Who Does This? The 50CC Ride Report

As I said in the prologue to this report, be warned that this will be a LONG ride report – just the kind that I like to read.  For all of you engineers out there, I’ll include plenty of detailed numbers.  For everyone else, stream of consciousness prose.

WARNING:  I am no expert or even very knowledgeable about long distance motorcycle riding.  Keep googling and you will find lots of better stuff and far more experienced riders.  You might even find some great ride reports.  Like from my new long distance motorcycling hero that I know only as “Brian from Austin.”  Check out this one from the time he rode through 48 states in less than ten days.  Awesome!  Anyhow, here goes nothing…

Monday morning - Charleston and Folly Beach, SC

I set my alarm for 4:30 AM.  Time zones require math and therefore freak me out so I figured an east coast early start is no big deal.  Besides, I had a few things to do before I would feel good about leaving for two days on the bike and I wanted to make sure that I wasn’t rushed and had plenty of time.  It would be about a 20 minute ride to the start.

Once again I loaded up the stuff that I had along, especially the personal care items that mattered to me – a Monster/ice water cocktail in my Camelbak, apples, protein bars, and sunflower seeds, all in my tank bag.  The ride to Folly Beach and the gas station was a piece of cake. I made special note of the turn that I had missed the day before by turning too quickly.

I got to the station a little earlier than I thought.  I was aiming at a 6:00 AM start.  A nice round number.  A easy marker for my entire trip.  But I was early.  I was also eager so I got my gas a little early and the trip officially started off at 5:47 AM EST. My bike odometer read 66102.  (Please realize that a motorcycle odometer is like a reasonably good guess at distance traveled.  The GPS keeps track far more accurately.  But the 50CC riding log rules asks for mileage on the bike so I’m going to use my bike’s odometer readings for the rest of this report.)

It is really important to say that a 50CC is a challenge but it is certainly NOT a race.  The Iron Butt Association wants nothing to do with speed demons or unsafe motorcycle riding!  Neither do I.  The challenging rides can all be done with planning, persistence, and determination.  As you read in the prologue, I hadn’t done much planning but I had plenty of determination.  (They also don’t tell you that you need plenty of money to do this stuff.  I’m a little short on that so this was going to be a budget 50CC.)

Locked, Loaded, and Ready to leave Folly Beach, SC

I headed from Folly Beach back toward Charleston to get on I-26 toward Columbia.  I paid special attention once again to the turn I had missed during my practice run (by turning too quickly)….so much attention that this time I missed it by not realizing that I needed to turn right where I was supposed to turn right.  I rode right past it.  So much for paying attention.  There wasn’t much traffic at that time during the day so I made a quick U-turn and smiled at the irony that I had already messed up what was going to become a very long ride.

I-26 was a nice ride.  Speed limits seemed like nice suggestions to the drivers around me so I just paid attention to what I was doing and tried not to be a problem to anyone else.  I like ride reports mainly for the narrative rather than the pictures which is great since I didn’t take much time to take any pictures on this trip.

Navigation wasn’t going to be much of a problem either.  I-26 to I-20 to I-10 to I-8 isn’t all that complicated.  I just sat back and enjoyed the scenery.  I also let my mind wander wherever it chose to go.  As usual, when I’m riding through this part of the country I find myself thinking a lot about the Civil War and the on-going battle for civil rights.  Or, as I prefer to think about it, creating a world where people see and treat one another from the same perspective as the God who made them all.

My plan called for 14 fuel stops, each at +/- 180 miles.  You’ll notice that I got pretty close to that throughout the ride.  That just made sense to me.  It would minimize stress and keep my record of never running out of gas intact.

Gas Stop – Graniteville, SC – 8:21 AM EST – 192 miles – 02:34 hr/min total time

I was already appreciating my choice of crossing via I-20 vs. I-10.  I knew it would add a couple of hundred miles to the distance but it was worth it.  The views were beautiful.  I’m always amazed at how many trees there are in the southeast.

Gas Stop – Villa Rica, GA – 11:04 AM EST – 182 miles – 05:17 hr/min total time

At this point, the ride was going great.  The bike was running like a sewing machine.  I was comfortable and just chewing up the miles.  My gas stops were like clockwork.  I was sticking to my routine and I hadn’t made any more mistakes.

I don’t know what I expect to see when I pass through places like Alabama and Mississippi but I’m always surprised at their beauty…and I’m equally surprised by the thoughts that I think.  I’m not really a NASCAR fan but I know that I’m riding through serious NASCAR territory.  I-20 passes right by the Talladega Speedway.  Too cool.

The one averted tragedy of this leg happened as I was tooling through Birmingham.  My mind was dancing around all of the stories I remembered about this city.  The traffic was flying through town.  All of a sudden, the car in front of me swerved to the left and ran over what I assume to be someone’s drive shaft which was laying in the middle of the center lane of the freeway.

Those are among the many moments you hate to have when you are on a motorcycle.  Fortunately, I remembered two very important lessons.  First, don’t look AT the obstacle that just appeared in your path, look at the ESCAPE ROUTE you can see around it.  And second, put forward pressure on the side of the handlebars where you want to go.  Just that quick, those thoughts came into my mind as I did exactly that.  And I just about completely missed it…I winced as I felt my front tire just barely touch it.

I waited for the sickening feeling of losing air in your front tire to happen…but it didn’t.  “Thank you God” crossed my mind as I flew on down the road.

Gas Stop – Fosters, AL – 12:44 PM CST – 184 miles – 07:57 hr/min total time

On into Mississippi.  It was fun to spell that state when I was a kid.  I thought I was something once I learned it.  I was listening exclusively to country western music on the trip as that was all I had on my iPod and I didn’t take time to create any special playlists.  I kept thinking about Johnny and June singing about Jackson.

Gas Stop – Clinton, MS – 3:23 PM CST – 185 miles – 10:36 hr/min total time

Traffic was steady all along I-20 but it wasn’t anything like I-10.  I’ve been down this road before but not often so it all felt new to me.  I was excited about getting back into Louisiana because it was that much closer to Texas.  Most of the time it just felt like I was riding through a green tunnel of trees.  I kept my speed to the limit +4 so I wasn’t feeling the stress of looking for LEO’s (that’s law enforcement officers.)  The ride was going good.

