“People like to hear the bad stuff. No one wants to hear that my flight left on time, my seat was the one I wanted, I liked the meal and my baggage turned up.”
-- Tony Wheeler, founder of Lonely Planet

“Lisa, it’s Kerri Miller. I’m OK, but my bike might not be.”

If you’re going to call the rally master for any reason, but especially before their morning coffee, it’s always a good idea to start off the conversation by letting them know you’re safe. I can’t imagine the burden of hearing that phone ring, and having to pick up, wondering if it’s someone who can’t find the bonus that they’re standing in front of, or if it’s a call from the emergency room. Take a half-second and lower their blood pressure from the start.

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As I rolled up the entrance ramp back onto I-90, I looked at the prairie grass growing shoulder high right up to the edge of the pavement, and I thought “man… this is deer country, for sure.” I was looking forward to stopping in Gillette, WY for breakfast and possibly a couple hours nap to get me across the plains, but this felt like dangerous territory, so despite my longing for a breakfast sandwich, a cup of coffee, and some shuteye, I kept my speed down to 55mph and my head on a swivel, watching for wildlife. My lights flickered across the tall grass, the stalks an effective barrier, so flimsy and easy to part, but impenetrable to vision.

That’s when I saw it.

“No no no no no YOU STUPID–”

The motorcyclist who travels at night has a litany of close-calls, pucker moments, “oh shit” swerves.. but when it comes down to it, until you actually hit a deer, you don’t really think it will happen to you. You’re unprepared for the physical jolt, the sickening thud as a brown kamikaze ungulate launches itself from the side of the road, across 2 lanes of blacktop, on a suicidal mission to unalive itself under the wheels of your machine.

The deer was, thankfully, a smaller white-tail doe. I braked, desperately scrubbing speed, and realizing that I was going to slam into ~100 pounds of venison, I instinctively leaned into it, tipping the bike to the right, like a linebacker dropping a shoulder before a sack. The deer struck the front right crash guard, it’s rear spinning up and slamming into my motojug and right-hand pannier, tumbling away behind me in the darkness. The bike wobbled violently, the front-end slapping back and forth wildly. I let my arms go limp, heart in my throat, knowing there was nothing I could do, and trying to steer out of this was just going to make things worse. Oddly, my dirt skills surfaced, and a scrap of memory from an afternoon on the range and an instructor saying “it’s going to do what it’s going to do - let it” came to mind as I held my breath.

It was only a second or two, but it felt like eternity for the bike to smooth it’s death wobble, and continue humming down I-90 as if nothing happened. Adrenaline raced through my veins, and I took stock. The bike was running, no weird sounds. I was going 40mph. Both panniers were attached still. I was fine, although I flagged that my right foot had been hit and while it didn’t yet hurt, I knew it would as soon as the adrenaline crashed out. I was fine, bike was fine… was it? It looked like my right-hand aux light was shining directly to the right, probably knocked askew. I flipped through the diagnostic screens - oil was fine, temp was fine… shit, did I just escape a deer strike relatively unscathed? The first of the Gillette exits was up ahead, there’s a McDonalds there that should be opening soon, I’ll pull in and assess the damage.

All in all, not too bad. My water jug was dented pretty badly, and my pannier and racks torqued and bent, but those are “sacrificial” by design, and were still firmly mounted.

Years ago, I read a book about airline pilots and their walk-around checklists, which include a line item to the effect of “does this look like an airplane?” so I stepped back for a wider view.

Uh… why is my bike leaking?

It looks like the deer took out the radiator guard; the fins themselves are intact, but the impact bent the mounting bracket at the bottom of the radiator. This wouldn’t be a problem, except that the bracket is molded into the return reservoir, and in the process of bending opened up a 2-inch crack, letting coolant escape.

So no problem, it’s a small crack, so if that’s the only issue I could probably patch it with some JB Weld (2-part cold epoxy) which I’ve got in my emergency kit, and can… wait. Shit. I used that at the start to help someone patch up their engine. Time for Plan B!

