No time to think, we were already late for our 5:00am meeting at Perfect English for a last hug and goodbye to our staff and friends crazy enough to get up so early to see us off. After more than a year in planning, the pre-departure good byes, last business dinners and what seemed to be an endless round of planned and several unexpected TV and newspaper interviews, the morning of our departure arrived in a state of total confusion.July 29, 2006
After more than a year in planning, the pre-departure good byes, last business dinners and what seemed to be an endless round of planned and several unexpected TV and newspaper interviews, the morning of our departure arrived in a state of total confusion. All the planning went down the tubes because time that was supposed to be used for packing was taken up with other activities. So it was throw everything into bags, cart them downstairs and try to fit ten pounds of stuff into a one pound sidecar.

No time to think, we were already late for our 5:00am meeting at Perfect English for a last hug and goodbye to our staff and friends crazy enough to get up so early to see us off. Not enough time to really say goodbye, our 100+ motorcycle escort and cadre of press people were waiting at Culture Square for the planned departure.

Thankfully our engines started without pause, the lead press car moved out onto an empty Tong Zhi Street and we were off. The occasional taxi or private car pulling along side to gawk and wonder; then a left turn on Jia Feng Street and there was the mass of bikes, people and cars waiting for the start of The Dragin’ Run. As the bikes moved passed the crowd to the front of the pack where a space had been reserved for us there were cheers and applause. As soon as we stopped the mob moved in.

Our friends, the press and many of the Chinese bikers descended on us with last good byes, questions about the ride and will we miss Changchun, will we come back and how long will we be gone. Bikers trying to get into press photos and on TV, requests that we autograph the Dragin’ Run tee shirts we had printed for the bikers who would escort us out of town. Then it was time to leave.

The lead bikes were something like you might imagine coming from the movie Spaceballs! Mostly Honda Goldwings but with a twist. Each carried a sound system capable of deafening the audience of a large movie theater. Speakers mounted in metal support brackets reminiscent of a moon-lander. The speakers were enhanced with little doo dahs clamped, bolted or otherwise attached with the seemingly unique purpose of occupying space. On the front of the bikes were an assembly of horns, mirrors, more doo dahs and still other stuff. To supplement the magnificence of these machines were miles of plastic tubing housing LED lights that I am sure would frighten even the most avid UFO fan if first glimpsed at night.

But the most outstanding of the lead bikes was a large scooter, outfitted like the Goldwings but with an added structure that looked like a roll bar, going front to back, that supported an additional mile or so of tubing encased LED lights. Tamara mentioned that the only thing missing was the disco ball.

Behind us were the Chang Jiangs and finally the remaining bikes. The signal to start was given and the bikes powered up and moved off in a relatively orderly fashion. We continued along Jie Feng, through the FAW section of town and soon moved onto a street that would really take us out of Changchun, or so I thought.

Near the big meat processing plant we stopped for another series of photos. More autographs and more questions. Didn’t these people know we were anxious to get started? But then this is what I thought I wanted and I was stuck with it. Big smile, big wave, answer one more question and it was time to leave again. By now most of the bikes were falling off but our Goldwings and ‘Super Scooter’ were still with us.

Finally on our way to Siping where our escort would leave us and we could really be under way. The day was perfect, clear, still cool and the road was great. No pot holes, no construction and virtually no traffic and then the press car appeared once more. We were scheduled for one more stop in the town ahead.

A few more pictures and then the instruction, “Go to the sign, then turn around and wave.” Two small bikes, 150cc Chinese motorcycles, had decided to go all the way to Siping with us. Almost free.

After a good lunch with out escorts, our destination was Shenyang.

I hate driving in big cities, especially Chinese Cities. No only can’t we speak Chinese, we are and have been since our arrival, illiterate. Our only option is to find a cab and have him lead us to a hotel and the only hotel I have ever stayed at was the Holiday Inn—our first out of budget hotel but with a reason. I knew that parking would be relatively secure and Tamara’s rear tire had worn to the fabric and needed to be changed. I knew there would be space for this.