Gas Stop – Minden, LA – 5:58 PM CST – 181 miles – 13:11 hr/min total time

I finally crossed over the Texas state line.  As I expected, the highway instantly improved.  Texas sure does value its roadways!  I was starting to get a little tired at this point, just riding steady for over 13 hours will do that to you.  But getting back to Texas felt good.  For awhile.  Longview, TX, was one of my time checkpoints.  As you can see, my goal was to get there by 9:45 PM. I killed that.  But then it occurred to me how much farther I had to go.  Yikes!

I stopped for gas just before heading through the Dallas metroplex.  Since it was getting dark and I had a long way to go, I decided to replenish my Monster/Water cocktail.  Before the trip started I had purchased four cans of Monster, thinking that I would drink two each day of the ride.  I opened my top case and reached for my second can of the day.  My heart dropped as I felt how light it was and realized that it had exploded somewhere along the way.  Everything in my top case was covered with the sticky remains of 16 oz. of sugary energy drink!  YUCK!  But I didn’t have time to do anything about it so I just grabbed the next can and headed into the gas station for more ice.

Gas Stop – Terrell, TX – 8:28 PM CST – 186 miles – 15:41 hr/min total time

A person’s mind is a fascinating thing.  On a challenging ride like this one you have to be prepared for your mind to play tricks on you.  For me, passing through the Dallas metroplex was hard.  The traffic was heavy and just confusing enough.  The rules say that trucks aren’t allowed in the left lane but that doesn’t stop Mr. Dually Pickup with his 20 mule team horse trailer from flying down the fast lane at 57 mph.  I saw the signs for I-45 south to Houston and gave brief consideration to all the time and money I would save if I just turned and headed home.

But I don’t quit so I just focused on avoiding all the cars and trucks around me and looked forward to what I hoped would be a quiet highway on the other side of Fort Worth.

Gas Stop – Baird, TX – 11:44 PM CST – 201 miles – 18:57 hr/min total time

And Tuesday morning came at some point along the way...

I stopped at a Love’s truck stop in Baird, TX for gas. The rules of the 50CC are very specific.  You need a gas receipt at every stop that clearly states the time, the date, and the location of the place where you get gas.  This didn’t happen at this stop.  For some reason, this particular station only chose to list the Love’s station number.  So I went in and asked the clerk if she had a location business card with their address on it.  Of course they didn’t have that.  It was nearly midnight.  I was clearly tired after 19 hours on the road and I didn’t have time to go hunting for another option so I took the receipt as it was and will later hope for mercy from the Iron Butt ride proof texters.

I was a bit disappointed in that I had always heard about how desolate it was around Midland and Odessa, TX, but I have never seen it in the daylight.  Kenny and I rode out that way on our SS1000 ride but we turned off I-20 at Big Spring and never got as far as Midland.  Here I was in the territory yet again but I couldn’t see anything beyond my own lights.

The deserted road I was hoping for – like my nighttime ride through Florida just two days before - didn’t happen.  If I wasn’t coming up on yet another 18 wheeler I was being passed like I was standing still by somebody in a service truck.  It was dark out and I was seriously wishing I had auxiliary lights instead of just improved lights.

Then I hit road construction. I slowed down far enough to clearly feel in control which worked for me but not so much for the 18 wheelers that were now regularly passing me.  So, with deep gratitude, I approached Odessa and then tragedy struck again.

I missed the first exit which promised a gas station but I figured I would be OK.  I had been on reserve for awhile and I didn’t want to push my luck too far so I took the “Grandview” exit.  The first two gas stations I came to were closed so I stopped and punched “Fuel” into the GPS and followed it to a Stripes gas station.  Surely that would be open!  But it wasn’t.  The pumps were lit up but the store was closed.

So I decided to try the pumps anyway.  They worked!  I filled my tank and, when I was done, pushed the button to get a receipt.  It said “Printing your receipt” and then it said “Receipt below” but the pump was obviously out of paper because no receipt appeared.

This is disaster on a cert ride.  Gas receipts are everything!  So once again, for the second time in Texas, I knew I would be falling at the mercy of the proof texters.  I took a picture of the gas pump and then made my way back to i-20.

But, of course, with the road construction there was no longer a working on ramp to I-20.  Instead I was directed to another road on the wrong side of the highway.  I followed that for a mile or two when I came across another Love’s station next to a highway on ramp.  I stopped at Love’s to buy a bottle of water…just to prove that I had been in town, and off I headed west into the darkness.  I sure hate to think that my ride won't be approved because someone forgot to fill the receipt paper before closing time.  (Or that I forgot that I could splashed a little more gas in at the Love's.)

Gas Stop – Odessa, TX – 2:56 AM CST – 198 miles – 22:09 hr/min total time
 

Gratefully I left Odessa in my rearview mirror and then, less than 10 miles out of town, it started raining!  Raining in desert West Texas!  I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t enough to make me drag out my rain gear but it was enough to make me start looking for a place to rest.

Rest Stop – Ward County Rest Area – 4:00 AM to 5:51 AM CST

I got to the Ward County Rest Area and, tired though I was after nearly 24 hours of straight riding, my crazy mind questioned my rationale for stopping.  I actually missed the road into the rest area because I was second guessing myself.  THAT was a serious warning sign to me so I went IN the OUT door and found a place to park.

What happened next is affectionately referred to as sleeping in the “Iron Butt hotel.”  I do this at least once on every long ride and actually I like to do it.  It feels adventurous to me. And it is the one way in my life that I ever can feel some sense of solidarity with homeless people.  I lock up my bike, take my tank bag with me as a pillow, find a picnic table, lay down on the ground next to it, and fall asleep.  I set the alarm on my phone to sleep for an hour and did exactly that.

