Friday, August 11th, 2017
I'm gambling that the switch has arrived in Spokane, it's been 5 days. I don't have cell service at the campground or anywhere nearby so I just pack up camp, head for Spokane, and hope for the best.
In Bonners Ferry I've finally got cell service and a message from the shop in Spokane saying my switch has arrived. Perfect, my gamble paid off. Hot as hell today and still smoky from the forest fires. It doesn't make for a very enjoyable combination on the motorcycle. I get on the highway just to make it to Spokane as quick as I can. It's a pretty big city, between Coeur d'Alene and Spokane there is plenty of sprawl. I get lost trying to find the BMW dealer. They sure picked a strange place, a mile from the nearest business, to set up shop. The transaction is business-like, I don't even need to speak to the parts guy, just the receptionist to pick up my switch then I'm out of there. I want to get away from the hot city traffic as soon as I can.
Some thirty miles of straight road on the plains later I arrive in the small town of Davenport. I'm tired from all this heat so I pull into a motel all dolled up to look like an old western town. No one is arround, I speak to a guy through a webcam on the office door. He tells me to pick a room from the keys that are in the drop box. Not number 2 he says, it's got a female motif that wouldn't be appropriate for a guy on a motorcycle. I take his word for it and pick number 9, a room decorated with old train memorabilia. It's all kitschy but kind of cool; I feel like it's lost on me though, I'm not out for tourism, just looking for a place to crash.
I ride into the center to get groceries. I end up talking to a gentleman who is impressed with all the mileage on Greta; he has a Honda Goldwing from 86 that only has 26,000 miles on it. "How fast have you been on this thing?", he asks. "140 I say, that's confirmed, after 140 I didn't dare look at the speedometer any more." The age for those kind of stunts has passed us by, both for me and for Greta.