There was surely an auto parts or hardware store somewhere in this town. There was nothing at this exit but fast food and chain hotels, but at the next one a mile down was a Flying J and a Walmart (there’s always a Walmart somewhere!) and either of those would probably carry it. The bike hadn’t complained about coolant temp, and it was only a mile, so I rolled the dice that I could make it the mile, even if I had to coast. I switched the display to show me engine temp and headed out. The bike started complaining as soon as I accelerated up the ramp, but as soon as I got up to speed the temp stabilized, but still in the yellow zone. Quickly I rolled off the next exit, through a lucky green light, and into the parking lot, shutting off the engine and coasting into an out of the way parking spot.

Adrenaline was wearing off at this point, and I realized I was either going to DNF here or be severely delayed. I decided that it was probably appropriate to let Lisa know, so I gave her a quick call to fill her in on the situation, and assured her I had a plan (of sorts) and would update her if I needed a bat signal for additional help.

Since Walmart wouldn’t open for an hour or two, I wandered around the truck stop for a bit, not finding anything that would help, but I did take the opportunity to restock travel supplies. I killed time sending out text messages and doing some research, and walked over to the Walmart parking lot, hanging around outside until they opened at 6am; you haven’t lived, truly, until you’re the first person in the door at a Walmart!

I beelined to the automotive section and found JB Weld, and while I was at it, I grabbed coolant that I thought might work with the bike, as well as some clean up supplies. I got a text message from a friend who was watching my tracker, saying “Uh-oh.. you’re wandering around a Walmart… is everything ok?” A short phone call, and they offered to come to Gillette with a trailer if me and the bike needed an extraction, but we both agreed that my plan might work and we should give it a chance.

Supplies in hand, I headed back to the bike. I mixed up the JB Weld, slathered it on, and set an alarm on my phone; it would be a 4 or 5 hours until it set up, so I had plenty of time for breakfast.. and maybe a nap. I also took a moment to call Rally HQ to let them know I had a plan and probably didn’t need help sourcing any local assistance at this time.

I also noticed that the fan that draws air through the radiator while the bike is stopped had broken off it’s mount, not leaving enough structure behind to cobble together a remounting solution.. but as long as the bike was moving, enough air should be forced through the radiator. I might have some issues while stopped, but if I kept the bike moving, I might be ok. I unplugged the fan and the aux light with the broken mount, stowing them in my panniers. I then used a couple dozen zip ties and bit of Gorilla tape to secure the broken plastics as best I could. There wasn’t much I could do now but wait.

Feeling somewhat uninspired and not wanting to go too far away from the bike, I went back into the truck stop and spoke to the manager, letting him know “hey, doing a little repair on the bike, it’ll be here a few hours, so will I, here’s my number if someone complains” etc - trying to be a good neighbor, I guess. He just smiled, saying I wasn’t the first person to do some parking lot mechanics work there, and he’d keep an eye out as best he could. I meandered to the Taco John’s next door, empty at 7:30am, ordering up a somewhat boring breakfast burrito and iced tea, taking a quick 5-10 minute snooze in a booth. I took advantage of the AC to make my final call-in bonus of the rally.

67) CALL4 - Leg 3 Call-In Bonus 2 - 1,000 pts

9:29 EDT

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Points scored:

78,924

The next few hours were pretty uneventful. There was a small cluster of scrawny trees next to the 75’ sign on the corner, right by where the highway exit joined the surface streets. They provided some shade for a wobbly picnic table, and it was there I set up, took off my gear, did some paperwork, charged up the phone, and settled in to wait for the blob of JB Weld to slowly cure.

At one point, I laid down and took a nap for an hour or so, until I was woken up by a local sheriff’s deputy doing a wellness check. While not unusual (nor resented!) to have law enforcement make sure I’m ok while taking a nap, this turn out to be a welcome interruption, as the deputy was an IBA member, and had been following the rally! When he spotted what looked like a rally bike, he checked the anonymized rider location map on Spotwalla, saw that the bike (and rider) had been parked here for a few hours, and wanted to make sure I was safe and secure. I shared the story of the deer strike and my repair efforts, and he took a look at both the damage and my repairs. and nodded approvingly. We shook hands, and he gave me his phone number in case I needed anything; yet again I was surprised at the generosity of the long-distance community.