An hour later I woke up feeling pretty good.  I started getting ready to get back on the bike when I realized my cell phone was down to 4% of battery left.  That was not going to be a good thing.  But luckily, I had a 12 volt charging thing in my top case into which I had already plugged my USB phone charging cable.  I plugged my phone in and listened for the little tone that would tell me that it was charging.  No tone.  I pulled out the USB thing only to realize that a good deal of my exploded Monster drink had made its way into there and my charger was no longer an operational component of my motorcycle.

So I resorted to plan B.  I got out my wall charger and headed to the rest room.  I found a place to charge my phone and laid down on the floor for another 30 minutes of rest.  Afterwards, feeling as recharged as my phone, I headed back to the bike and back on down the road.

With some degree of accomplishment mixed with relief, I got to the intersection of I-20 and I-10 and finally felt like I was really heading west.

Dear old Texas was not very kind to me on this trip!

Gas Stop – Van Horn, TX – 7:23 AM – 167 miles – 26:36 hr/min total time

While I knew that leaving early would help me make it through Atlanta after rush hour I also knew that I would pay the price later on down the road.  I did pay that price as I rolled into the morning rush hour in El Paso.  That might not have been so bad but they are replacing a major bridge on the interstate so all traffic got diverted off the main lanes.  Which was a major pain. 

On I rolled through El Paso, ever mindful that Mexico was just off to my left, the powers that be long ago having made the arbitrary decision that the Rio Grande would not be just a river but a border.  The children who are born on both sides have no say in the matter but what a difference a few yards do make.

As the sun continued to rise, so did the temperature.  I had put my leather jacket on to sleep at the rest area and I kept it on through El Paso but I was already looking forward to taking it off at the next gas stop.  The west Texas winds were helping me so I rode a few extra miles before my stop in New Mexico.

Gas Stop – Akela Flats, NM – 9:17 AM MST – 206 miles – 29:30 hr/min total time

I really love riding through the desert.  Those are the scenes, those initial ride scenes, that always stick with me from “Easy Rider.”  It helps me appreciate how nice it was for those two bikers to come across the crew that invited them for a swim.  Little did I know just how much I would want that same swim in just a couple more hours.

Not long after passing into Arizona you come to a place that says “Texas Canyon.”  It is one of my favorite places along I-10.  It feels like the land of the Flintstones with the huge boulders and rock formations.  If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I would have taken pictures.  So I took lots of mental snapshots and rolled on through.

I stopped for gas in Benson not realizing that I was going to see what I was going to see.  The guy who pulled into the gas pump right behind me had done what I believe to be the most creative packing the truck job I have ever seen.  Just get a load of this guy's load!

Here's an aside:  On the way back to Houston, I believe it was also in Arizona, maybe even Benson again...I'll admit that I was a little punchy...but I saw my first electric car recharging station in my life.  Believing this is likely to have something to do with the future, I took a picture.

Gas Stop – Benson, AZ – 11:17 AM PST – 198 miles – 32:30 hr/min total time
 

After Tucson, but before Phoenix, I headed off on I-8.  At first, that feels like the road that time forgot, especially if you are heading west.  A two lane ribbon of asphalt covered with tar streaks, it feels like the road used to be important until everybody forgot it was there.  And man did it start to get hot!  HOT kind of hot!  I don’t care if you call it a dry heat or what you call it but all I know is that the only way to experience it would be to preheat your oven at home to 400 degrees, wait 30 minutes, and then just crawl in.

Here is where the cooling vest is really a safety requirement.  Once I got to Gila Bend I went into the bathroom and soaked my shirt and vest in water.  I put on full fingered gloves, the thin liners you wear inside your winter gloves.  I reapplied my sunscreen and I thanked God for my modular full face helmet.  Then I just hunkered down and took the best that the desert could throw my way.

Gas Stop – Gila Bend, AZ – 1:55 PM PST – 166 miles – 35:08 hr/min total time

Notice, mind you, that I was riding through the desert in the hottest part of the 115 degree day.  But yes, it was a dry heat. A blistering “you have got to be kidding me!” kind of dry heat.  And yes, like my Mom always told me if I swallowed a marble, this too will pass.  And it did.

At some point along the way you pass a sign that says “Agua Caliente Road”. I remember seeing that and my fever blistered mind thought, “I think that is Spanish for ‘No Shit Lane’!”  Then came California.  Still more desert and still more heat but one more step closer to the goal.

Gas Stop – El Centro, CA – 4:56 PM PST – 181 miles – 38:09 hr/min total time

I don’t know how to describe the final stages of I-8 over the mountains of central California on into San Diego.  I suppose the locals all take it for granted but for me it was mile after mile of amusement park riding.  Absolutely thrilling.  You climb and climb and swoop down and around.  The cars around you are flying so the best you can do is just keep up.

I rode hard, keeping my RPM’s up and letting my engine do the brake work as I flew with everybody else around the big swooping curves.  The only bad thing was that, somewhere around El Centro, I caught a bug in my right eye and I was having a little trouble seeing.  And yes, I was riding straight into the quickly setting sun.  But even that couldn’t take away the thrill of that road. Loved it!

Then it was gravy time.  I had dialed the address for my target gas station into my GPS long before getting to California.  Ocean Beach Shell, 4794 Voltaire, San Diego, CA.  It was an address I had noted a couple of years ago while reading someone else’s ride report.  I have no idea how I got there.  I just followed the turns.  

I also have no idea how anyone gets anywhere around San Diego without a GPS!  I followed the turns, followed the signs as best as I could see them, and the next thing you know, I pulled up at a nondescript gas pump at a corner gas station and I had arrived!

Final Stop – Ocean Beach, San Diego, CA – 6:57 PM PST – 120 miles – 40:10 hr/min total time

I pumped my gas, got my receipt, logged my stop, and then called Kelley to share the good news.  It felt a little weird to feel a sense of accomplishment after doing something as foolish as riding across the United States just to know that you had done it.  But it felt good.

Kelley helped me figure out where I would be spending the night and the next day.  I wanted a Best Western with a swimming pool and I got it.  But first, there was a little matter of collecting some sand and water from the Pacific.

