I was out on a ride with my buddy Chris and a couple of his fellow travelers the other day when we ran
across one of those happenstance encounters that make your head spin when you
think about it.
It was the day after the Isle
of Vashon TT, a sunny day in late September of 2013, and Jim, who rode Chris’ hooligan
bike, a Triumph Speed Triple with a Daytona motor, was due to fly back to
Florida the next day. People are starting
to come in from around the country for the TT these days. The other Al dug out his ’70 Bonneville for
the ride, I was on my FXRS, and Chris was on his Vincent Black Shadow.
So we wound up near the top
of Chinook Pass, where we took a lunch break near that long parking strip on
the left side just before you get to the top.
There is an informal trail through the mountain meadow that leads to a
rock formation by a stream that has earned the name Chris’ Rock. As we unpacked, stripped off riding gear and
pulled out our lunches, I saw a rider coming down the hill toward us. He pulled in and parked. I wandered over and checked out his bike, a
BMW 1150GS P-D model that looked like it had been around the world twice. “Where you from?” I asked.
His name turned out to be Mat.
“France”, he said. I said, “Cool,
did you have your bike shipped to New York?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I left France
three and a half years ago, heading east!
I came into the US from Canada and to Canada by boat from Russia.” We had stumbled upon a world traveler, and
the kid looked to be in his late 20s. He
represented every biker’s vicarious dream standing there in a worn
Aerostich. We invited him to lunch with
us.
It turned out he was living
on tuna fish and old bread these days, because he was running low on money and his
final drive unit was failing, again. He
had been on Highway 97 in Yakima when he realized he had to repair it, and was
heading back over the pass to try to make it as far as the Seattle BMW dealer
when he made that fated stop in the parking lot.
At that point, this was the
situation Mat was in: He was running
out of money, using his GPS to guide him into a strange town he had never
visited in hopes of finding the parts to patch his final drive one more time, a
place to work on the bike, and somewhere to stay. He did what bikers always do on the road,
see another group and pull in next to them, get off and stretch, say hi, admire
all the bikes.
Mat himself is this
amazing personality, open and friendly, self-deprecating and charming, even in his
broken English. He came off to this
bunch of old-timers as a true saddle tramp, so of course we took him in.
The group escorted him to
Chris’ house, which would be the center of operations for the next 5
days. Chris put him up in the spare room
and cleared a bike off the work stand to make room for the BMW. The next day, Mat and Chris tore the
final drive apart, and verified his worst fears about the bearings and
u-joints. They were toast. I brought over some pulling equipment, and we
disassembled everything, then Mat and I jumped in my truck and headed for
the BMW dealer on Lake City Way and 15th NE in Seattle in the middle
of rush hour.
I found an ad in Craigslist
for some different BMW parts, and called that guy. He heard the story, and gave me the name of
one of the mechanics at that same BMW dealer.
So at the dealer, we talked to that guy, whose name we do not
forget. He showed us what can happen
when the biker community pulls together to help one of their own. He spent the rest of his shift, and much of
his evening, helping Mat get the parts he needed, even going so far as to
notice that one bearing we picked up was the wrong one, and met us in Renton on
his way home to swap the bearings!
Everybody who heard the story, and met Mat, wanted to jump in and
help. From the sounds of it, this had
been happening to him everywhere he went.
He got back on the road the
following Sunday, heading south. I have
had one email from him so far, indicating he found a refuge in a hippy commune
in the backwoods of southern Oregon, but that the wild geese were calling, and
Guatemala sounded like a nice place to visit on your way to Terra Del
Fuego. Off he will go, a true wandering
blithe spirit, and we wish him all the best.
His full name is Matthieu Hammelburg, he’s on Facebook as Mat Ham, and
if he passes your way, tip your helmet to a man who is doing what you read
about, thought about, maybe even dreamed about, but never quite actually went
out and did. More power to him. :-{)}
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