Start - National City, CA
Stop - Houston, TX
Today's miles - 1,954
Total - 12,742
Bars. Some bikers are basically drinkers who like to ride, others are riders who like to spend time with friends in bars. Bar-hopping is a weekend biker ritual. Or going to a certain place because you know you will find certain people there. I enjoy that part of it. My current "go to" place is Bryant's Icehouse. But mostly I like to ride. Twenty one days on this trip and I didn't set foot in a bar. Group rides are different but solo rides, for me at least, invite focus.
Overpasses are a biker's friend. They can function as an emergency rest room, an impending bad weather changing station, or an actively bad weather event shelter. I have learned to value overpasses and I have discovered there aren't many in the desert. But I only need one at a time so we're good.
Gas stations. Now THAT is an important subject. I'm not brand loyal. I carried a debit card and a Discover card on this trip. But gas stations matter a lot. Here is my pecking order for a great gas station:
- It has a billboard on the highway several miles ahead so you can plan for it.
- It doesn't have a high pressure pump that doesn't allow you to top off your tank. 1/2 gal. in a motorcycle can be 20 extra miles. And trying to top off a tank with a high pressure hose inevitably splashes gas on your bike. You care deeply about that the first few months after you buy your bike. Then it goes away. You don't care so much by the second day of a trip but you still try to be careful.
- The restrooms are indoors, do not require keys, and do not require me to ask where they are.
- There is a good assortment of food and drinks.
- There is a place outside to sit (I seldom need that but my friends do. I have what I need on my bike.)
I don't think that is too much to ask.
So Saturday morning began at 6:30 AM (Houston time) when I packed my bike and headed to the gas station recommended by the hotel guy. Since I wanted to cap off the Epic 25th Six Corners Tour with a Bunburner GOLD (1500 miles in 24 hours) OR a Bunburner 1500 (1500 miles in 36 hours), that meant I had to keep records. I got the two guys working the hotel desk the night before to sign witness forms that I was in fact in the Best Western in National City, CA. They were suspicious that I wanted their names, addresses, phone numbers, and signatures...but I look scary so they complied.
I also had to get receipts every time I got gas that included the date, time, and location and then I had to enter them in a log. When the ride is over you send in the witness forms, the gas receipts, the log, and a map highlighted with your route and your stops. Then the powers that be verify the information, they might even call the witnesses, and let you know if you qualified.
So I went to the local Arco station. To finish the above thought, you can't go wrong with Shell, Exxon, Love's, Buc-ees, or Pilot. I've come to learn that I hate Arco's. De Tocqueville said that future trends will always begin on the west coast of the US so here is a trend you will not like - you had to swipe your debit card at a central location, not at the pump, and you had to agree to a .35 charge to pay for your gas with a card. THAT ain't right. But it was early and I was stuck so I got my gas and got.
I was on the road at 7:00 AM, Houston time (which was 5:00 AM Pacific, I have to write that down because it confused me all day as I passed through three time zones needing to log the time.) It was a great time to leave San Diego. The freeway was basically deserted. I didn't know this before doing it but you are basically dealing with mountains for 90 miles as you leave Southern California. I love that. The views and the sweeps are great.
Then you get to the moon. Wow there is some funky territory in central California. It would be another day in the desert for me but at least I got to see the sort of desert I expected.
I was in Arizona by 9:30 AM (Houston time) and ready for my cooling vest. Man that was a great $30 investment. You just get it wet, wear it under your shirt (I found that worked best), and you are riding in cool comfort all day.
I crossed into Texas sometime around 6:00 PM. This was one of the pictures I looked forward to taking:
Back now to gas stations - if you want to ride long, the best thing is to ride "tank to tank." That means you store up your needs and deal with them only when you need gas. Since I carry everything I need and always have ice water, coffee, and food available on the bike, that is easy for me. So I basically take a long riding day one gas station at a time. Other than that, I don't stop. And I never stop for long.
I think the longest I got on a full tank of gas on this trip was 247 miles. The shortest? Van Horn, TX to Fort Stockton, TX against a brutal howling West Texas wind. Since I was riding the speed limit of 80 mph, and since you need to get gas out there when the gettin' is good, I stopped after 121 miles and needed 4.6 gals. to fill the tank. That was horrible.
It is and will always be scary riding in the dark on I-10 from Fort Stockton all the way to San Antonio. I saw more deer than I can count. No live ones on the road but plenty of rotting meat on the edges. It did, however, keep me awake and on my toes.
It is and will always be scary riding in the dark on I-10 from Fort Stockton all the way to San Antonio. I saw more deer than I can count. No live ones on the road but plenty of rotting meat on the edges. It did, however, keep me awake and on my toes.
I wanted gas before I got into San Antonio so I stopped at a station between there and Boerne only to discover that the station was closed. The gas pumps, however, still worked. While I was filling up a police officer stopped to question what I was doing. Even though I was a bit hazy after riding so far, I kept my tongue and didn't say a wisecrack to the idiot who is watching me putting gas in my bike as he asks me "So what are you doing?"