I got back onto Voltaire and followed it a few blocks down to the parking lot next to the beach.  I rolled in and parked next to two women who were packing up to leave for the day.  I asked them for help – one to show me how to get to the beach and the other to watch my stuff.  I have no idea who they were but they were very kind and I had my ocean in a bottle.  Then it was off to the hotel where I treated myself by ordering a delivery pizza.  I slept like the dead.

The Morning After

The rules of the 50CC require that you get a witness at both the beginning and the end of the ride.  The first choice is a police officer.  Or you can ask for a local member of the Iron Butt Association to be your witness.  If you are able to do it during business hours, you can ask the employees at the San Diego BMW motorcycle shop.  But the preferred choice is a police officer.

I hated that.  Police officers are busy.  I dreaded finding an officer and asking for her time but I knew it had to be done.  Since it didn’t have to be done immediately, I decided to do it the morning after I arrived in San Diego.  My plan was to ride back to the gas station, plug “Police” into my GPS, and hope to find someone sitting behind a desk to accommodate me.  I texted Kelley and told her that I was off to find a cop.

I pulled out of my motel onto the feeder road and, SERIOUSLY, just two driveways down, a San Diego police car pulled out in front of me!  I rode up beside him at the next stop sign and asked him through his window for a few minutes of his time.  The next thing you know, my witness form was signed and my ride was officially over.

I spent a little time riding around San Diego.  I stopped by the Harley shop where my bike was serviced back when I was on the Four Corners tour.  And then I went back to the motel to spend the afternoon by the swimming pool, beginning to write down my ride report for this blog and organizing my stuff to send into the IBA.

Thursday morning I slept in, took my sweet time getting loaded up, and headed back to Texas.  I spent the night in Van Horn and rode on back to Houston on Friday.  I got home about 8:45 PM, a few minutes past one week since the thought occurred to me that maybe I could try and ride across the United States in two days.

Mission accomplished.  If I have to explain it, then you just wouldn’t understand….

And for you engineers:
     Total trip: 5306 miles
     50CC:  2547 miles
     Average speed on 50CC: 63.4 mph
     Average gas mileage:  35 mpg

Who Does This? Prologue to the 50CC Ride Report

WARNING:  This is Part 1 of a VERY long ride report. There, you’ve been warned.  Don’t complain later.

I. love. reading. ride. reports.  I do. Sometimes when I have the morning off and I’m sitting out on the patio with my iPad I just lose myself reading about the biking adventures other people have taken.  I love them.  Especially the kind of report that I am going to post here.  This will be the kind that I like – LONG, full of helpful tidbits of information that I may or may not incorporate in my own adventures.  The only pictures I really care about are those that include the writer and their bike.  I like to imagine who I am reading about.

Recently I posted a question on the email list of the Iron Butt Association.  (You get a membership number in that organization when you complete one of their certified rides.   That put me on their list and it has cost me a lot of money as I have followed various suggestions I have found there.)  Anyway, a guy I only know as Brian from Austin wrote back.  Now HE can write a ride report. Click here to read a great one.

So, eventually, I’ll get around to my ride report from my 50CC. In the meantime...

Setting the Stage 

This past Friday I got home from a few days in Big Bend National Park.  My Harley had been in the shop getting a 10,000 mile service and a new stator.  It had almost brand new tires on it since I was planning a trip to Wyoming and Colorado….that didn’t happen.  As soon as I got home I went and picked up the Harley.

Later that night I was sitting on my chair when I shared with Kelley a thought that I had on the drive home from the park.  We were planning on spending a week in Arkansas, trailering a bike, riding around a bit, etc.  Kelley had work to do so she was planning on working at the hotel during the day while I was out riding.  I was having second thoughts about that.

I love Kelley and I love spending time with Kelley.  But when it comes to motorcycles, I like to ride.  Ride, ride, and ride.  Some guys like to putter around from here to there, stopping to look at antique stores, drinking coffee in small out of the way diners.  Other guys like to bar hop.  I like to ride.  So if Kelley is going, I want us to spend our time riding – I don’t want to leave her behind in a hotel.  So I thought about doing a 50CC instead.

It was 8:30 PM when I shared my thoughts with her.  “I think I would rather do a 50CC” was all it took.  “Do it!” she said.  She knows what this means to me.  She knows me.  She loves me.  I love her too.  So I grabbed the laptop and did the math.

The 50CC is one of the certified rides of the Iron Butt Association. It requires riding from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean (or vice versa) in 50 hours or less.  Thus 50 (hours) CC (coast to coast.)  The certification basically means you have proof that you did it in the form of a cheap certificate, a pin, maybe a patch you can sew on your riding gear, and, if you want, a license plate holder from the IBA.  Frankly, I can’t remember what you get – you don’t actually get it, you have to pay for it – but there had recently been a conversation going on the email list about sending in the information to certify rides and I was in the mood.

Like many people who love to ride long distances on motorcycles, I have done plenty of them without sending in the paperwork.  Long before I knew anything about the IBA, when I was in college I rode my 1973 Honda CB750 from college out to Conway, WA via Casper, WY, Salt Lake City, and Portland.  I just reconstructed that ride using Mapquest in three minutes.  2739 miles.  Here it is:

I did it the first week of May.  I had to head south just before Billings because a guy came into the rest stop bathroom where I was trying to wring out my socks and warm up told me that the pass on I-90 had been closed due to a blizzard.  I had NO motorcycle gear other than a helmet.  I wore hiking boots.  A football practice raincoat over a winter coat over my letterman’s jacket.  I had clothes in a duffle bag tied to my sissy bar with rope. I started each day by adjusting my chain.  I broke 16 spokes at some point in Wyoming and had to limp into a Honda shop in Rock Springs to buy some.  I had next to no money.  It was a glorious trip!

The last leg (note that I had no money) was non-stop from Twin Falls, ID to my dad’s place in Washington.  Mapquest just told me that leg was 785 miles.  I slept for awhile on a picnic table between Portland and Seattle because it was raining and I was exhausted.  But I did it and it was wonderful. On a 1973 CB750!

