May 6th & 7th, 2006

Nice Weekend Ride

Did you have a nice weekend?

I did. I went on a little motorcycle ride. It actually started Friday night. Nancy and I went down to San Diego, me on the bike and her in her car. No, she wasn't going to join me this weekend. This ride was definitely going to violate her "8 hour rule". But she is supportive and was there to see me off. We arrive in San Diego about the same time. We would be spending the night at the Holiday Inn Express on Miramar Road. This was one of the starting points for the Ride for the Heart Foundation charity ride; an event that has been growing over the past three or four years. The ride consists of a loop, running clockwise and includes stops in San Diego, Ontario, Henderson, Nevada and Apache Junction, Arizona. Riders would start and end from each of these locations; some attempting to complete the Iron Butt Association Saddle Sore 1000 (1,000 miles in 24 hours) or the Bun Burner 1500 (1,500 miles in 36 hours) with yours truly in the latter category.

After a not-so-inspiring Chinese dinner and an early night, we awoke at 3 am (thanks to the trusty cell phone alarm clock) and were ready to roll at a quarter to 5. Surprisingly, the parking lot was already abuzz with activity. The Ride for the Heart trailer was open getting folks signed in. Bikes were getting moved into position. World famous long distance rider Dave Mishaloff checked my mileage and signed me off. I asked him "Is this too short of a ride for you, Dave?". He responded that it wasn't, but he had already ridden the event and it was time to "give back". He then offered words of advice to completing such an event. He said to ride "slow and steady". Great. These are two words I have never come close to wearing out. If I were into "slow and steady", I definitely wouldn't be so fascinated with motorcycles. So, before I even start, I realize I have a handicap.

5:30 finally rolls around and we are released. I am the first one out of the parking lot and riding north on I-15 towards our first stop in Ontario. The Ontario stop was a concern for me because we would still be bunched up as a group and I feared it would take a long time getting through the checkpoint. Being the first one in solved that problem. Even though I was fairly certain that I could make it to Baker on my remaining fuel, I promised Nancy that I would be conservative with my gas stops, so I topped off the tank.

The ride through the Cajon Pass was uneventful except for the fact that it was a little cooler than I had expected. I make an unplanned stop at Hwy 138 to don my heavier gloves and change my face shield. Due to the clear traffic, I arrive at Baker on schedule even with the unplanned stop at Wrightwood.

There are a few others at the same gas stop, getting gas and hydrating. I'm amazed at how many Harley Davidson's are entered in this event. Clearly, the majority of the bikes are HDs, but none of the riders appear to be of the RUB variety. There are a few Hondas; mostly Gold Wings along with a couple of STs but very few BMWs; two or three RTs and three or four LTs.

After getting fueled, I turn north on Hwy 127 towards Death Valley then Hwy 178 towards Pahrump, Nevada which is one of the "corners" of the 1,500 mile route. After stopping to get the requisite proof of destination (aka a gas receipt), I am quickly off towards the next checkpoint: Henderson, Nevada. I arrive a little later than I had hoped, mostly due to road construction on the west side of Las Vegas. I do arrive at the checkpoint, Henderson Harley Davidson about 11 am. I'm amazed at how well this event is staffed. I pull in to the checkpoint and I am handed a bottle of water. I am directed towards a nearby tent where there awaits more snacks. The H-D dealer would be serving lunch soon, I'm told. While I am taking my break, a gentleman approaches me and asks about my city lids, the narrow covers over my panniers. I explain that they are conducive to lane splitting in Los Angeles to which he nods his head. I also add that they add aerodynamic stability at higher velocities. Regardless whether this statement is perceived as a  rationalization or a statement of scientific fact he once again nods his head and responds "Oh, absolutely." He then introduces himself. He's Michael Kneebone, founder and President of the Iron Butt Association. I shake his hand and mention that I had just completed my first SaddleSore 1000 in December. I tell him that he's done a great job building the IBA over the years and he humbly states that he has a lot of good help. I pass on the free hot dogs and head towards the next check point: Apache Junction.

