This afternoon, after a week of not riding my motorcycle because it was raining the whole time, I asked my wife to come up with errands she needed me to do, to give me an excuse to take the bike out. She obliged, and off I went.
At 6:10, she texted me: “ETA for your return?”
At 6:11, I replied: “15 minutes”
At 6:15, I followed that up with:
“It’s going to be much longer than that, my motorcycle chain just derailed. I have no idea what to do. I’m in the middle of the road behind the parking structure and I can’t move the bike.”
Well, damn.
Between 6:11 and 6:15, I had started up the bike, ridden it out down the ramps and out the exit of the aforementioned parking structure, stopped at a stop sign, turned around, the corner, and then “kcchh!” my bike made a grinding sound and stopped. Fortunately, I was in first gear and not going fast, so I was unharmed. I tried restarting the bike and easing out the clutch again, with the same result (for the record: I should not have done this).
At this point I put down the kickstand, lowered the bike onto it, dismounted, and went to examine what was going on. The problem was obvious: my chain was completely derailed from the rear sprockets.
Well, damn.
Fortunately, the particular parking exit road I was on was not the route people usually take, so it wasn’t a huge problem that I was stuck in the middle of the road and my bike wouldn’t move. This was quite lucky, since as you are about to hear I was stranded there for two and a half hours.
I took out my toolkit and removed the chain-guard to get a better look at what was going on. One of the three chain-guard bolts was a bitch to get out, but I finally managed to get it lose.
With the chain-guard off I could see that not only had the chain derailed, but it had gotten wedged between the sprocket plate and the swingarm. I wasn’t going to be able to get the chain back onto the sprockets without first getting it out of where it was wedge. I proceeded to spend the next hour or so trying desperately to do that and failing. This involved:
- pulling on the chain as hard as I could with my bare hands to try to pull it out from between the sprocket plate and swingarm;
- attempting to remove the sprocket plate, which I was unable to do because one of the four nuts holding it on was partially stripped and therefore the wrench in my toolkit designed for those nuts was unable to grip it (this is totally unacceptable and I will be asking the shop to replace this bolt under warranty);
- removing the milk crate I had strapped on above the passenger seat to carry cargo for one of the errands I’d been sent out on by my wife;
- removing my saddlebags to give me better access, which required pulling apart several cords with my bare hands, using the pliers in my toolkit to sever a wire-tie, and taking the passenger seat off to free the saddlebag straps pass under it;
- removing the axle nut, then using a wrench as a pry-bar between the wheel and swingarm to try to create enough of a gap between the sprocket plate and swingarm to free the chain;
- getting grease all over my hands (fortunately, I am smart enough to carry a clean hand towel in my saddlebags, but let’s face it, there’s only so much a towel can do when up against chain grease);
- ramming my hand into the sprockets and gashing open the back of my thumb; and
- a decent amount of swearing.
At this point I was pretty desperate. I was out of ideas, it was after dusk and quickly getting darker, and I was worried it was going to be a lot more dangerous for me and my bike to be in the road in the dark.
And then my guardian angel, Frank, showed up.
Frank was a grizzled guy with a short white beard driving a pick-up truck with one of those big, built-in tool-boxes in the back. As he passed by me on the road he asked if I needed any help. I told him with obvious frustration in my voice that my chain had derailed and I was out of ideas. He immediately backed his truck into a parking space across the road from where I was, and came over to take a look.
Frank stayed with me for over an hour.
First, he helped me get that last nut off of the sprocket plate using socket wrenches from his truck.
Then, with me moving the bike forward and back as needed, Frank was able to use a piece of wood from his truck and a hammer to pry the chain loose from where it had been trapped between the sprocket plate and swingarm.
Next, Frank put the nuts back on the sprocket posts and tightened them with his socket wrenches.
After that, while I moved the bike as needed, Frank put the chain back onto the sprockets.
Remember, we’re doing all this with the bike on the ground, no rear stand!
Next, we adjusted the drive chain slack. I expected to eventually have to learn how to do this myself, in my backyard, in the middle of the day when there was lots of light, with the bike up on a rear stand. I did not expect to have to do it for the first time in the dark in the middle of a road next to a parking structure, but it wasn’t going to be safe to drive the bike home without reducing the slack.
(If it’s not obvious by now, the chain had probably derailed because it got stretched due to normal wear and tear and I was not checking the slack frequently enough and let it get too loose. Lesson learned!)
Once the slack was correct, we made sure the alignment marks on both sides of the swingarm matched and then tightened the axle. (I am very, very glad I read the motorcycle’s manual cover to cover when I first got it, because otherwise, I would not have known how to adjust the drive chain slack or ensure proper axle alignment.
Next, we put back on the chain-guard. At this point that the bolt I had a lot of trouble removing two hours before refused to go back into the hole it was originally in or one of the other holes, so we left it off for the time being (being down one bolt isn’t great, but two are actually enough to hold the guard on), and I’m also planning on asking the bike shop to replace the bolt under warranty.
At this point I put on my helmet, got on the bike, started it up, took it for a spin around the parking lot, and confirmed that I was able to get it all the way up to fifth gear and back down to first with no trouble.
At this point I thanked Frank profusely for the tenth time or so, shook his hand, and said good-bye. After he left, I put back on the saddlebags, passenger seat, and milk crate, packed up my toolkit and put it back in its storage compartment, put back on the rest of my gear, and rode the bike home without incident.
What still needs to be done to finish handling this incident:
- I need to try to figure out which parts of the bike I touched with my greasy hands and clean them.
- I need to replace the greasy towel from tonight with a clean one in my saddlebag.
- I need to actually measure the drive chain slack to confirm it’s now within spec, since, “Hmm, this looks fine,” is a bit too imprecise for my tastes when we’re talking about something that could kill me if it’s wrong.
- I need to check by the light of day to confirm that the alignment marks on both sides of the swingarm are truly even, and even them up if they’re not.
- I need to tighten the drive chain puller locknuts and axle nut to the specified torque. Being tight enough to drive the bike home doesn’t mean they’re at the proper torque. It’s a good thing I bought big and small torque wrenches a month or so ago!
- I need to adjust the brake pedal free play and check afterward that the brake light is still working properly, since this is supposed to be done whenever the drive chain slack is adjusted.
- I need to clean and lubricate the drive chain.
- I need to get the dealer to replace the defective sprocket plate nut and chain-guard bolt.
- Finally, I need to find some way to “pay forward” the kindness that Frank showed me tonight.
Overall, this was a frustrating experience, but it could have been a lot worse: I could have been seriously injured, and my bike could have been seriously damaged, if the chain had derailed at higher speed. I learned a lot from it, most importantly that I need to check my chain slack more frequently.
From my conversation with Frank while he was helping me, I think it’s unlikely that he’s the kind of person who will ever see this blog posting. But if you happen to know a grizzled guy named Frank who lives in Arlington, Massachusetts, owns and rides a Harley Street Bob less frequently than he would like, drives a pick-up truck with tools in the back, and does short-haul trucking for a living, please thank him again for me.
P.S. The best part? When I finally got home two and a half hours after my chain derailed, the boba tea my wife had sent me out for was still good.