BTW, I consider a “non-stop” trip one that is not broken by spending a night camping or sleeping in a motel.  When I rode to the six farthest corners of the United States it was a 14,500 mile trip but only the end, the last leg, is what I consider a non-stop trip (from San Diego to Brownsville, TX, to Houston.)  That was my previous record, 1,954 miles. That was my certified Bun Burner Gold.

I didn’t certify the first SS1000 (1,000 miles in 24 hours) ride I did with a couple of friends of mine but I did send in the paperwork for the one I did with Kenny.  I once rode non-stop home from Durango, CO, on my Goldwing.  At the end of the Hoka Hey, on my way home, my last leg was nonstop from Cheyenne, WY.  My sense is that many members of the Iron Butt Associate take most long rides just because they is what they like to do to get from here to there but they seldom do a “cert” ride on purpose.  But sometimes you get the urge to do one of those too.

Still Friday night

I started by googling the rules.  Simple.  Find a starting spot and an end goal.  Get to the start.  Get a little bottle of sand/water.  Find a police officer to serve as a starting (and later, find another officer at the end) witness.  Keep gas receipts and log the ride.  Simple.  I ran over to church so I could print off the required witness report and ride log. (I actually have a ride log form that I have used for the past certified rides I’ve done but I don’t have a printer at home.)

The easiest way to get a sense of a long ride is to use the Internet.  There are lots of programs out there to do that.  I’m no expert and don’t care to become one.  I used to do this with paper maps and I still begin dreaming of rides using my Harley Davidson Ride Atlas of North America.  On the computer I use Mapquest because it is so simple to do what I want.

Mapquest told me that it was 871 miles to Jacksonville and 1470 miles to San Diego. That would be a 2341 mile ride, straight down I-10.  Boring but it has been done many times.  It is the easiest route.  I’ve thought about doing it many times.  I told Kelley that I was going to do it.  Done.  Time for bed.

Saturday morning.

I got up on Saturday morning and started loading up for the trip.  In the kind of excruciating detail that I love in the ride reports I read, I’m going to tell you all about it.  I have read many stories where people spent weeks plotting and planning and preparing.  Good for them.  I got up on Saturday morning and started loading my bike for a ride I had decided to do the night before. 

I’ll start with my bike.  I ride a 2010 Harley Davidson Ultra Classic Limited.  It had 64,890 miles on it that morning.  Like most Harley owners, I bought it and changed it immediately, adding this or that for this or that reason.  But here are the essentials for riding long distances.  In no particular order because I think they are all essential.  

A Russell Day Long Seat.  I wrote about this seat in another post on this blog. It has revolutionized my riding and I will never have another bike without one.  Anything else is not as good.  You can bet your life the V-Strom will have one as soon as the “factory” (basically a really nice guy in a very small upholstery shop in Lake Shasta, CA) has time in his schedule to make one.   

Ape hanger handlebars.  I used to get a terrible pain in my neck and upper shoulders when I would ride all day.  My hands were too low.  I don’t have the kind of handlebars that put your hands high above your head, just those that put your hands at the level of your shoulders (or as close as I can get since my seat now has me 4 inches higher.)  If you don’t ride a Harley, put risers on your handlebars but you will still suffer.  I don’t suffer.  

A big tank bag that attaches magnetically to my gas tank.  I know Harley guys scoff at sport bike riders with huge bags on their gas tanks but they don’t realize what they are missing. Mine has a map holder in which I put my ride plan. (I’ll share that below.) Two zippered compartments on the sides. (on the left side I put my tracker, lip balm, little flashlight, etc. and on the right I put my phone, wallet, iPod, and whatever.)  But the kicker in the big compartment where I keep a 100 oz. Camelbak of ice water, apples (I require those for long rides), sunflower seeds, beef jerky and protein bars (required to balance the blood sugar after eating apples.)  

GPS, hardwired to the bike.  Yes, there are people who use their phones or GPS units designed for cars.  The problem with those is that my phone gets too hot when it is in direct sunlight and the car GPS units are unreadable in direct sunlight.  A hardwired GPS is expensive but it is wonderful.  I don’t like following a GPS for a motorcycle ride, that isn’t why I have one.  I have one so I can always know how far to the next gas station, or the next rest area, or the closest Best Western.  Today (I’m still in San Diego and I’m writing this by the hotel pool, very nice) I needed to go some places in town.  I just dial it in and go.  I love getting lost on strange roads back home and just keeping “Go Home” dialed in.  When the arrival time equals when I want to get home, I start following the purple line.  You can ride anywhere without a GPS but I love having one.  That’s why I bought a mount for the V-Strom and hardwired it in so I can just swap the GPS between bikes.  

A DeLorme Inreach Explorer tracker.  Lots of people use SPOT trackers too. While you are away, loved ones can keep track of you.  When you get home, you have a record of your ride.  I can always use Mapquest to reconstruct old rides but nothing gives me more peace of mind than knowing I am giving Kelley peace of mind by knowing where I am. It is expensive (the SPOT is cheaper) but it allows me to send text messages to her when I’m out of cell coverage.  That was VERY important on my 50CC ride…which I will eventually get to…  

Back Support.  I don’t have a backrest on my seat and I would hate to have one.  It is hard enough to swing my foot over it when getting on and off without a built in backrest but I require back support for long rides.  I have a T-Bag that I fill with the stuff I want in a motel room and enough extra stuff that insures that I have the cushion I need. I put it on the seat behind me and attach it with two bungee cords that take literally two seconds to hook.  

Improved lighting.  I would say “auxiliary lighting” if I had it but I don’t.  What I do have is improved lighting.  I improved my lighting with HID lights that are better than stock but they still aren’t as good as they need to be. I suffered with them on this trip.  I will have auxiliary lighting for my next trip that requires me to ride through the night!  