I’d sent photos to some BMW folks to see what they thought of my repairs and whether or not I could continue, and everyone said “give it a try.” I exchanged texts with Gary Huff, who had struck a deer with his BMW RT somewhere in Montana during the 2021 IBR and rode it back to the finish without active cooling, and between his experience and what I could gather from the internet, the general consensus was that my hunch was correct – as long as you could keep the bike moving > 20mph, you’d get enough airflow to make up for the missing fan, damaged fins, and the coolant loss. I splashed a little coolant in to bring the level up to at least the minimum, and hoped it would suffice.

I wanted to give the JB Weld plenty of time to cure, but 5 hours was all I had patience for. I fired up the bike and held my breath, riding it back and forth around the parking lots, watching the temp rise every time I stopped or slowed. I had no idea if this was going to work, but the JB Weld appeared to be holding, and the bike wasn’t leaking, so I figured I might as well give it a shot. After 7 hours of hanging around this Flying J truck stop, I was more than ready to get rolling!

I eased back onto the highway, and what a beautiful day it was; brilliant blue sky, white puffy clouds. I kept an eye on the temperature and played around with speed and RPMs, finding that the bike was staying plenty cool as I rolled through the last bit of Wyoming. Soon enough I-90 was curving around the northern edge of the Black Hills, and I passed through Sturgis, which I had set as my bail-out spot if things didn’t feel right; I might be on a BMW, but Sturgis would have enough motorcycle shops and services to sort me out if I needed to stop.

Those gorgeous sunny skies were about to come to an end. As I passed Sturgis, I got a weather alert on the phone - severe thunderstorm warnings. Checking the radar, a mid-size storm was moving quickly from the north, angling southeasterly, and would intercept me around Rapid City. The wind was already starting to kick up a bit, It being more or less lunch time, it seemed like a good time to stop and take stock, so I pulled into a Perkins, ordered an ice tea and a big salad, and pondered.

The bike was running fine, although it would rapidly overheat anytime I stopped. I wasn’t entirely sure the repair would hold, but I wasn’t sure if I should push the bike and continue with my rally plan. I had enough time to easily get back to Pittsburgh if I headed straight there on I-90, and enough points to be a finisher. Cutting out so many bonuses would mean a much lower position, but at least I’d finish. I decided to err on the side of caution, plotting a more or less direct route to the finish. MY rally might be “over”, but I still had a fair bit of riding to do!

I called a few people to update them on the status of both the bike and myself, and sat back in the sticky vinyl booth, watching the storm send thudding gusts of rain and wind across the parking lot. The storm had slowed and turned to the east, it’s southern edge tracking along I-90, dropping near-continual lightning strikes as it went. I could easily outrun it, but first I’d have to punch through it. Unless…. yes, if I routed south along SD-44, I could pop back up north to I-90 through the eastern end of Badlands National Park, getting ahead of the storm. I had plenty of time now, so why not do some flower-sniffin’?

Zipping along, I kept flipping back to the weather radar.. the storm was continuing to track perfectly along I-90, and I got ahead of it with ease. Dipping into the park, I got stopped a couple times waiting on construction zones. Come to a stop, turn off the bike no matter how long it looks like I’ll be held for to stop it overheating, fire it back up. It’s a cycle that I would refine over the rest of the ride. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The rest of the day was smooth-sailing, just putt-putting across South Dakota. Shortly before 8pm, I stopped at the rest area overlooking Chamberlin, SD, visiting the Dignity statue, and realized how tired I was; the overnight, the drama of the repairs, the stress of watching the temperature gauge all day, it was finally getting to me. I booked a hotel in Mitchell, SD, about an hour down the road, and dreamed of a roast beef and a shake from the Arby’s next door. Once at the hotel, I checked the repair job on the radiator. It looked fine, but in the name of “can’t hurt” I slapped an additional layer of the JB Weld on, knowing I’d have time overnight for it to cure. I grabbed dinner from Arby’s, and soon my head was on a soft pillow, and I fell deeply asleep, relaxing for the first time in over 48 hours.