Back to Anchorage July 31

The train ride back to Anchorage was really nice. The girls got to run around and my wife and I got to visit. We snapped few more photos of the mountains, rivers and marshlands. The only problem was at the very end of the trip a sad accident forced the train to stop about 40 minutes outside of Anchorage. The train track runs next to the Air force Base runway. A huge cargo jet missed the runway and hit the train tracks instead. All four men flying the plane were all killed in the crash. The railroad track was damaged and the plane wreckage blocked the tracks. So we were off loaded on to buses and driven to the train station.

Once off the bus, we took a taxi to the hotel. We checked into the hotel and I got the shuttle to drive me to the pay parking lot to pickup my bike. I actually caught myself smiling when I saw it in the lot. Granted, I was worried that it might have been stolen. I have to admit that it was almost like seeing a family member. This is weird I thought and the roller coaster ride continuous.

I removed the cover and hit the starter button. It was totally dead, no lights or anything. This family reunion is starting to make me feel panic. Like an uncle that burns the house down while smoking in bed or runs your car out of oil. The only thing I could think of was “This Blows”. So, I am in Alaska, in a pay parking lot with a dead battery. I spent about 5 minutes wiggling wires and turning the key on and off. This was fun but I wasn’t getting any closer to the hotel. I spotted some people about 3 blocks away. I walked over and found an old Vietnam Vet in a van. I explain my situation and was relieved to find out that he had a set of jumper cables and he would help me. So I ran back to the bike and started pushing it. Since I was in a pay parking lot, it cost me 60 bucks to get it out. Now this bike is feeling like an uncle that I just had to bail out of jail. FYI, a 1200 cc bike doesn’t push worth a damn.

I got the bike over to the guy and by now he was starting to really open up to me. He explains to me that he makes spiders. Yeah, WOW, spiders. So of course he wants to show me one of them. He produces from his silver spray painted 1980 Van a spider made from two bolts and 8 pieces of wire. I showered him with compliments on the design and craftsmanship. So of course he had to tell me his process. You know, it’s amazing to me just how interested you can act about two 5/8 nuts and eight pieces of coat hanger welded together when you really need help. Having a motorcycle is hard on me, the feelings of being betrayed, plus having to manipulate total strangers just to get back on the road.

Thank god it started right up. I was so relieved, then the thought sprang to mind that I should buy one of his spiders. Just as I was about to say something I realized that I was going to have to figure out how to strap a 10 inch spider on to my bike and drive all the way back home. This sounded too goofy even for me - I mean this thing was yard art. I might as well by gnome or a birdbath and strap it on to the bike. Suddenly, the image of the guy in the parade with the monkey suit flashed into my mind. I wondered if this was a gateway moment. Perhaps, the monkey bike rider started off normal and then sometime like this set him on the wrong path. A little voice in my head said “No this is wrong”. So I gave him 10 bucks and headed back to the hotel.