After putting in a half day at the office, I got on the road about 2:30 in the afternoon. It's typically a nightmare trying to get out of the L.A. Basin on Friday afternoon, so I thought going out the "back way" via Ortega Highway through Perris [2] would help me avoid the problem. That route was slow, also. I believe I averaged 37 mph the first two hours. I spent a brief moment on I-10 between Beaumont and  Palm Springs before cutting off towards Twentynine Palms [5]. I had my first gas stop in Parker, AZ [6] which gave me nearly 252 miles on the tank.

I swapped face shields because the sun was going down. I went south on Hwy 95 then to  AZ 72. As I reached AZ 60 [7], I decided that two lanes at night wasn't as much fun and was more dangerous, so I jumped on I-10 for the rest of the ride into Apache Junction [9].

I checked into the motel and was "out" by 11 pm.

Total for the day: 452 miles.

No alarm needed for today. I had it set for 4:00 and was wide awake at 3:30. I got dressed, packed and arrived at the check-in location in plenty of time to chit-chat. There weren't as many riders as I was expecting, maybe 20 or so. I was off right at 5:00 am heading north on I-17 towards Flagstaff [3]. As I rode north, I saw signs warning of ice on the road. I thought that AZDot had just been lazy and had not taken down the winter signage. I did notice that it was starting to cool as I rose in elevation.

Smiling Theresa at the Apache Junction Check-In

You know those moments when you're riding towards dark clouds and you see the cars coming the other direction with the windshield wipers going and you decide to stop to put on your rain gear? Well, imagine what was going through my head when I saw cars coming from the other direction with snow on the hood! Not just a few cars, but on all of the cars! Then I see snow on the ground. As I near Flagstaff, the road is wet and now I'm really starting to worry about ice on the road. Fortunately, it had just melted but the snow was fresh from the night before. When I stop for gas and a cup of coffee, the clerk tells me that, when she left her house, it was 34-35F. That means that it was now (about 7:30 am) about 38F or so. Fortunately (or not), I have the wind chill formula in my PDA and quickly realize that, at 75 mph (the legal speed limit in the area), the wind chill factor is 16F! No wonder my thighs were going numb!

I spend too much time at the stop getting warmed up. As I am about to leave, another participant pulls into the gas station and asks me if I'm doing the ride. I nod. He asks if he can ride with me, since the only directions he has are the ones the Ride for the Heart Foundation printed. I start with "I'm really used to riding alone..." when he goes to pay for his gasoline. When he returns, he has thought about what I said and responds "I respect you wanting to ride by yourself." I feel a little bad about it, and tell him we can try it for one leg. He's riding a Yamaha FJR and shouldn't have any trouble keeping up with the Old Boxer. As we are getting ready to depart, he says "Mandatory gas stop in Kingman, right?" I respond "More or less". I had previously talked with the event organizer, Bill Davis, when I mentioned to him that it difficult going through Flagstaff towards Henderson and not go through Flagstaff. He said something about St. George, which put a bug in my head. Based on that conversation, I had planned on taking the northern route around the Grand Canyon (just to be different). By the time the morning of the event came, I realized that the day would be long enough as it was without adding the extra 200 miles (or so) on my petty 4-1/2 hours of sleep. Instead, I realized that if I got gas in Searchlight [6] instead of Kingman, I could eliminate one gas stop between Flagstaff and Beatty. By the way, it was a good thing that I didn't take the northern route. It was snowing in St. George. I would have been stuck!

As we were rolling through Kingman [4], Jack, my riding companion for the moment, pulls along side of me and points to his gas tank. We pull over on the side of the freeway when he reveals that he only has 175 mile range. I think "What kind of touring bike is this?" I nod and we pull off at the next exit for gas. We loop around Bullhead City on I-40 and through Needles [5] heading north on Hwy 95.

We reach Henderson [8] without incident. In trying to find the checkpoint, I realize the difference between a "via" and a "stop" on the GPS. Apparently, I miss a turn and, when I do, the GPS is directing me towards the next "via" which is Beatty instead of giving me directions back to it as it will for a stop. We spend a lot of time taking the scenic tour of Henderson, Nevada before I finally pull off and look at a paper MAP (as opposed to a GPS). We then find the checkpoint easily.

At the stop, I realize I've lost my cell phone somewhere (probably in Flagstaff) and I'm somewhat unnerved riding so much without one. We depart Henderson after getting gas. As we ride through North Las Vegas, I decide to pull off and ask my wife to see if she can get a new phone for me. At that stop, I ask Jack to ride ahead since I was going to take some time getting the phone stuff taken care of. He asks "Are you sure?" I nod. There was nothing at all wrong with Jack or his riding style. It was me. The whole time from Flagstaff to Las Vegas, all I could do was look in my rear view mirror to see if Jack was still there, if he made the turn O.K., if he had enough gas, etc. I wasn't having any fun at all. As soon as I pulled back out onto the road again, riding solo, the relief was immediately noticeable. There's a reason I enjoy riding solo and at that moment, I was never more convinced of that point.