We have lived in China for nearly five years and I have driven a Chang Jiang for two years. Last April, Janet and I went to Beijing to pick up the bike after having the new BMW engine installed and rode it back to Changchun, albeit with some significant problems, but nevertheless we considered this as part of our shakedown run.

Tamara’s bike arrived in June, again with some minor problems but we knew that we would spend at least two days with Jim Bryant, Frank Li and Mr. Kong at Frank’s Classic Sidecars (one of our sponsors) getting the bikes ready for the Dragin’ Run. The run to Beijing was to be her break-in.

The short story is that she began to have carb problems withy the associated loss of power that one experiences when a carburetor is fouled with dirt. More significant was a malfunction in the transmission that effectively caused her to slip out of second and third gear almost as soon as she shifted.

On the second day I started to have a bit of trouble with my carbs and by the time we limped into Beijing I think everyone was wondering about the decision to ride a Chang, BMW powered or not around the world. At the same time I was confident that the crew at Frank’s Classic Sidecars would solve the problems. After all, they have built several bikes that have done long distance rides with few, if any, problems. We finally arrived in the early evening and managed to get a hotel and grab a Subway sandwich before calling it a night.

Over the next two days, the crew virtually disassembled the bike. One significant decision was to change transmissions. Get rid of the newer transmission with the reverse gear (it was really cool to back-up on the bike to the amazement of onlookers) for the more reliable and stronger old style transmission sans reverse. Carbs were tested and installed, all fluids were replaced, nothing was overlooked. The bikes were Mongolia ready!

We also met Roel Hendrix from Shanghai who was doing some work on his bike at the shop. Roel is kind of the mad scientist of Chang Jiangs. Not only has he rewired the bike with two batteries and a large inverter, rerouted his ignition and set up a security circuit to prevent easy theft by hot wiring. But his greatest achievement was to add a water heater by routing his left exhaust pipe through a stainless steel container with appropriate venting and a spicket from which he can make coffee as soon as he stops.

On Monday morning, with a full compliment of spare parts including four new carburetors, rear brake shoes and other assorted items that could fail, we set off. Jim was supposed to ride to Ulaan Baator with us but business demands dictated that he fly to Mexico on Sunday so Frank Li decided to ride with us just to be sure we were OK.

As soon as we started the climb over the mountains that surround Beijing, both Tamara and I began to experience power problems. Frank rode my bike, not too bad. Then he rode Tamara’s bike. Not sure so he rode it some more. By mid afternoon he changed one of Tamara’s carbs and from then on, no problems.

A small electrical problem had developed with Tam’s bike. Start the bike with the lights on and the main fuse would blow. We thought this problem had been resolved but here it was, back again. The next morning Frank took care of this and since both bikes were functioning well, we told Frank to go back to Beijing.

No sooner than Frank disappeared around the bend when my carbs started acting up. I was fine at higher RPM but at low revs I was in trouble. “Never mind, let’s push on until we stop for the night.”

By mid-afternoon I decided to change carbs. Pull over near an abandoned building, unpack the tools and get a new carb. The first carb leaked, the second carb leaked; in fact all the carbs leaked. I knew the problem; the float in the gas bowl would sometimes stick and had to be adjusted. Back to the original carb and find the next city with a hotel and work on the carbs.

Our hotel was a whorehouse attached to a public bath. The room had a western toilet and shower but no toilet paper (common) and no towels (also common I am told). “Where are the towels, we want a shower.” “Ah, no shower, here is a coupon for free use of the bathhouse.”

Many of the rooms were reserved for the bathhouse and the girls who worked there. Doors and windows are left open for ventilation. As Janet and I walked down the hall, I noticed two pair of very different feet on the bed; Janet saw the porn flic on the TV. No question about the activity or the purpose of the building.

We decided to spend another night and get an early start on the ride the next day. I had to get to an Internet bar and so did the others. All young Chinese men playing an assortment of war games and smoking, butts and ashes on the floor and a sound level nearly equivalent to our Goldwing escort.

