The longest day...again...part 1
"Ahndrew, do you see that leak in your rateeator fluid?" "What the hell?!!!!" "Yah, I saw it yesterday but didn't say anything." Thanks, Kenny. Holy crap, dried coolant covered the front left quadrant of Green's engine and transmission. This was definitely not good. We were supposed to meet our third riding partner in an hour at a town 50 miles away. Who knows what the roads would look like, and I've got a busted radiator. Kenny couldn't help have a small instance of pride, seeing the brand new BMW break down while his 25-year-old Honda had been faithful thus far. I checked the coolant reservoir level, and it had plenty of coolant. Hmmm...if it was leaking, that thing should be bone dry. But within minutes, I knew what had caused it. The prior morning, before we left Astrakhan, I'd taken a power washer to the radiator grill. All the bugs would surely clog it and kill the cooling capability, so, I gave it a quick squirt, very careful to not hit any delicate parts. But, I must have screwed it up and broken something. Damnit! So sorry, Green machine. I was a flurry of frustration and anxiety. I'd been looking forward to meeting Randy for weeks, and he'd held still for two days in Kazakhstan while we caught up to him. Hate to keep him waiting longer. So, for the next hour, Kenny and I blitzed east, and I frantically called family back home who would help me determine what kind of coolant is safe to put in this bike. I was at least two weeks away from being near a dealer that could repair the problem, and we were about to head into some amazingly vast deserts. Seems Kazakhstan is kind of like a black hole at this hour...not a single dealership is open at 9am local time. Australia BMW won't answer the phone, Germany and UK are still sleeping. Russia doesn't care to speak English. Ugh. Randy met us with a beautiful British grin. The dude is like 6'4" and his wingspan blocks out the sun, and he enveloped me at first sight. Such a warm character. He rides a 250cc Kawasaki dirt bike...I almost seems like he could put his feet down and push the thing along faster than it could propel itself. A random Belgian guy drove up as we got acquainted. "Yeah, I'm just going the most direct route. I don't think there are roads anywhere, so I'll just ride through the desert." I thought, "Man, that must be awesome. A compass and a map, tearing through the desert." I didn't realize that would soon inevitable. Marcela had tried in vain to call dealerships and help lines all over the world but to no avail, so we started to problem-solve the situation internally. The reservoir would be empty if there was a leak, and it couldn't self-seal...it would only get worse. It hadn't leaked this morning. The origin couldn't be pinpointed from the splatters. It was leaking on the same side where I first sprayed with the power washer. It was a fast blast...not a thorough beating. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't coolant on the engine...maybe it was soap residual residue left in the spray nozzle...
Problem solved. Let's ride. As I packed a few tools, so elated that the problem wasn't actually a problem at all, the group wanted a photo, so I dropped what I was doing and joined them. Unfortunately, I left my keys inserted in one of the luggage boxes...just close enough for the proximity key to engage and make me think it was in my pocket...but far enough to the rear that I wouldn't hear later the jingling sound before they fell somewhere along the roadway.
(Searched for keys dropped somewhere along 30km of roadway like this)
We spent two hours searching for those keys. I even had the "Tile" Bluetooth tracker device attached and relied upon it to zero in on the keys. Remember when I lost my wallet on Day 1? Yeah, I learned my lesson. As for the keys, we never found them. I pulled the spare "wallet key" from my jacket pocket. This was it...lose this thing, and the trip comes grinding to a halt. And every time I want to start the bike, I have to strenuously put the wallet key far up and under the back fender with one hand while reaching far up to the instrument panel to turn on the ignition with the other. Painfully awkward and annoying...and also dangerous in some situations. After finally giving up the search, I got Kenny and Randy lost in the tiny town of Makat. Roads didn't go through. Google and Garmin gave me conflicting guidance. I was failing. Welcome to Kazakhstan, Andrew.
