Clutch

When a simple motorcycle part like a clutch cable goes missing or breaks the fix is relatively easy. Or is it? Saturday July 14, 2007 after driving over 150 miles in soul pounding rain we arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica just after 4:00 pm. Soaking wet we are doing our best to navigate through heavy traffic while looking for a hotel. After stopping at several possible locations we realize finding a hotel with parking this far in the city is near impossible. So we decide to head towards the edge of town. I jump on my motorcycle, turn the key, hit the starter, and down shift only to have my motorcycle leap forward and cut out.

The tension on my clutch lever is gone, Ryan looks at me, and in a sarcastic tone asks, “You ok?” wondering if I had forgotten how to drive. I respond, “My clutch cable just broke.” We are both upset yet neither one of us is surprised, I am far over due for some bad luck. Spotting a parking lot behind us we decide to push my bike into oncoming traffic on a one-way street, and against the odds we make it with no problems. After we get the motorcycle situated to be worked on, the parking lot attendant comes over to see what the problem is. He informs us all the shops close at 3:00 pm on Saturdays and nothing will be open until Monday.

I felt like giving up, parking the bike, and paying over $100 to leave it there for the weekend. Then it hits me, I need a bicycle or at least a bicycle store. I am in luck there is one less than a block away. I pull the broken cable and head up the road to buy a temporary replacement. The shop owner has what I need, or at least what will work for now. The bicycle cable is slightly thinner than the original, but hopefully it will do the job. Back at the parking lot I open up my tool kit and get to work, 45 minutes later I have the worst looking fixit job ever, and a working clutch. When we are ready to leave the attendant refuses any money, and wishes us a safe trip.

Once we find the hotel, it takes us 5 minutes to completely destroy the room. Motorcycle luggage covers the floor, and wet clothes hang from the walls dripping puddles onto the tile. We dump the water out of our boots and wring out our socks, trying to get ready for our next day of riding.

--Mitch