Raven’s Rides
Raven's Rides Motorcycle Blog

You know, I really don’t recommend having an exploding motorcycle battery. It’s absolutely guaranteed to put you in a bad mood.

This is the story of why my bike was stranded in Stockton for a day and a half.

1. I only bought the battery last December, so it’s not really that old. I went to the Armchair Traveler lecture with Amber and afterwards she drove me so that we could have ice cream and a chat. That was the good part of the day. When I got back to my bike, it refused point blank to start. The lights came on, I tried to start it, there was a nasty click and dry ronk sound and the lights went off. And remained off.

   Poo.

   There were a couple of logistical problems here. I’d left my cellphone on the table at home. Don’s number was on my cellphone, Amber only has mine, and my phone was not only switched off, had it actually been switched on it didn’t have enough minutes left to complete a call. I figured that the best thing to do was just catch a ride home from Amber, who deserves a round of applause since it certainly wasn’t what she’d planned to do with her afternoon.
   

2. Don hauled me back to my bike on the back of his, which is a lot more comfortable for passengering than my own. We found that the positive connector was fairly loose and surmised that since no connection had been made the battery had simply drained while the bike stood.

   We took out the battery to inspect it and established that it was really dead, but might be able to carry a charge. We put it back. It was a pain, fiddly, and took a long time. We tried charging it from Don’s battery but weren’t able to give it enough oomph to crank the engine.

   

3. We tried jumping the bike with the bits of wire that I carry with me everywhere. Fail. We met a friendly student with a great attitude (”I try to learn something new every day”) who offered jumper cables and his car’s engine for some extra oomph. Fail. But Don gave him a quick guided tour to motorcycles, so he learned his new things this day whether we wanted to or not. ;)

   Don wanted me to try towing/bump starting. I refused. It just hurt too much last time.

   We took out the battery and brought it home to charge.
   

4. The battery wasn’t charging. Don figured that something was up internally. He jostled it, just a bit, and there was a very large bang, smoke, and a nasty smell of unhappy acid. All our cats vanished. And all the wax in my ears dislodged. (There. Doesn’t knowing that just make your day?)

   A piece from the battery’s side had blown out, creating a convenient window onto the problem. The positive terminal had cracked. (It was broken before the explosion, not because of the explosion.) The jostle had caused a spark where none should be, blowing out the wall. This was one very sick puppy.

   

5. Don figured we might have a chance of getting the bike the 13 miles home if we made the two torn-asunder pieces of the terminal connect again. He wired them together with copper wire. The battery showed signs of still having a good charge and could make a spark.

   We took it back to the bike. We got lost on the way and ended up touring a delightful area of Stockton with run-down apartments, gang tags and a police road block.

   Just as we got to the bike, looking very forlorn and lonely in that empty parking lot, it started to rain. Now, it hadn’t rained all month, so that rain must have been special-ordered. I swore profusely at the universe.

   

6. We put the battery back in. It still wouldn’t crank over the engine. We tried putting both bikes physically together to use Don’s battery to get the engine to crank. It generated lots of smoke, but no crank. We tried push-starting it but I couldn’t push fast enough. We discussed our two primary options: leave the bike overnight and come back with a new battery, or try to bump it through towing. I sighed.

   We got the tow rope out.

7. The campus policeman showed up to find out what two bikers were doing in the middle of a parking lot at going on midnight. Fortunately, he was a Harley rider and understood our pain. He also kind of winced when we explained what we were about to attempt. But he did say we’d receive no tickets if we left the bike and offered a spot right by the police station And then he left us to attempt our crash bike-starting maneuver in peace.

8. We set up the towing for a dry run. After about three inches I completely lost my nerve and called it off. So, entirely fed up, I set out to paddle my bike the half-mile to the police station. Don pushed my bike along with his bike (he rode alongside and used his foot). We got the idea that this might be an alternative method to bump-start the bike, but couldn’t get it to work.

   The nice cop swung by to say hello and find out how we were doing. We laughed. Hollowly.

9. Sweaty and exhausted, we deposited the bike in the parking lot and confirmed with the dispatcher that we had permission and didn’t want to be cited, thank you very much. They were very nice about it.

   We swung by Safeway and got dinner–stew and bread.

   The bread rolls were stale and, as I took the stew from the micowave, the plate slipped and half the stew got spilled.
   

10. This morning, after six or so hours of sleep, I started calling around for a battery. I have a pretty non-standard battery that many people did not have in stock. One of the dealers actually hung up on me when I said that no, I was looking for in-stock, earning himself a slot on Raven’s Shit List. I also emailed customer service at the battery supplier, only to find out that my primary email wasn’t delivering.
    

11. I found a possible compatible battery in Lodi and a definite in Sacramento. When Don was ready he took me down to Napa Auto Parts in the old part of Lodi. We entered a store that had been there 100+ years and had the concept of customer service down pat. The sales clerk said that yeah, it was a pain in the butt but she could let us take the battery and try it. But we established that it was just a bit bigger than mine (which is a tight fit) and had different terminals, so we figured not. She wished us luck on our quest.
    

12. Next stop: Sacramento’s Cycle Gear store where, lo and behold, the battery was available. Woo-hoo! Since we hardly ever get to bike shops these days, Don also bought a new helmet and gloves. I looked for gloves but didn’t find any that I liked.

    Our trip also involved a late lunch at Panda Express. Things were, indeed, looking up.

    

13. We got home around five, added acid to the battery and charged it. While it charged, we took a nap and played with the cats. After a little while we took off to Stockton and to my relief not only was the bike still there, it hadn’t been ticketed. Experts by now, we popped out the old battery, stuck in the new, and with only a quick delay to thank the police, we went home. And there was much rejoicing!
    

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