Shortly after going through Kingman, I start to get very tired. It's mid-afternoon (1:30 pm when I go through Kingman) and starting to get warm. I'm hoping to get to my next gas stop in Wickenburg, but realize I'm losing energy fast. Before things get dangerous, I pull off to the side of the road, and remove my jacket and helmet. I grab a bottle of water out of my pack and soak my hair, splash my face and neck. I then take the remaining contents and pour it between my shirt and my body. It's official! I'm awake! Zowie! That worked so well, I don't even stop in Wickenburg and ride all the way to Apache Junction. For the first time on the route (and the only time), I see my reserve light come on. I fill up before arriving at the checkpoint.

I arrive at Superstition H-D shortly after the store closes, but they remain open for this event. Once again, I'm handed a bottle of water as one of the volunteers gets the mileage off my odometer. I'm directed upstairs where they have snacks set up and I fix myself a sandwich and a glass of orange juice. The dealer has provided a large meeting room so that the local chapter of H.O.G. can have their meetings. It's a large room. I try to visualize Irv Seaver's including such a facility when they (finally) remodel, but just can't because I don't have that much imagination. As I remark to one of the volunteers attending to the snacks that I couldn't imagine seeing such a facility at a BMW dealership, she says "The dealer is very good to us" to which I respond "and vice-versa?". She nods.

I depart the facility to what I perceive as the most difficult leg of the day. It's nearly 6 pm and about 220 miles to Lordsburg, New Mexico. I stop in Globe to once again change face shields since the sun is about to abandon me. I call Nancy to let her know where I am. She gives me an update where I am with respect to schedule as she as done on every stop today. I also call my sister, Carol, who decided to ride from El Paso to Lordsburg to have breakfast with me. You see, the "sickness" runs in the family. I wonder if my life would have been any different if I had not been so enamored by John Kay and Steppenwolf in high school? Would I still always be looking for adventure? It's hard to say, but probably so.

I make my final stop of the day in Safford for my "boost"; a Frappacino and a candy bar. I save this for the last leg of any ride knowing the sugar crash is dangerous, but the boost is always good for an hour (or more). The remainder of the trip is in darkness mitigated only by a half moon directly overhead. My awareness is kept at a high level due to the fact that there are these little towns with one 30 mph speed zone and one Sheriff each. I survive each one without a Performance Award and arrive at the motel at 9:30 pm (California time). I check in, hug my sister and spend the next hour or so winding down. I try to politely tell my sister that I could go unconscious at any time and suggest that we retire for the evening. She agrees. We decide to rise early so that we could have breakfast together.

Total for the day: 977 miles (uncorrected) in 16 hours.

The alarm goes off at 5 am (4 am California time) and I am ready to go by 5. I call Carol to see if she is ready and she says that she would be in a couple of minutes. We have breakfast across the street from the motel and spend some good time getting caught up. While the Bun Burner ride makes this weekend eventful, meeting my sister in Lordsburg makes the weekend special.

I roll at 6:45 am, later than most of the folks who spent the night at the hotel. Today's ride is not going to be as enjoyable as yesterday's. Yesterday's ride had a considerable amount of two lane country roads while today is pure Interstate. Yes, I would spend the entire day with the Devil himself. The important thing is that I arrive safely in San Diego before 5:30 so that I complete the event within 36 hours.

I make very few stops; Tucson, Gila Bend and Yuma. It's noon by the time I reach Yuma and it's getting very warm. I grab my sweatshirt out of my bag and take it in to the restroom and get it soaked. By the time I'm done, it must weigh 15 pounds, but it's holding a lot of water. Two gentlemen who are also in the event and are at the same gas station are skeptical whether the sweatshirt will stay wet for very long. I explain that I put it on under my jacket and control the "air conditioning" by opening and closing the zippers. The ploy works for I am cool the rest of the day. In fact, by the time I reach the mountains outside of San Diego, I'm actually too cold and stop to take off the sweatshirt (which is still wet).

I arrive back at the hotel at 3:15 and check in. I receive my pin and thank Bill Davis and the Ride for the Heart Foundation for putting on the event. Not only was it an enjoyable ride and got to see my sister but I also raised $700 for charity. I filled up my tank one more time and rode the 60 miles home. Just to be sure, I topped off my tank in San Juan Capistrano, in case the mileage to San Diego fell short. I got to the gas station in San Juan Capistrano at 4:45 pm, so I was still within the 36 hours.

Total for the day: 651 miles (uncorrected) in 10 hours.

Total for the weekend: 1,628 miles (uncorrected) in 36 hours.

I received my certificate on June 7, 2006. Click here to see it.