Cruise control.  I list this last because, if you don’t have a bike with electronic cruise control then I feel sorry for you.  Your only option is some kind of throttle lock.  I’ve never had a Kaoko throttle lock (the V-Strom will get one before too long) but nothing I have tried thus far has worked.  For me, in my truck or on my bike, I have no personal interest in being responsible for maintaining my speed.  I suck at it.  I think too much and slow down. I listen to the wrong music and speed up.  I hate twisting my leg in my truck and being forced to keep it in one position and I hate holding my right hand on the throttle constantly on a motorcycle.  HATE IT.  I use my cruise control constantly.  

Anyway, that’s pretty much it for the bike.  Since it is already set up for me, and since I had just picked it up after being serviced, I didn’t have to do anything to it to be ready for a 50CC.

Equally important…stuff for me and my body…

I CANNOT say enough good things about LDComfort shorts, shirts, and socks.  I learned about that stuff from the Iron Butt email list and bought everything for a long ride I took around the country.  Prior to buying their riding shorts I ALWAYS suffered from a common biker affliction known as “monkey butt.”  I remember years ago, riding home from Cape Hatteras National Seashore on my Goldwing, when I developed the worst rash I’ve had “down there” in my life.  It was horrible!  Years later, anticipating another long ride, Kelley suggested that I use baby wipes at every gas stop.  It worked.  Now I always wear LDComfort shorts when I ride and I have no problem.

Since I can wear black shirts as my “uniform” in my job I have taken to wearing the LDComfort zip mock turtle neck shirts just about every day in the cooler months of the year.  I was thinking about cutting a slit in one so I can wear my white plastic power tab on occasion but Kelley drew the line against that one.

I DO wear the black socks every day of the year.  Exclusively.  (Except for golf where I wear the little white ones.)  When we are invited to a fancy shindig I wear my LDComfort black socks with my black suit.  I even wear them with my gray suit.  I just pretend I’m President Bush having a bad day.  If you want to ride long, wear LDComfort stuff.  Period.

For boots, I wear Sidi On Road Goretex boots.  They were very expensive but are worth every penny.  100% waterproof!  They have NEVER leaked on me.  They are reasonably comfortable to just walk around in but I reserve them for really long rides.  I know, when I leave the house, I won’t be wearing anything else for however long I get to ride.

Since you will be likely riding through the desert at some point, I think that some type of chiller vest is required.  I have one like this (click here).  It a wasn’t very expensive and I keep in rolled up in my saddlebags all summer long.  You just soak it in water, wear it over your LDComfort shirt, with or without a well ventilated jacket over both, and you are riding in air conditioning between gas stops.  I think it is a must.

That’s pretty much it for that.  I wear blue jeans, boots, and LDComfort stuff.  I use sunscreen for my face and Chapstick for my lips (which never works) but I don’t have to worry about sunburn anymore with the long sleeves.  I have Harley rain gear and ALL of my cold weather stuff in my saddlebags (that stays in there all year).  I bring my camera, iPod, some CD’s.

Here’s the important part for a certified ride:  I have a three ring binder that fits in my topcase.  In it I print out my ride log and my witness forms, both available with the rules for the 50CC, on heavy card stock paper.  I put them in a thin 3 ring binder.  I also have a pencil case that clips into that binder to hold my pen and receipts.

At every gas stop I follow a strict routine.  This is important as it insures that you don’t forget something.  Some people actually print out a checklist but a routine works for me.  Here’s what I do:

·      When I pull into a gas station I look for a shaded pump where the sun won’t blind me as I read my odometer and write in my log.

·      If Mother Nature is absolutely insistent I take care of that first, otherwise I take care of business, leave my bike where it is, and take care of that later.

·      I read my odometer, then zero out my A tripmeter. I AWAYS use my A tripmeter to keep track of miles between fuel stops.  I use the B tripmeter to keep track of miles between oil changes.  I don’t trust the gas gauge on my or any motorcycle.  For the 50CC I planned on getting gas around 180 miles as often as possible.  More on that later.

·      I take out my log and record my odometer mileage.

·      I use my debit card to pay for the gas.  I always have three cards ready to go in case I get the dreaded “See Cashier” code because of the diligence of my bank’s fraud division.  This trip I had already dealt with my bank and warned them that I would be all over the place during my vacation…but only after I got the dreaded “See Cashier” code in Alpine and had to call them.

·      After filling my tank I WAIT until I see the “Would you like a receipt?” message BEFORE putting the pump handle away.  If you don’t do that, you will miss the chance to get a receipt at the pump, you’ll have to wait in a long line to talk to the cashier, and it will frustrate you.  Just wait.

·      When I get the receipt, then I go to my log.  I use a Word log template instead of what they show you on the IBA website so I have numbered lines waiting for my entries.  I NUMBER my receipt and I put the mileage number on it.

·      In my log I put in the local time from the receipt, checking to make sure that there isn’t a huge problem.  That happens but usually the time stamp on the receipt is either right or close enough.  For the location, I just enter the basics (e.g. Van Horn, TX) as I will transfer the complete information later from the actual receipts when I prepare to send my information in for the certification.

·      I put the receipt into the pencil bag and the log back into my top case.

·      Then I take out my phone since my DeLorme Inreach has a phone app, and I enter a waypoint for that gas stop, numbering them as I go so I have that record as well.

·      Then I’m ready – if need be – to go into the station to buy water, food, take care of business, etc.

·      On several gas stops during the 50CC I never did anything beyond what happened at the pump.  My goal is always less than 10 minutes at a gas stop.

Having a plan like this to keep track of what is required for certification is really helpful.  For my first attempt at a SS1000 I just put receipts into my wallet.  They were a mess.  I learned my lesson.

I also brought my laptop, iPad, and the thing I have to keep all of the charging cables and such in order.

Off to Florida

A goodbye kiss and I was off.  This trip wasn’t very complicated.  Go east on I-10 until it ends.  I planned on doing what so many others do, cross the country from Jacksonville, FL to San Diego, CA.  At 9:45 AM or so, I was off.

