Part Eight - The Big SnowIf you have read this story from the beginning you will recall that after getting my 1968 R60/2 in 1975 I started to hang out with a group of BMW riders who I've dubbed the Washington Area Beemer, Beer, and Bullshit Bunch. The group never had a real name, or a charter, or anything like that. We just got together every Thursday night to talk about Beemers and drink beer. When I joined this merry band I was living in Washington, D.C. On Thursdays I'd ride out to the Chevy Chase Maryland home of my friend Bob's and we would ride out together to the appointed meeting place; either Takoma Park or Gaithersburg. Bob introduced me to a short but delightful, twisty, stretch of urban pavement called Sligo Creek Parkway which we traversed on our way to Takoma Park where the group met on alternate weeks at Ed Sweeny's place under the three-foot diameter BMW logo he had on his garage. When my first marriage self destructed in 1978 and I needed a place to live I remembered how it as always about 10 degrees cooler when we dropped down into Sligo Creek so looked around and found an apartment overlooking the creek. As it turned out my apartment was only about 1/2 mile from our Takoma Park meeting place. There was a huge snowstorm in Washington in February 1979 and I found myself riding home in the afternoon on my R60/2 in a rapidly increasing covering of wet sticky snow. The old Beemers have large fenders which encompass the wheel and my front fender started filling up with snow and jamming the front wheel. The first couple of times this happened I was able to clear it, but finally about 1/2 a mile from home it jammed solid and wouldn't budge. Normally the Takoma Park Police were a pretty humorless bunch, but the two who stopped to see why I was stalled were pretty amused by my plight. I asked them for a couple of flares to try to melt the snow and they willingly obliged. The flares had little effect so I left them to mark the bike and trudged to a friend's house. I couldn't leave the bike there because it would soon be rendered invisible by the falling snow and probably be hit by a snowplow. I'm an ENTP so a solution immediately popped into my mind -- I would equip my immobilized front wheel with a ski, converting the bike into the first and maybe only BMW snowmobile. Armed with a piece of plywood and a couple of coat hangers I returned the bike and fabricated the ski. By this time there was about 6 inches of snow on the ground everywhere and the snowplow had not yet reached the Parkway. About the time I was ready to launch my new invention the same two Takoma Park cops returned. Fortunately they were still amused and they gave me their blessing to slide on out of there. My jury-rigged ski did not track very well so the last 1/2 mile was pretty tedious. But I finally managed to make it to my turn off and halfway up the hill to my apartment building before bagging it and parking. The next morning when I went out the only thing visible from under a four foot snow drift was the tip of the windscreen. Over 24 inches of snow had fallen in the preceding 24 hours and the city was immobilized. I dug the bike out and being the adventurous type trudged over to Ed's house in snow that was drifted waist deep in places to borrow a propane torch and set of tire chains. Ed had run sidecars on his bikes for years, year-round, and had several sets of original equipment tire chains designed for the /2s. I returned home, thawed out the front wheel with the torch, and installed the chains. As usual my beastie started right away and I hit the road, or rather where the road used to be. The only vehicles moving at the time were snowmobiles, the snowplows, and some fool on a big black motorcycle. I didn't just joy ride. Most people had been caught unprepared by the snow and were trudging on foot to the supermarkets for basic provisions. I set-up a shuttle service for those that were willing to ride. After a few hours the plows and other 4WD vehicles had packed the snow down and I developed two basic riding styles; go slow with the feet on the pegs, or go fast with my feet sliding on the snow covered pavement like outriggers. I had great fun until I got a flat when I hit a patch of dry pavement and the change in traction broke the tire loose rim the rim, pulling the valve out of the tube. There is a footnote to this story. Several weeks later I was riding up North Capitol street at 4 AM doing about 50 mph when the back wheel started to go down and the bike started to fishtail. I'd been commuting for weeks on the icy and snow packed streets which were the legacy of the big storm so I instinctively countersteered and slowed down. Fortunately by the time the tire went down all the way and the bike went with it I was only doing about 20 mph. The bike and I parted ways. I had a snowmobile suit, mittens, a full face helmet and oversize boots with extra socks so I only suffered a stubbed toe. The bike didn't fair badly either. It had spun around a few times on the left cylinder and the windscreen had broken, but other than the flat there was no damage. I wasn't exactly were you could catch a cab or leave a motorcycle, and there was practically no traffic, so I decided to ride the remaining 5 miles on the flat. I knew it would ruin the tire, but it was worn out anyway. The combination of low speed power and a low center of gravity made the bike manageable and I was able to chug along in first gear at about 5 mph, up North Capitol and out New Hampshire Avenue. I felt relief as I descended the long hill toward the Sligo CreeK Parkway turn-off. I was in the right lane of and had to cross two lanes to turn left. I looked up the hill and saw only one car way at the top, so I made the turn. Unfortunately that car was a Takoma Park Police patrol car which flipped on its lights and pulled me over. At first the officers seemed inclined to read me the riot act. Then one of them said, "Aren't you that guy with the ski we gave the flares?" "Guilty as charged." I replied. He then turned to his partner and said, "This guy is OK, let's help him get home." So the patrol car followed me the remaining 1/4 of a mile to my place as I wobbled on my flat tire. Epilogue: I rode my R60/2 for another year or so but finally sold it because repair parts were too expensive and it was too difficult to keep running. I sold my R50/2 to Ed for $200, in part as payback in a way for saving my butt up in Canada, plus all of his help over the years.  I was without a bike for
about a year, but then bought a used Honda SilverWing Interstate.
I liked that bike almost as much as my Beemer. My Silverwing is
now in Lumbumbashi, Zaire by way of Johannesburg, but that's another story...
I hope you enjoyed my Beemer Tales. If so, please drop me a line. This story was originally posted to rec.motorcycle in June 1995. Since adding it to my home page I've received dozens e-mail from Beemer owners, including an invitation from the Nova Scotia BMW Owners Assn. to join them on their 1996 Cabot Trail Run. 
September 2001 There will new chapters to be added in the future, as I've recently purchased used, but like new, K1200LT. [ Title Page] |
