b'An Entry from Mallorys MotoDog blog:I dont even flinch as the semi rumbles past;just stand there in acloud of dust, staring in disbelief; wondering if I should vomit orcry. Deciding neither will do any good, I begin to pack essentialsinto my backpack, and try to calculate how long it will take towalk 30 miles.A rider pulls over. I explain the situation. Theres nothing hecan do to help. He checks that we have enough food and waterand continues heading south.Wed been cruising along, making great time, when sudden-ly Rufio started almost imperceptibly to lose power. I glanced atthe mileage, we shouldnt be out of gas. It sputtered a bit, Ipulled over, completely confused. Double checked, yes we havefuel. Noticed a puddle of oil and dropped to the ground.The drain plug is missing. Completely gone. A vacant holeremains, oil dribbling out. I dont know a lot about engines yet,but I know oil is crucial. Running dry could kill Rufio and myAlaskan dreams. Obsessively checking the oil level has been theone thing Im good at. Id topped it off 100 miles back whenstopping for gas, feeling good that we were ready to roll. Mallory watches while Baylor takes command of Rufio.The only thing I can think to do is get to town, try to get atow, hope the engine isnt wrecked. Slinging my bag over myshoulder, I reach down to unlatch Baylor when two men pull up.Having troubles?The drain plug is gone, I holler over the rumble of theirheavily loaded KLRs.Lucky you. Ive got a spare.I just stare at him silently. Not in the mood for jokes.Reaching into a pocket, he pulls out a spare KLR drain plug,puts it in my hand. In shock, I just stand there.Wait a sec, needs the washer, too, he says jovially.Ohmygod, thisthis is amazing. But I dont have anyoil left.He looks at his buddy. Ive got a half bottle. Mike, dontyou have a full one? He hands the plug to Mike as Im stilljust standing there staring; unable to process that John and Mikehappened to pass by at the exact right moment, with the exactright spare part.Plug snugly in place, I pour the oil and put the key in theignition. Timidly press the starter, afraid of the outcome. I press (Above): Baylor checks out the doggie menu at Sweet Sage Cafeon North Redington Beach.again, Mike reaches over and gives it a healthy rev. It fires right (Below): Reading Steinbecks Travels With Charley.up. We let out a cheer.Continued concern still showing on my face, Mike reassuresme, sounds like your valves need adjusting, but you should bejust fine now. In my excited state, I forget to get their address, email, anyway to properly thank them and repay their kindness. All I knowis this, Mike Carpenter and John Thomas have been planningthis trip from their home in West Virginia to Alaska for years. Andnow that John is retired, theyre living their dream. Touring Alaskaa grand success, theyre now headed south hoping to stopthrough Klamath Falls, Oregon and pay a visit to Mikes nephewin California. They have the tools and parts to fix almost anyissue and the positive attitudes to actually make it fun. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I throw all mybelongings back on the bike. Give Mike and John a final wave asthey head south. Give Rufio a hug, Baylor a treat and get backon the road to Alaska. Thank you karma. I owe you.15 daysdown. Many to come.www.TheNewBarker.com Spring 2016 THE NEW BARKER 37'