People complain a lot (rightly) about Houston traffic.  It is bad and getting worse.  Houston is poised to soon pass Chicago as the 3^rd largest city in the United States.  But the roads aren’t complicated and I-10 is plenty wide.  I never feel like I am really leaving town when I head east until I get to the Baytown exit (on the west side it isn’t until I pass Brookshire) but I know to prepare for what comes next.  What comes next is chaos.

From Houston to Lake Charles, LA on a motorcycle on I-10 is basically a crude game of Survivor.  I suppose you could hug the right lane and just take your medicine but who does that?  On this bumpy chunk of road, the best way to do it is keep up without being the sorry soul that got stopped by the trooper. Mostly people just roar along, all frustrated by the tour bus that hogs the fast lane, or the jerk in the white Ford who is talking on his cell phone while holding up a line of three dozen cars.  I flew low on into Louisiana.

The first time it hit was just before Baton Rouge.  They have been working on I-10 in Louisiana since the week after Napoleon sold it to President Jefferson. What totally sucks is the lack of provision for alternate lanes.  Traffic just stops.  And thus it stopped, leaving me to bake from the heat of 1700 cc’s of V-Twin between my thighs, not to mention the thousands of other cars on the road on a Saturday. 

It happened again on I-12 between Baton Rouge and Slidell.  BTW, “Baton Rouge” is a French word that refers to the color of one’s unmentionable due to sitting on the freaking freeway going ZERO miles per hour FOREVER.

That’s when I started thinking about the nine people shot at the Mother Emanuel AME church in Charleston. 

On Friday night, after I decided to do this ride and before we were ready to go to bed, I checked my email.  I had been ignoring email for the week that I was on vacation. I saw the plans going back and forth for how we at Faith Lutheran would be remembering this latest senseless loss of life due to the wicked combination of readily available guns and seriously distorted ideas filling the brain of an otherwise unremarkable young person.

Our bishop had sent out a video of Pastor Pinckney that I had watched Friday night.  He was a gifted leader and exactly the kind of person with the style and vision to make a powerfully good difference in the world.

I imagined what it would be like at Faith Lutheran Church if I, along with Pastor Junfeng Tan, and seven other key beloved members of our congregation were shot to death at an evening Bible study.  I can’t imagine how painful that would be and how long the pain of that memory would last.

So I sat there in line on I-12 and decided two things.  I don’t have it so bad right now.  I’m not like those truckers with deadlines or those families with little kids in a hot van.  I’m on vacation!  And I decided that I would start my 50CC from Charleston rather than Jacksonville.  In the wider scheme of things, that means nothing.  To me, it meant something.

After far too long of just sitting there, turning the bike off, starting it back up, being polite, inching forward, I went against the grain of my character, hit the shoulder, and got to an exit that I knew would take me to Gause Road and allow me to make some forward progress.

The I-12 speedway

Soon I rode past the church where I made the biggest mistake of my short tenure of working for our bishop in our synod office.  I had some bad background stuff going on in my life, I was in a horrible mood, and I took my frustrations out on the wonderful little group of people trying their dead level best to be the church under the challenging circumstances of life in Slidell.  I gave them one of the worst sermons I have preached in my life.  Yuck.

I got down to the interstate and saw the traffic was just as bad there so I decided to find a back road.  I stayed on Gause until my GPS invited me in search of wild geese through a pleasant neighborhood that I hope to never visit again.  Back again on Gause I turned east and followed a taxi into a gas station.  That’s where, for the first time (I’ll get to the other) a good idea turned into a bad time.

After I checked with the taxi driver to make sure that I knew where I was going, and after I had filled up with gas, I went into the store to get more ice into my Camelbak.  As I got a large bottle of water it occurred to me that my son loves these over priced Monster energy drinks.  I thought, “I wonder if that might help?”  So I gave it a shot.

$3.99, gulp, for a big old can of the green stuff.  I poured it into the Camelbak and filled the rest of the space with water.  I thought that cutting it might help.  I went back out to the bike, stuffed the Camelbak into the tank bag and started putting on my gloves and helmet.  As I sat on the bike I noticed liquid running down on my tank.

Yes, I had failed to fully secure the screw top on the Camelbak and, when I squished it into place, I had squished wet sticky crap over everything in it.  Everything came out.  The water I had left became rinsing water rather than drinking water and I learned another life lesson.

Down Gause to Military and eventually I was on 190 – the old highway before the interstate.  For 20 minutes or so I got to enjoy the kind of motorcycle road that I like.    Up close and personal rather than the detached sense you always have on the interstate.  Eventually I cut back over to the main road and I was trucking down I-10.

Not much to say about the rest of the trip to Charleston except for two things.

There are only two good things about interstate highways and motorcycling.  If you are in a hurry to get from point A to point B, you can’t do better than the super slab.  And if you have to ride at night, they are great.  They are safer.  Gas stops are plentiful and often open 24 hours.  They provide a buffer against the ditch rats that might ruin your day. At night, with those reflector things built into the white line, it is flying down a runway.

The traffic thinned way down once I got to Florida.  Soon, I started feeling hungry for real food.  Here’s what I mean by “real food” on a motorcycle trip.

I’m not a foodie.  Many people who ride motorcycles are.  They will ride 500 miles to have BBQ in Kansas City.  Kelley is a foodie.  Earlier this year, on our way home in the truck from North Dakota, she handled the in-motion internet duties in looking up the best places to eat BBQ on our way home.  I’m not that way.

For me, the ideal real food on a motorcycle trip is purchased at a diner connected to a truck stop that has been there forever.  My waitress is named Marge, or Madge, or Kitty and she’s worked there since high school.  She calls me “Darlin’” and never lets my coffee cup get empty.  At the end of the meal, I will tip her $10 regardless of the price of the meal.  The food – usually the biggest breakfast item on the menu so that I can have plenty of protein to cancel out the sugar from the apples and other stuff I eat on the bike – is inconsequential.  I also like gas station hot dogs.