About half way from Las Vegas to Beatty [9], the skies are getting darker due to the storm on the horizon. I decide to stop to put on my rain gear, just in case. As it turns out, it never really rained on me other than a few sprinkles. I just know for a fact that, if I had not put on my rain gear, I would have encountered a bonafide gully-washer.

I depart Beatty towards Death Valley. It's a great ride, although a little breezy. The view in Death Valley is always remarkable to me. It's a quite efficient ride as I turn south on CA 395 at Olancha [11] and head south. I transition to CA 14 then onto CA 178 towards Lake Isabella. I pass Jack and his new riding companion at Lake Isabella. Apparently his additional gas stop compensated for mine in North Las Vegas. I pull into a gas station in Bakersfield [12]. Other than a couple of traffic control devices, this is the first time I've put my foot on the pavement since Beatty; 242.4 miles, a personal best. As I stop for gas, I also grab a snack and call home. Jack and his companion pass by.

I swap face shields again. By my definition it's another excellent riding day; one when I have to change face shields twice. A good riding day is changing face shields once. It's pretty dark going through the Tehachapi Pass on CA 58. I turn south on CA 14 at Mojave [13] to Palmdale where I pick up the Pear Blossom Highway (CA 138). I ride through Wrightwood until I reach I-15 and turn south to my next checkpoint in Ontario [14]. I once again see Jack, who tells me he is riding straight through back to Apache Junction. I meet Ken Smith, on of the new Directors for the Ride for the Heart Foundation. Our conversation invigorates me which helps for my last leg of the day, returning home to sleep in my own bed [15]. I arrive at nearly 11 pm and have no trouble getting to sleep.

Total for the day: 1,124 miles (still not a personal best). I'm not event going to submit an application to the IBA for a certificate. Continue reading to find out why.

After a good night's sleep, I shower and enjoy a good protein breakfast prepared by my lovely and supportive wife, Nancy. I roll out at a leisurely 8 am and head south for my next checkpoint in San Diego  [3]. After a lengthy chat, I'm on the road towards the end of the BB 1500 (1,500 miles in 36 hours). This is all Interstate which I usually find very boring, but I manage to keep my mind entertained. I have lunch in Gila Bend [5], my only "sit-down" meal of the weekend. I do this in order to take the time to do some mileage calculations. It would be a shame to have gone this far and not reach the goals I had set for myself. Once I realize I have plenty of time to reach the final check-in, I adopt a more casual pace. I stop for a bottle of water in Florence [6], mostly for the receipt. I pull into Apache Junction [7] at 4:30 pm, a whopping half hour ahead of the deadline. The dealership is closed, but I find two riders getting ready to depart. When I pull up and ask them if they know anything about the RFTH event, they have a glazed look on their faces. That's when Val comes running over and appears a little frantic. Apparently she has been calling me all afternoon, wondering if I had quit or had problems. I said "no", that my approach to an event like this is simply "If I can't be first, I might as well be last." I asked "Did Bill Davis tell you what time I checked into Watsonville last Fall?" (hint: I finished that one also a half hour ahead of the deadline). She responded "No. Bill must be getting even with me for taking 33 hours last year." I asked "What was your hurry?" I then told her that I had lost my mileage envelope somewhere between Flagstaff and Henderson, along with my cell phone, but I still had my receipts which were in my wallet. She then wrote down my mileage and we chatted for a little bit.

A few moments later, my sister Carol calls me. I am carrying Nancy's cell phone today, but her timing is perfect. Apparently, she is under the impression I'm done riding for the day because she is extremely chatty. I end up spending about an hour at the check point before getting back on the road again. Since I jumped on the Interstate prematurely on Friday night, I decide to take the northern route through Wickenburg [10] where the sun is setting once again. Out comes the clear face shield. I'm starting to get the hang of changing face shields on the Arai. It helps to practice by changing them twice a day.

It's a dark and tiring ride home on I-10. This was my least favorite leg of the weekend ride. I stop one place along the route just to take off my helmet, rub my head and walk around in circles for five minutes or so. That maneuver proves to be very invigorating. I make my final gas stop near home ([13] & [14]) and pull into the driveway before 1 am.

Total for the day: 957 miles.

36 hour total: 1,625 miles. My second BB 1500.

Two day (48 hour) total: 2,081 miles. My first SS2000. Click here for the IBA certificate.

Total for the weekend: 2,533 miles. That's equivalent to leaving Orange County on Friday afternoon and arriving in Daytona Beach midnight, Sunday night, except I didn't spend the entire weekend on I-10.

No performance awards.
No (serious) mechanical failure events. I still have an electrical gremlin.
No monkey butt. That Rocky Mayer seat is amazing.
Raised over $400 for charity. At every checkpoint, while the volunteer was recording my mileage, I got some variation of a comment remarking on how well my bike looks considering the mileage. Now, if I could only get them to say that about the rider.
I believe I was the high mileage entry for the entire event.

Not a bad weekend, eh?