling
onto a hard bed with questionable sheets. We were in
Erenhot, 10 Kms from the Mongolian border. Here we had a
contact that might be able to help us but that had to
wait.
The next morning, Tamara and Dave scouted the town. We
found a good hotel and have negotiated the rate, we
found an Internet bar and we thing we know where there
are restaurants. Revived, we set off to our new digs.
Zhang Shao Wie, a very good friend and my younger
Chinese brother, maintains an office in Erenhot for his
business in Mongolia. His manager, Guo Yun Hai, along
with an interpreter (Candy) contacted us at our new
hotel and delivered fruit and the offer of help with
anything, any time. “Yes, thank you; maybe in a day or
two when I know what I need.”
Then I sent an e-mail message to Jim in Mexico saying I
needed help. The next day I got Jim’s reply saying that
Frank would be on a train and should arrive in two days.
As an aside, I cannot tell you how much I appreciated
the response and support from this company and the
people associated with Frank’s Classic Sidecars. As it
turns out, Frank had to stand on a bus for more than
half the ride to Erenhot and then take a cab with some
others who were traveling here. This level of service is
unheard of in the west. For China it is unthinkable!
Yet, Frank showed up and has been working on the bikes
and has absolutely solved the problems we were having.
It’s raining today so we have to wait to finish some of
the work, a necessary spare part is coming from Beijing
by bus tomorrow morning and by the afternoon we will
either be waiting at the border for clearance or we will
be in Mongolia on our way to Ulaan Baator.
In retrospect, this first leg of the journey has either
been a disaster or an opportunity. Quite honestly I
would rather see the positive side of what we have
accomplished. Yes, we have lost valuable time and that
could substantially impact the validity dates of our
Russian visa. But beyond that we have met significant
problems and with the help of good people, our own
creativity and problem solving skills we did meet the
first challenge. We have learned the gospel of
carburetor maintenance and thus have become a bit more
independent.
There were times when we all questioned the wisdom of
this dumb-ass idea but I think that for every kilometer
we travel we will learn more about ourselves and the
gospels according to Chang Jiang, BMW and maybe even
electrical systems.
On the road,
Jack and Janet
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