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.)

A Different Kind of Ride

As I shared in my last post, having decided to keep my Harley instead of trading it in on another kind of motorcycle, I bought a 2006 Suzuki V-Strom DL 1000.  A couple of weeks ago I invited a friend to go riding.  He doesn’t have a bike so I graciously said he could ride the V-Strom.  Off we went to meet up with a couple of other guys and ride the curves in Washington County, TX.

Mid-ride, my battery warning light came on.  I knew immediately what the problem was - the dreaded dead stator.  I don’t know if it is Murphy’s Law or what, but my warranty ran out in April.  THAT’S another reason I was thinking about trading in the Harley. SO, my initial plan for a ride this year to Colorado and Wyoming was scrapped so, as I prepared to leave for a week in Big Bend, I dropped my Harley off at the shop.

I'm Off!

I was so excited for this trip!  After a full Sunday, I got home, loaded up the V-Strom on the trailer, brought everything but the kitchen sink since I had no space worries, and slept until 5:00 AM.  My goal was to hit the road before Houston traffic and head west to Study Butte, near the west entrance to Big Bend National Park.

The drive was relatively non-eventful.  It was weird heading off on a motorcycle trip without being on a motorcycle but I got over it.  It wasn’t like I was hauling my Harley.  I only had two surprises on the trip out.

First, I discovered that 1604 isn’t the short-cut around San Antonio that it used to be.  They are slowly but surely expanding it all the way to I-10 but, in the meantime, it is bumper to bumper all the way to the freeway. It took me over an hour to get through SA.  Note to self:  Don’t go home that way.

Second, I discovered again that a GPS isn’t always the smartest electronic device in the drawer.  Since I was flying down the freeway, hauling a trailer, with my overdrive shut off on my truck, I wasn’t getting very good gas mileage.  I got to a key point where I began to question if I would make it to the next town.  So I asked the GPS where the next station would be.  It pointed out that the next station was only 9 miles ahead so I clicked on it for a little side trip.  I got to the exit I was supposed to take…but there was no gas station to be seen.  Instead, the GPS told me that I needed to turn and then travel several more miles.  So I got to visit Iraan, TX.  (That is pronounced, by the way, “Ira – Ann”.  Go figure.)  Note to self:  The GPS only tells you how far to the next turn…not how far to the gas station.

I left I-10 at Fort Stockton and headed down to Alpine.  It occurred to me that I have never been on these roads on in a truck.  It was a different experience.  I’ve also never gone out to Big Bend this way.  On a bike it is always all the way on 90.

I got to Study Butte, checked into the motel, and unloaded the bike.  Then I realized that, if I hurried, I could get to the main visitor’s center in Panther Junction by 5:00 PM.  So off I went, hurrying as fast as one can hurry when the speed limit in the park is 45 MPH and, for some unexplainable reason, that is a speed limit that I choose to honor perfectly.  Which puts me right in the middle of 3^rd and 4^th gears.  Irritating.  Since I tend to be a short shifter who prefers to keep the RPM’s on the low side (that’s what years of riding a Harley will do to you), I used 4^th.  As the week has gone on, that changed.  More on that later.

The park ranger who checked me in also gave me the low down on the off road trails in the park.  She said that the easiest one, Old Maverick Road, isn’t so easy since they have had rain in the park.  She pointed out the spots that would be too muddy to make it through.  Then she discouraged me from trying any other trail without a dedicated dirt bike or a 4 WD truck.  That was…discouraging…but also challenging since it was my first time in the park.  (And, what she didn’t know is that I wasn’t afraid to take my motorcycle anywhere…when I was in middle school.)

I rode back to Study Butte and checked out the chicken fried steak in the café.  By 8:00 PM I was tired and ready for bed.

Tuesday in the Park

Bright eyed and bushy tailed, I headed back into the park the first thing in the morning.  I put on my sunscreen, helmet, gloves….and thought that my jeans and LD Comfort shirt were not going to offer much protection if I went down in the rocks.  Oh well.  You got to dance with the girl you brung and I don’t have any of that expensive protective gear.  I had 100 oz. of water in my Camelbak backpack and a large cup of coffee.

Just after entering the park I turned right on Old Maverick Road.  I haven’t ridden any significant distance on a gravel road since I was in North Dakota two years ago.  So yes, I was a bit nervous.  Immediately I discovered what it is like to ride a motorcycle on a washboard gravel road.  So, for the first time in my life, I stood up on the pegs to ride.

I got up on the balls of my feet.  I gripped the tank with my knees.  I did the best that I could but, even with two inch risers and my pegs dropped an inch, at 6’6”, I couldn’t stand up straight and have anything close to a good grip on the handlebars, so I settled for something in the middle. It worked great!  The bike’s suspension sucked up the bumps and I felt like I was in control.

