Wow thats great, I try to be a good guy and pay it forward and all, but I think that might be a little more faith in humanity than I am willing to extend at this time... well maybe with one of my loaner bikes but not with my personal ride.
However once a similar experience happened to me that I will never forget. I was 21 years old, and on the return of a cross country trip (DC-CA and back) on my 85 GV1200. Previously, on the way out, a great big American flag which I was trailing behind the bike feeling like Easy rider and all had gotten sucked into the rear caliper, melted, and I had to disassemble the whole thing by the side of the road just to free up the rear wheel. Anyways it was hot in Nevada and I neglected to re-install a cotter pin out of haste.
Fast forward 500 miles, I had made it to Cali and was coming back through Arizona when the bike developed a wobble. I stopped but couldn't find anything wrong. As I continued to ride it got worse. Soon I was in a construction corridor on the interstate, no shoulder or turnoffs for 12 miles. The bike was almost uncontrollable. I was obviously very concerned. So as soon as I was able, I pulled into a gas station as I approached Tuscon, as soon as the bike rolled to a stop, the rear end sunk down about 8 inches, and the tire exploded.
Apparently the missing cotter pin had allowed for the loosening of the rear brake caliper stabilizing bar nut. This allowed the wheel to swish and sway back and forth, loosening the axle nut. With the swishing of the wheel, the spokes started to break. As soon as I stopped in the gas station, the centrifugal force was halted, placing too much weight on the remaining spokes. They broke, sending the broken ends into the inner tube, exploding it.
So there I was, about 2500 miles from home, a completely destroyed wheel, and no idea what to do. Already I was on a shoestring budget, sleeping in a tent under overpasses, crackers and granola for meals, etc. The thought of leaving my pride and joy behind and getting a Greyhound ticket absolutely sickened me. I was emotional and frustrated at my own stupidity, scared and alone in the world, and I won't deny that I sat down on the curb and started blubbering like an idiot.
Just at that moment, a middle-aged couple drove by and asked me what was the matter. I stammered out the details of my sad story, and to my surprise the wife went into the gas station to buy me a sandwich, while the husband drove home to get his trailer. He loaded my bike up on the trailer, and they took me back to their place. I ended up staying with them for 3 days while we tracked down a replacement wheel, for which he drove me to Phoenix (no small distance) to purchase. He even drove me back after I realized halfway that the junkyard had installed my old tire (which was still good) backwards. They furnished me with food and drink, and above all a way to get back on the road and to get home. They saved my bike which I still ride to this day throughout the year, almost 8 years later.
Unfortunately, in Virginia I was caught in a torrential downpour, everything I had was completely soaked including the paper with their contact information. It was another emotional moment when I unpacked all my gear and found the soggy runny wad of notebook paper that their number was written on. However if anyone knows a Fritz and Jenny who live in Tucson, tell them they saved my life big time.