Janet followed sometime later. That’s when someone stole her expensive Olympus digital camera. Hardly seemed like a fair trade for a free shower.

We set off again, nearly confident with a bike that was now running on two cylinders, until I tried to start it. No matter what I tried to do, no go. The driveway to the hotel was a downgrade—obviously it was there for a jump start and start it did.

Each time I put on a new carb I had the same kind of power problem. I started to wonder what was wrong with my bike. Tamara didn’t have the problem and all the carbs couldn’t be bad—or could they?

Enough fooling around playing master mechanic, it was time to look for a real motorcycle mechanic. We drove into the center of Jining. Too early for much to be open so maybe we should stop and find breakfast. The central square was alive with people, some doing Tai chi, others in costume performing traditional dance as a part of their early morning exercises and others just walking or watching.

As soon as we stopped the inevitable throng began to surround us with rapid fire questions in Chinese to which Janet and I responded with, “Ting bu dong” (I don’t understand) and their retort, almost always with a chuckle, “Ah, bu dong” (Ah, dumb-shit foreigners). Then the touching would start, which drives Tamara crazy. They would kick the tires, check the springs under the seat, feel the padding or press buttons, switches or other bike parts. If our backs are turned, the Chinese feel no compunction about mounting the bike to see how it feels, twist the throttle and imagine riding such a magnificent steed. Then someone notices the ‘Bomar” engine (Chinese for BMW) and you can hear the ever present “Aieee” which translates to “Wow”, “Ah” and sometimes “Oh, my god” and there is a new round of touching, grabbing, pushing and poking. Then there are comments about Tamara’s size, my belly and Janet’s and my age—not all flattering.

Then the police showed up. Fortunately, Dave speaks Chinese and was able to tell them that we needed a mechanic to fix a carburetor problem. “No problem! You wait here and we will bring a mechanic to you” and off they went.

One girl in the crowd stepped forward and in excellent English said to Janet, “Where are you from?”
“Changchun.”
“Do you know Jack?”
“Do you mean ‘Big Jack?” In fact we did know the Jack she was speaking about. Not bad for a 1 in 7,000,000 chance.
“Yes, he was my English teacher when I was in Changchun”
“Or do you mean this Jack?”
When I turned around she said, ”I know you, do you remember me?”
“Gee, I’m sorry I don’t, can you remind me?”
”I was your student at Changchun Book City, you corrected my pronunciation, my name is Spring.”

Some of the crowd left but others came. Among them was a rather officious woman, a member of the Foreign Affairs Section of Public Security. “Your passport please.” Oh, shit, here we go. I handed her my passport. Spring interpreted.
“I want all passports.”
All passports were given to her; she studied them.
I will take them and make copies
“Janet, go with her and don’t let the passports out of your sight

In the meantime, more people left and more people joined the throng, more questions, more Aieees and still more touching. However, with the passports safely back in hand, a mechanic delivered via police van, the decision to go to his shop was a welcome one and so we set off to what we thought was salvation.

After more than an hour, some of it on the phone with Frank in Beijing, a new crowd, more questions and more poking we simply decided to head off to whatever destination we could make in the half day remaining. Wherever there was, we could regroup and make some decisions.

There is a noticeable difference in terrain when one enters Inner Mongolia. Gone are the miles of corn fields and rice paddies which give space to gently rolling hills showing a brilliant green in the afternoon sun. The road gently rises and climbs slowly giving still more space to herds of sheep and horses. This is the Gobi desert in summer and this is where Tamara had her second flat tire.

No great problem. The hydraulic jack easily lifted the rear tire, four nuts to remove and the tire and wheel roll out from under the fender. One of two spares is then rolled into place, lifted and fitted into the gear, four nuts replaced and we are on the road again.