Speaking of coffee, I love coffee.  I have a bad habit of refilling my travel mug at every gas stop.  That is fine for having something other than water to drink for the 50 miles that it remains drinkable but it is DISASTROUS on a long certified ride that requires you to ride into the night.  It will result in the most INSISTENT and FREQUENT needs to stop that you have ever experienced.  Trust me.  Even though I knew that, I experienced it again early Sunday morning as I passed from Florida up into South Carolina.  For the rest of my trip it was one cup in the morning and nothing but water and/or my new fangled Monster/Water cocktail.

So I took the exit to Crestview, FL.  No truck stop but they did have the next best thing - a Waffle House right next to a gas station.  I read some more history of Lutherans in America and enjoyed my early evening breakfast.  Then it was back on I-10 to Jacksonville, right on I-95 into South Carolina, and exit on Hwy 17 toward Charleston.

I followed Hwy 17 into Charleston hoping that it would take me to the ocean.  Sure enough, I saw water and boats and what looked like water to me!  And right by the water I saw a gas station with a Holiday Inn just up the street.  Nirvana.  But first I set the GPS for Mother Emanuel AME and spent an hour in vigil with those outside.  I want to write more about that but not here.

May God comfort these people in their loss and encourage the rest of us to work hard toward a better world.

Back to the Holiday Inn.  I got a room and then started running down the list of the final preparations.  (Mind you, I had just ridden 1,175 miles through the night and I was a little bit punchy.  Adrenaline is a wonderful thing.)

Final Preparations and a Practice Run

As I walked back to my bike from dropping my stuff off in my hotel room, an awful thought occurred to me.  The spirit of the 50CC requires traveling from one ocean to another, getting gas receipts from the closest gas stations to said oceans.  The water I was looking at wasn’t the Atlantic but the Charleston harbor and marina.  I needed to find a beach.  So I went over to the gas station that was no longer going to be a good starting point to get some help.

They directed me to Folly Beach, 9 miles or so from downtown Charleston.  Thus, my starting point.  But first I had to run to a CVS to get two bottles to hold sand/water, more water, more Monster drinks, and more tank bag snacks.  That done, I headed to Folly Beach.

As I got there I saw the Kangaroo Express gas station that would become my starting point.  I also noticed that it wasn’t open 24 hours so my idea of sleeping awhile and leaving at midnight to avoid traffic in Atlanta went out the window.  I rounded the corner, parked illegally, and ran out to the edge of the water to get my sample.  I asked the closest person to take a proof picture for me and my deed was done.

Now I needed a police officer to sign my first witness form.  The IBA rules says that no one has a problem finding a willing police officer to do this.  But I was in Charleston on Sunday morning, now about 10:30 AM, with half the force already down at a church hoping the crazies wouldn’t show up.  A quick prayer and the idea came, use the GPS to find a police station.

As I left Folly Beach I did so mindful that this was to be my route in the morning.  I realized that the road would probably be packed later on Sunday night so maybe leaving in the morning was overall just a better idea.  As I was thinking about this, I got confused by a right turn and took the wrong one.  Quick u-turn and I was back on track.  I think it is important to practice those little details.

The GPS took me back downtown, right past my hotel, to the headquarters of the Charleston police force.  As I pulled in to the parking lot, a police officer was pulling out.  I waved and yelled and asked for a minute of his time.  He couldn’t have been more gracious.  I had my first witness and everything ready for the 50CC.

 

Back to the hotel for the rest of the day.  I slept immediately until I woke up.  That’s when I realized I might do well with just a LITTLE BIT more planning for my ride.  So I headed to the hotel computer.  Using Mapquest and paper, I figured out the following.

The trip would be roughly 2500 miles.  I used the Mapquest estimates to gauge the time between various checkpoints that I randomly picked.  Since I don’t have an auxiliary gas tank, I planned on aiming at 180 miles per tank, with 15 minutes per stop.  That would make 14 gas stops total.  That left me with plenty of wiggle room.  It said that I would get to Ocean City beach in San Diego with 2.5 hours to spare.  Every minute I saved with steady riding and quick gas stops to get ahead of schedule would be available for sleep.  It was a good plan.

I plugged all of that into a spreadsheet and printed it off.  For all of you engineer types out there, here is the plan that I put in the map visor on my tank bag.

I’ll admit.  I’m terrible at math.  And the whole time zone thing utterly baffles me so I made one column for local times (as the IBA requires) and one column for Central Time as my pea brain requires…and so does the clock on my bike which doesn’t update automatically.  (I never wear a watch on a motorcycle trip.  No matter what.)

Here are my thoughts on estimating gas stops.

The vagaries of estimating mileage on a motorcycle are immense.  Yes, over the long haul, I know that my bike averages somewhere between 38 mpg and 42 mpg.  But on any given tank, I might get as bad as 32 mpg (because of the West Texas winds) or as much at 48 mpg (because you just don’t go fast when cruising through the Black Hills during Bike Week.)  Plus it is a real pain to top off my gas tank on the Harley without splashing gas all over.

On one leg on the way to Charleston I tested the system.  I’ve done this before but you never know how things will go as the miles get piled on a bike.  I made sure to completely fill the tank to the bubbling over brim.  Then I rode at a normal pace, keeping up with the traffic on I-10.  I ignored the tripmeter mileage and just watched the “Estimated miles to go” number.  The reserve light came on with 33 miles to go.  At 10 miles to do, the countdown gave up on my and just said “Fuel Lo!”.  I hit the next gas station.

I put 5.6 gallons into my 6 gallon tank.  I had ridden 225 miles.  Thus I knew that 180 would be a safe distance regardless of conditions and that, on the actual ride, available gas stops might mean riding longer than that (except in West Texas where I get gas at every available opportunity.)

The old pros who check their bike mileage will tell you that they bring a gallon of gas and just run the bike until it runs out of gas.  I’ve never done that.  I’ve also, knock on chrome, ever run out of gas on a motorcycle or a car in my life and plan to never do so.  If you have a dollar in your pocket you are just stupid if you ever run out of gas in the United States.

My mind at ease, a little quick dip in the pool, a final check in and phone call with Kelley, and I was ready to go to bed with plans to get my first gas receipt at 6:00 AM (Eastern Standard Time.)