I also felt like I was 8 feet high in the air!  It was a weird sensation.  I very quickly felt like the rookie that I am.

The views were fantastic and the road really wasn’t too bad.  The muddy places were obvious and had pretty much dried up. There were plenty of sandy places where the water had passed over the road but they weren’t too bad.

(At some point I will edit this and insert the only video I made all week.  I’m surprised that it actually worked.)

Eventually I got to a road to the right with a sign that said something like Terlingua Abajo. I took a chance and headed down it.  After several curves, more rocks and sand, I came around a corner to see the gnarliest rocky downhill with a pool of black mud on the bottom.  Suddenly I felt REALLY alone and aware that it would be stupid to do anything dangerous.  If I would have been with someone else, I would have walked down the hill, checked out the bottom, found the riding line, and I would have given it a try.  Instead, I tucked my tail between my legs, turned my bike around, and headed back to the pleasant washboard that was Old Maverick Road.  That moment would haunt me the rest of the week.

I got back on the pavement near Santa Elena Canyon.  From that point on, I took every side road I could and stopped wherever there was something to see.  In that, it was a very different kind of ride for me. I rode all the paved roads in the park that I hadn’t ridden before and I checked out the things that I had heard about but never seen. 

The first stop after the canyon was Castolon. The Cottonwood campground was closed for the season as was the visitor center but the old store was open so I stopped for a break. 

After leaving Castolon I saw the turn off for the western end of the River Road so I gave it a shot.  Soon I dropped into a sea of sand, the likes of which I have never ridden through.  I did what I thought best – kept my hand hard on the throttle to keep my momentum up while also keeping a light grip on the handlebars so the front wheel could find its way.  Once, twice, three times I just about lost it and went down.  Then I looked up at the first hill I was going to have to climb and I remembered the lesson of the Terlingua Abajo.  Back to the main road for me.

I rode on to the Chisos Basin, Rio Grande Village and the Boquillas Canyon Overlook. The Boquillas crossing was closed (it is open now from Wednesday-Sunday) but I forgot my passport so I couldn’t have gone across the river if I wanted to.  Back again to beautiful views and a 45 MPH speed limit.

I rode down to the Hot Springs, happy that I was on the V-Strom rather than the Harley on the access road to the Hot Springs parking area.  As for the hot springs itself…the two boys throwing mud at each other pretty much told me there was nothing to be gained by going to all the trouble to crawl into that muddy water with them.  I watched for a few minutes and headed out.

Thinking I would give a trail another try, I turned off at Grapevine Hills Road on my way back through the park.  Once again I realized that I just wasn’t ready for that and I turned back around.

It was a long day and I was ready to get back to the motel.  A quick stop to drop stuff off and then I decided to ride to the pretty part of 170, River Road, the high point over the Rio Grande.  I was beginning to trust the V-Strom a little better on the curves but it seems like the recent rains have left sand on the bottom of every low point in the road.  Sand on highways is scary.  So I took it easy and just enjoyed the ride through Lajitas and up to the top.  Of course I had to stop for a minute at the tee pee rest area. Every time I pass there I think about how cool I would find that place as a kid.

On the way back through I stopped at the bar and grill in Terlingua.  Good burger and beer to top off the day.  But man, did I feel out of place!  I got back to the motel and hit the sack.

Wednesday and the Davis Mountain Loop

Today was my day to see what kind of sport bike the V-Strom could be.  I headed up 118 for about 80 miles or so to Alpine with a plan to ride a canyon loop with a stop for a swim.  118 is a really fun road.  It is beautiful with lots of curves, none nearly as sandy as the day before on the River Road.  I had a great breakfast in Alpine and headed north.

118 remains beautiful all the way to Fort Davis (and through it to Kent.)  My loop started when I took 17 through the Barrilla Mountains to Balmorhea State Park and the 1.43 acre spring fed swimming pool.  The day wasn’t terribly hot, I found a picnic table in the shade, and I took a dip.  It was great but also a bit weird to swim in crystal clear water, 20-25 feet deep, where you can still see the bottom.  Then I hit the picnic table and continued slogging my way through Mark Granquist’s book, “Lutherans in America: A New History”. Yes, this is my vacation reading of choice.

Back on the road, I headed west to pick up I-10 to Kent, then back on 118 toward Fort Davis.  The beauty of this road is the scenery as you work your way back into the Davis Mountains.  I stopped at the McDonald Observatory and at the Davis Mountains State Park, where I rode to the top of Skyline Drive.  Beautiful.  Worth it.  And the sort of thing that I never usually do.

Back again carving my way down 118.  I thought that this is as close as we can get in Texas to the canyon carving we always hear about in California.  I started keeping the RPM’s between 5000-6500 and really enjoyed the V-Strom acting like a sportbike.  Before I knew it, I was back in Study Butte.