Small 150cc Chinese bikes pass us laden with five sheep each, bound I guess for market or at least slaughter. The camera only captures the blurs of the passing menagerie. But we do get wonderful footage of tired villages with what appeared to be valiant attempts at renewal. People with no work congregating around Chinese chess boards and scraps of cardboard upon which they slap cards from their hands with shouts of elation or defeat. Sometimes they just stand or sit or sleep in the shade or on the dirt. This is a very different China from the city that was our home for so long.

Then my rear tire went flat and we all had a laugh about the chances of three flats in under 600 Kms. Repeat the process and off we went. About fifty km fro Erenhot, now about 9:30pm I could feel the rear tire going flat again. Impossible! But there it was, absolutely flat. Repeat the process yet again. Now the novelty had worn off. It was late and very dark. Fortunately I had purchases a Petzl (LED) head lamp that illuminated my work area and made the task much less daunting.

I made sure I was on an incline so I could jump start the bike—again. When I pulled up along side Tamara she went to start her bike with the lights on and the master fuse blew immediately. “We’re camping here!” But soon cooler heads prevailed and the ingenuity came to light. Tamara had a similar head lamp that she mounted on the headlight. Dave, using a rechargeable flashlight and between them both they could illuminate the road just enough to safely travel at about 40 kph (about 25 mph) with me in the lead running the bike in third, sometimes in second, gear at a high enough rpm that prevented the engine from stalling.

We could see the lights of Erenhot ahead; maybe we would make it after all. Soon we could see cars running perpendicular to our route so there was a road into town reasonably close. That’s when the police waved us down. I thought he said pull over to the right, the others agree he said travel to the right. But we stopped, Tamara with her jury-rigged lighting system and me with an engine I was afraid to shut down. As he walked towards us he simply waved us on.

We did see a car that was totaled being towed. It seems like a large truck had run over the car and the police were looking for the truck that hit the car. They had no interest in two limping motorcycles trying to get to safety.

A cheap hotel was our sanctuary at 11:30pm that night. Simple food and water for a quick bite before falling onto a hard bed with questionable sheets. We were in Erenhot, 10 Kms from the Mongolian border. Here we had a contact that might be able to help us but that had to wait.

The next morning, Tamara and Dave scouted the town. We found a good hotel and have negotiated the rate, we found an Internet bar and we thing we know where there are restaurants. Revived, we set off to our new digs.

Zhang Shao Wie, a very good friend and my younger Chinese brother, maintains an office in Erenhot for his business in Mongolia. His manager, Guo Yun Hai, along with an interpreter (Candy) contacted us at our new hotel and delivered fruit and the offer of help with anything, any time. “Yes, thank you; maybe in a day or two when I know what I need.”

Then I sent an e-mail message to Jim in Mexico saying I needed help. The next day I got Jim’s reply saying that Frank would be on a train and should arrive in two days. As an aside, I cannot tell you how much I appreciated the response and support from this company and the people associated with Frank’s Classic Sidecars. As it turns out, Frank had to stand on a bus for more than half the ride to Erenhot and then take a cab with some others who were traveling here. This level of service is unheard of in the west. For China it is unthinkable! Yet, Frank showed up and has been working on the bikes and has absolutely solved the problems we were having.

It’s raining today so we have to wait to finish some of the work, a necessary spare part is coming from Beijing by bus tomorrow morning and by the afternoon we will either be waiting at the border for clearance or we will be in Mongolia on our way to Ulaan Baator.

In retrospect, this first leg of the journey has either been a disaster or an opportunity. Quite honestly I would rather see the positive side of what we have accomplished. Yes, we have lost valuable time and that could substantially impact the validity dates of our Russian visa. But beyond that we have met significant problems and with the help of good people, our own creativity and problem solving skills we did meet the first challenge. We have learned the gospel of carburetor maintenance and thus have become a bit more independent.

There were times when we all questioned the wisdom of this dumb-ass idea but I think that for every kilometer we travel we will learn more about ourselves and the gospels according to Chang Jiang, BMW and maybe even electrical systems.

On the road,

Jack and Janet