The Exxon Valdez 11 million gallon oil spill came to mind seeing Sammy’s shiny, slick rear tire. Dots of oil were landing on my wind shield helping me keep a safe but watchful distance. Oil is like ice between the rubber holding you up and the unforgivingly hard asphalt whizzing by. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy though. His composure was inspiring through so much strange adversity in the Big Bend desert.
Like a ticking bomb, some problems in life are waiting for just the right combination of circumstances. Through no fault of our own, stuff happens. Only this time, fate ran into the patience of Job when it came to our friend Sammy.
Cresting the rocky mountain bluff on Ross Maxwell Scenic drive in Big Bend, the Sotol Vista overlook entrance appears suddenly on the left. It’s easy to miss and that’s what happened to Sammy who had to ride further down the road attempting to make a U turn. Wrangling U turns on a narrow road astride a BMW touring bike is hard no matter how much cowboy experience you have. Taking in the panoramic view, we caught up with Sammy and his bike by the side of the road. Having fallen on its left side, the German motor was now leaking oil. This is not a good sign when the nearest BMW dealership is 428 miles away.
Limping down to the Cottonwoods outpost near St. Elena Canyon on the Rio Grande, we sought shade and perspective on the situation. Deciding to call Mike the sage at our local BMW dealer, we stood on a picnic table to get a cell signal. Doing a dance to keep the signal, we were told this was temporary since oil got into places it shouldn’t have and will sort itself out. Except it didn’t. We had to keep pouring oil in before it leaked out and seized up the motor. That is a bad thing that instantly turns your German motorcycle into an expensive paper weight.
You have to realize that for bikers, this is more than a mechanical issue. There’s the impression you make by falling off the bike. Even among friends there is a certain embarrassment. I feel it because I’ve done it more than a few times. Doubling down, Sammy dropped his bike again backing away from the Terlingua hitching post in full view of the locals on the porch. Sitting on our running bikes we just stared while stunned until we realized, “Hey, we’ve got to help out our friend.” What were we thinking?
Then there’s injury to your pride of owning such a prestigious brand. It’s not the experience buyers have in mind. This came into glaring light during a stop at Coopers, a famed BBQ joint in Llano on the way back to Austin. The place is popular so you stand in line outside to get your meat before going inside. Having our riding gear on, a young boy comes up, and asks, “Whose BMW is parked over there?” pointing out our bikes. When Sammy admits ownership, the boy in a loud, helpful voice says, “Well, there’s a big puddle of oil under it.” Normally, this would not be a problem except that Coopers is frequently mainly by Harley Davidson riders, some of whom are particularly proud of their brand. The Germans would not be proud.
It gets better. Sammy lives in Amarillo, TX so he transports the bike all the way to Dallas to get it fixed leaving it there for weeks. Whomever installed the crash bars bolted them on wrong so instead of protecting the engine, they punched a hole in it on the first tip over. We were blessed to get it back home. In the end, Sammy makes two trips to Dallas to finally get the bike solid with essentially a new motor. All good.
If you’ve made it this far, I hope you can see the full picture of adversity in this story for a biker. Sammy took it all in stride. He’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Easy going, he always brought a Texas panhandle kind of generosity with him over several trips through the years. He’s the first to buy dinner, drive his truck into town for supplies and share his fine cigars.
When someone of this kindness meets adversity, what are fellow riders supposed to do? Add more of course.
With his repaired bike, Sammy joins us on another Big Bend trip the following year. We meet in Marathon at our favorite motel where you can park your bike right outside the rooms. Cowboys like to have their horses hitched nearby. We had a great first evening together reliving last year’s Valdez tale. Sammy and his bike were redeemed.
The next morning Randy and I are waiting for Sammy to get off a phone call before riding to breakfast in Alpine at Penny’s diner about 30 minutes away. Sitting in the room together I say to Randy, “You know what we have to do right?” Great riding partners think alike, so we quickly went outside and poured some spare oil under Sammy’s bike. We had to do it. Sammy can’t really be that nice all the time. Can he?
Getting ready to mount up, Randy points out the oil to Sammy who is stunned and speechless. I’m waiting for a bomb to go off, but it doesn’t. Hunger takes priority over oil spills so we head over to Alpine. Along the way, I’m imagining the cloud of thoughts riding above Sammy’s helmet. “Those guys in Dallas $#!!!” Or, “Not again…” That had to be a very long 30 minute ride.
Arriving at Penny’s, Randy dismounts and walks over to Sammy. At some point this kind of torture ceases to be therapeutic. There are limits, so Randy spills the prank like Captain Hazelwood of the Valdez. He (we) did it. Randy and Sammy have history which kept me calm while Sammy lunged at Randy’s throat to choke him. But this was just for show to let Randy and I know that we had not lost our edge when it comes to sharing this kind of love.
I’m thankful for people like Sammy who take things in stride. They remind us not to take ourselves so seriously. They use the oil of adversity take friction out of life’s tip overs. They don’t care what others think of their brand or oil slicks. They just keep giving and serving.
Job had his friends and so does Sammy. Like them, we just can’t keep quiet about him.