So THAT is Where You Go When You Turn Right on 170!

Thursday started slow for me as I wasn’t sure how I wanted to spend the day.  Part of me wanted to go back into the park and give the Terlingua Abajo another run.  As I stepped outside with my coffee and map to think about it I heard the click of the door and instantly realized that I had locked my key inside.  So I just took my seat (I brought an outdoor lounge chair from home….like I said, you can bring the kitchen sink when you trailer your bike) and waited for the housekeeper to show.

I saw Presidio on the map.  Every time I’ve been to this part of the world I have ridden 170, the River Road, from Presidio to Study Butte.  But then I realized that, if you turn right at Presidio, 170 actually goes past Presidio through Ruidosa until it ends at Candelaria.  I figured it might be a fun, desolate, road and that is exactly what it turned out to be.  The only negative was lots of sand at the bottom of every low spot in the road because of their recent rains so I took it easy and enjoyed the sights.

I stopped at the Fort Leaton Historical Site on the way into Presidio.  It is an interesting place with an interesting history but beware the fool who asks the guy behind the counter an open-ended question.  Whew, he ran me through the history beginning in 1638.  I hated to be rude but eventually I needed to walk away.

I’m glad I stopped there.  The history was great, the rooms were fascinating, but the thing that really blew me away was the ox cart in the corral.  Wow.  I hope the pictures I eventually post when I edit this later) do it justice.  It was twice as large as I imagined it to be.

I gassed up in Presidio and headed off to the uncharted waters of the rest of 170. It was a fun ride even though you know when you start that you will eventually be turning around to come back the same way.  I rolled through Ruidosa for that very reason.

 Candelaria literally feels like the end of the world (and maybe a glimpse of the 3^rd world) but I was surprised by their beautiful little church.  (Pictures to come someday.)

As I passed back through Ruidosa I stopped at the only place there is to stop at, the little store that serves as the terminal for Hot Springs Airport.  I had given some thought to trying the gravel road between there and Marfa.  At some point that road turns to pavement…but that wasn’t the part of the road that I was interested in.  I saw where it started and immediately realized that I either needed another friend on a bike so I wouldn’t have to go alone or some local knowledge.  Thus my stop.

The woman who runs the store was very nice (her husband is the director of the airport) so I bought some water to be equally nice but she discouraged me from trying the road to Marfa.  She told me it was a hard drive in a 4 WD truck, especially after it has seen rain.  So much for that. 

I went back again the way I came until I was back at the motel and ready again for reading and bed.  I packed the truck, loaded the trailer, and got ready for the drive home on Friday.

It was a different kind of ride but a very relaxing and enjoyable week.  As they say, “It’s the rider, not the bike” and I agree with that.  A confident rider with years of off-road experience could probably take the V-Strom anywhere but even they would need to put knobby tires on it to do it.  Me?  I’m putting Michelin Pilot Road 4’s on it and treat it like the sport bike and commuter that it will be for me.

Gearing Up

When I last checked in I had test ridden a brand new BMW GS 1200 Adventure.  I was “this close” to trading in my Harley and making the jump to adventure touring.  But I just couldn’t pull the trigger.  Nor could I let go of the possibility.

So I decided it might be better to tiptoe rather than dive into another kind of riding.  I started looking at used bikes. (Some dealers actually let you test ride a bike before you buy it.  But they are the rare exception.) Instead of breaking the bank to buy a new bike I realized that I could break the piggy bank to buy an older used one to see if I really might like to make a change.

I rode a Triumph Explorer and a Yamaha Super Tenere.  Both were OK.  I preferred the Triumph.  But both were too expensive.  And then one day it happened.

I used my Friday day off to ride to New Braunfels, Boerne, and San Antonio to check out some bikes I saw online.  My first and last stop was in New Braunfels.  There it sat, just inside the front door, not the bike I went to look at but a 2006 Suzuki V-Strom DL 1000.  Great condition, only 16,000 miles, and the price was right.  So I got it.

Over the past few weeks I have been heating up the Internet to whip the bike into the shape I need it to be in.  First order of business was tall guy stuff, next up was protection for taking the bike off-road and on trails.

In no particular order, I added:

• ·      A new Givi Airflow windshield to stop its horrible head buffeting. It worked.
• ·      2 inch risers for the handlebars
• ·      A new OEM gel seat to replace the Corbin it came with which was obviously designed for a much shorter person than me.
• ·      I lowered the footpegs and added highway pegs
• ·      Essential additions included a center stand (I can’t believe it didn’t come with one already on), a skid plate, engine crash guards, a radiator screen, and a fork brace.
• ·      I wired in a GPS mount, a 12 V power plug, and a battery tender.
• ·      And I added a new tank bag so that I can at least carry something since it didn’t come with a top case or panniers (which HD calls saddlebags.)