But what really bugged me was that I needed the gas station to pee as badly as I needed it for gas. I considered heading behind the dumpster but the police officer was still parked and watching me so I just got back on the bike. No sooner did I get back on the interstate than my bladder revolted and told me I was NOT going to ride another foot. So I pulled off onto the shoulder and prepared to do my business. Just as I reached for the Central Command Station, Mr. Police Officer cruises up behind me and hits the lights. Again he asks the million dollar question, "So, what are you doing?" Figuring that honesty was my best policy, I told him, "Man, I needed to piss at that gas station but it was closed. I couldn't hold it any more." So he tells me that there is an open station at the next exit. I gulped, swallowed hard, and made a beeline to the pee line. At least they had good coffee. Exchange of assets.
I got on I-37 out of San Antonio headed toward Corpus Cristi. That is also deer heaven. Bottom line is that I doubt there is anywhere in Texas where it is safe to ride at night. But I made it OK. Got to Corpus and headed south. Another gas stop in Robstown. The road to Brownsville is a pain. It wants to be I-69 when it grows up but, for now, it is either construction or going through towns, with speed limits varying from 25 mph to 75 mph. Two lane, four lane, construction cones, uneven pavement. Again, it kept me awake and on my toes.
After riding all around the United States and dodging just about all the bad weather that I could, the heavens opened just 42 miles from Brownsville. But I just kept on going. I stopped at the first gas station I saw inside the Brownsville city limits. I met my Bunburner GOLD goal. 1,585 miles in 23 hours and 7 minutes. Done. That only included 11 gas stops (it would take two more to get home to Houston) - see how much more reasonable it is to look at it that way?
It took me 1/2 hour to find two strangers willing to certify that I was actually in Brownsville at 6:15 AM on a Sunday morning.
But what really bugged me was that I needed the gas station to pee as badly as I needed it for gas. I considered heading behind the dumpster but the police officer was still parked and watching me so I just got back on the bike. No sooner did I get back on the interstate than my bladder revolted and told me I was NOT going to ride another foot. So I pulled off onto the shoulder and prepared to do my business. Just as I reached for the Central Command Station, Mr. Police Officer cruises up behind me and hits the lights. Again he asks the million dollar question, "So, what are you doing?" Figuring that honesty was my best policy, I told him, "Man, I needed to piss at that gas station but it was closed. I couldn't hold it any more." So he tells me that there is an open station at the next exit. I gulped, swallowed hard, and made a beeline to the pee line. At least they had good coffee. Exchange of assets.
I got on I-37 out of San Antonio headed toward Corpus Cristi. That is also deer heaven. Bottom line is that I doubt there is anywhere in Texas where it is safe to ride at night. But I made it OK. Got to Corpus and headed south. Another gas stop in Robstown. The road to Brownsville is a pain. It wants to be I-69 when it grows up but, for now, it is either construction or going through towns, with speed limits varying from 25 mph to 75 mph. Two lane, four lane, construction cones, uneven pavement. Again, it kept me awake and on my toes.
After riding all around the United States and dodging just about all the bad weather that I could, the heavens opened just 42 miles from Brownsville. But I just kept on going. I stopped at the first gas station I saw inside the Brownsville city limits. I met my Bunburner GOLD goal. 1,585 miles in 23 hours and 7 minutes. Done. That only included 11 gas stops (it would take two more to get home to Houston) - see how much more reasonable it is to look at it that way?
It took me 1/2 hour to find two strangers willing to certify that I was actually in Brownsville at 6:15 AM on a Sunday morning.
From there it was a short hop over to the post office to get my 6th and final corner picture.
Since I got to the gas station at about 6:00 AM, it was still dark. So while my potential witnesses were mulling over the prospect of giving personal information to a complete stranger who looked completely strange, I was talking with Kelley about prospects for the day. Since I was talking from Brownsville, she was 369 miles away. But I ain't sleeping in Texas without my wife so I headed north.
I got to the house around 1:00 PM. Grand total for the day was 1,954 miles in 30 hours.
This sounds weird but ending big rides like this has become quite normal for me. When I was in college and rode out to Mount Vernon, WA, my final leg began in Twin Falls, ID. I rode through the night, and through a pouring rain, from Portland, OR, through Seattle, to Mount Vernon. The first time that I rode through Colorado by myself I rode home all the way from Durango down through Albuquerque and El Paso. After the Hoka Hey ride to Alaska in 2010, my last leg was non-stop to Houston from Cheyenne, WY. I guess I like the challenge and I "smell the barn" of getting to where I'm going.
Kelley was waiting with an open garage door, a kiss, a cool house, and permission to nap. I took her up on all four.
I have some stuff to put together before I'm ready but I hope to write a final recap of the ride tomorrow. Thank you for sharing the journey with me.
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