If all of our trips were uneventful, without breakdowns or other we wouldn't have stories to tell. Not that this story is Jeep specific but it emulates road failures;
Back in the early '90's I was down on my luck. What was supposed to be a life long family career had ended due to what was once a Masonic and family friend's treachery. This, coupled with my Mom's passing a couple years before, a very devout Lady but with a gentle, caring manner. How She hooked up with my Father, a manipulating, profane, bigoted 30 year lifer Marine, I'll never know. (Although I've come to terms with my feelings about my father since).
So it was during this troubled time I decided to head out for an aimless putt on my old Kawasaki Z1R tc (turbo). From where I was living, in Albany, Oregon I headed south on I-5 to the town of my birth, Roseburg, Oregon. Cruising around my old neighborhood I recognized what I thought was my families' old house (1959-1963). Pausing for a moment a little old lady came out and said hello. I greeted her and mentioned that my family once lived there, whereupon she invited me in for a tall glass of lemonade. Being a life long resident she recollected changes to Roseburg since my family left for Montana when I was 3. Taking a brief tour of this home that was one of a tract I came to realize that ours was actually the house next door. Nonetheless it was a nice visit and good to cool off after what was shaping up to be a hot summer ride.
I headed east on Hwy. 138 that went from heavily wooded forests when it happened....
The old Z started blowing main fuses.
I always kept spares as well as a tool roll on the bike on all runs so replacing the fuse wasn't a problem. I continued along and in about another 15 miles and the fuse blew again. After inspecting the wiring as best I could without finding the issue, I carried on in this wilderness. Another 20 miles or so and I'm on my last 20 amp fuse. Remembering years before my Mom's reminder, "Never underestimate the power of prayer" I knelt down next to my Z and asked for specific help to get me home. By this time in my life I wasn't even a regular Church goer so this was rather unusual for me. I buttoned up the bike and continued on to what I intended as my destination when I left Roseburg, Crater Lake.
By the time I reached the red colored access road (they used volcanic cinder as the aggregate when they built the road years ago) to the rim drive on the crest of the lake, the sun was beginning to set. It was late in fire season and Crater Lake is at a higher elevation than many of the peaks and hills in the local area and all of the valleys between were filled with smoke. When the sun set it was bright crimson and it cast this smoke the same color of red. The surreal image of the peaks and hills that protruded at this time appeared to be islands in a red ocean, not unlike some of the psychedelic album covers of the '60's and '70's. Pity, I had the wrong speed of film in my venerable old Minolta SLR but that image has remained with me to the present day. Had it not been for the delays along Hwy. 138 I would've missed this.
Leaving Crater Lake after dark I made for Hwy 97 northbound where I would junction off to Hwy 58. After the first 20 miles or so after getting on 58 I noticed that the day before there had been road work resurfacing. As there was no shoulder I had to roll right through several miles of scarified asphalt. (Imagine 3" rain grooves and you'll get the idea). Hwy 58 eventually gave way to I-5 and I made my way back to Albany in the middle of the night for an exhausted sleep.
The following day, late in the morning after I eventually got up I pulled the side cover off and inspected that last remaining main fuse....
The fuse box was slightly melted, the glass fuse was brown and black and the contacts were likewise discolored, but that circuit never failed. I later found the culprit and replaced a section of the harness.
I leave it to the reader to draw their own conclusions.