The one thing that the bike doesn’t have that I consider absolutely essential is a throttle lock.  I tried to install a Vista Universal Cruise Control lock but it didn’t work.  Or at least I couldn’t get it to work.  I’ll see how I do without it for awhile before I try installing it again.

So far, I love the bike.  It is light, easy to roll around, quick, and reasonably comfortable.  I say reasonably because I still ride my Harley and, every time, I marvel at how comfortable that bike is.  Those guys who say their adventure bikes are built for long distance comfort have no idea what they are missing.  Or else they just have stronger backs and shorter legs than I do. No, they have no idea what they are missing.

My first “long ride for this year” plan was to ride up through Colorado and Wyoming with Kelley flying to Denver to join me for a few days.  But having a new bike with new possibilities has changed all of my internal rules.  I would never have considered trailering a bike anywhere unless Kelley was riding in the truck with me but the V-Strom has invited me to reconsider.  So now the plan has changed.

I’m going to trailer the V-Strom to Big Bend National Park and spend a week riding roads and trails.  Then back to Houston to trade bikes for a week in Arkansas with Kelley.

Since I will be on a new bike, and out of cell coverage, I got a Delorme Explorer tracking device for the trip.  I added a new link to the blog that works with that device so the world (or at least the five people who care) can always see where I am when I’m gone.  We will be testing this out before I leave and then hoping it works as advertised.

I leave on Monday , June 15^th and I’ll let you know how it goes.

I Confess...I Test Rode a BMW

I did it.  I thought about it a long time.  Too long.  I have visited the dealership far too many times.  I have read the reviews and the ride stories.  And finally I did it.  

I test rode a BMW 1200 GS Adventure.

Why did I do it?

The simple answer is that there are roads in the world where I want to ride that my Harley just can't go.

The BMW 1200 GS Adventure is the finest sport touring, on road/off road, motorcycle in the world. There are plenty of other choices out there but nothing that has the complete package like this one.  So, after salivating from a distance, I finally had to give it a try.

Five miles down the freeway.  U-turn.  Five miles back to the dealership.  Over the bumps and potholes of the frontage road, past cars like they were standing still as I flew back onto the freeway.  It was quick.  Fast.  Full of features.  And grossly uncomfortable for a big guy like me.

BMW made it as easy as pie.  They keep all the add-ons in stock (like GPS, the tank bag, the three rear storage boxes.)  There are plenty of after market things (like a bigger windshield, lower foot pegs, risers for the handlebars, and, of course, a Russell Day Long seat) that would customize the fit for me.  Nothing down.  Basically the same payment as my Harley.  90 days until my first payment (which would be enough time to sell my Harley.)  Easy peasy.

But I couldn't do it.

My bike is slower.  Heavier.  Much more limited in where it can go.  I can never ride it to Prudhoe Bay or the farther reaches of Canada, or off road in New Mexico or Utah, or down to the beach in Galveston or to the most interesting places in Big Bend.  I'm not really even comfortable visiting my uncle and aunt in North Dakota again if there has been any rain lately.  But it is perfect for me.  It fits me like a glove.  

When it comes right down to it, sometimes you have to make choices in this life.  Me?  Given the choice of driving across the country in the cab of a Freightliner or the front seat of a Corvette, I'm going to take the Freightliner every time.  It is just the way I'm wired.

I remember once riding across Florida.  I saw two bikers riding in the other direction down the highway.  One was all decked out in his Aerostich riding suit on a fully packed BMW sport touring bike.  The other was a hairy guy on a Harley with his leather vest and full biker vibe happening.  And, in that moment, I realized I would much rather have a beer and exchange ride stories with the guy on the Harley.

But we forget.  I forget.  So yesterday I test rode a BMW.

This morning in church I talked with two guys who visited Faith last weekend.  Last weekend they came to our 2nd service - the one with the worship band where I don't wear a robe.  This week they came to the 1st service - the one with the organ and the choir and the robes.  In no uncertain terms, they said that today felt like "church" to them in ways that last week simply didn't.  I understand that.  Even though that isn't the way I am wired.

I am a multi-style worship guy.  We have four different types of worship services every weekend at Faith.  I like them all although I don't lead the service in Mandarin Chinese.  I like lots of different ways of worshipping God.

I feel the same about bikes.

So I am not a dyed in the wool Harley or nothing guy.  I don't think every other bike in the world pales in comparison to the all American, all steel, "only bike in the world with a soul" product of Harley Davidson.  I think there is a place and purpose for all bikes.

So I test rode a BMW 1200 GS Adventure.  Then left the dealership and walked away.  Sometimes you have to make choices.  My choice is to not make a choice.  My choice is to wait for the day when I don't have to choose.  The day when I get to have both.  

There are roads out there with my name on them and someday I'm going to pay them a visit.