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Ride Report: Bun Burner - 1500 miles in 36 hours |
| Name: |
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Richardson, Brian |
| Date Posted: |
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May 14, 08 - 4:10 PM |
| Email: |
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bjricha2@uncc.edu |
| Message: |
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From: Richardson, Brian [mailto:bjricha2@uncc.edu]
Sent: Wednesday, May 14, 2008 9:12 AM
To: Bruce@ldrlongdistancerider.com
Subject: Great Articles
Bruce,
I just completed my 2nd success IBA ride, the BB1500 in 36 hours. I had attempted it earlier but the weather and a flat tire snatched the prize from my hand. I will be doing the 50CC soon by following your route across the bottom of the country. Yes – your article inspired me to do more riding. I rode through the storms that drenched GA this past weekend, May 11th. I laughed the hardest as I passed a car pulling a trailer with two bikes on it.
Congratulation on all your IBA rides – you are just plain amazing!
Brian Richardson
06 Gold Wing
IBA Member
I’ve attached a copy of my ride report:
***
Ride Report
Iron Butt Association
Bun Burner - 1500 miles in 36 hours
May 10-11, 2008
If it was easy – everyone would do it. How many times have I heard that saying and not really thought a lot about it. This was one occasion when I understood and appreciated those words.
The planning for this ride was simple, re-do the route that was uncompleted last August due to a flat tire in Alabama, heat that hovered around 100 and a strong storm in Georgia that forced us to seek shelter in a motel.
I packed the “stuff” I would need the night before and laid out the riding gear I was going to wear so the morning would go a bit smoother. I crawled into bed at 8:15 pm with the anticipation of rising at 0300 and riding by 0330. About 9 pm my brother Dan calls me and wakes me from a dead sleep – other riders would be upset but this would be a repeat and a good omen of the day to come. He had called me before my Saddle Sore 1000 which ended up being a fantastic ride. I was smiling when I went to sleep – knowing this was going to be a good ride. My alarm didn’t go off at 0300, but instead I woke up at 0530, nature was insistently calling. OK – a change of plans. Quick eat, get geared up and say goodbye to Tammy. She wasn’t riding this one with me, her leg was still bothering her from the break eight weeks ago and having her foot hang down for that many hours would probably cause her problems. So with her mixed blessings (she wasn’t happy I was going alone) I was out the door and heading to the gas station down the street for my start time receipt – 0627 10 May.
I moaned a little at the 3.69 a gallon gas price, thank goodness the tank is only 6 gallons and the bike gets about 215 - 230 miles a tank. The morning was cool for Charlotte; it was only in the high 60’s – a bit chilly for an acclimating northerner. I circled around the financial district of the city and headed for I-85 south to Spartanburg SC. The roads were relatively empty except for the trucks making deliveries and a few tired looking college age kids – probably heading home since school is out for the summer – since Friday. Isn’t that an old Alice Cooper song?
Spartanburg SC came and went as a gas and go. Arden NC is my next stop – that is near Asheville. The GPS is taking me to the door; at least I thought it was. The gas station I had used in August is now a CVS Pharmacy! I filled up across the street and got a receipt with no address on it, so I went to CVS and bought some ibuprofen that I had forgotten to pack, they don’t call this a Bun Burner for nothing you know. This receipt had a good address and with a little note the verifiers of the ride will understand what I did.
The next leg would start the 175 – 200 mile stretches as I started out for Knoxville TN. This route takes me off of I-26 to I-40 through a gap in the mountains. This road winds along a river and through the mountains, all down hill. It is like flying, only on two wheels. I will have to take a movie camera through there some day – it is worth watching if you can’t do it yourself. The clouds were hanging low and threatened rain, but none came. Once I was on the TN side of the mountains the temp began to slowly climb and the clouds gave way to more sunshine. The gas stop in Knoxville was quick again; gas, potty and go. This is one of the planned mandatory stops to show the corners of the route. From there I headed west for a while till Chattanooga where the route heads into the deep south.
The road less traveled, at least on Saturday. The next stop would be 189 miles away in the little widening in the road called Collinsville, AL. This is the same place that Tammy and I stopped in August. I had to laugh – there were many déjà vu moments in this ride – ok – because I had done it already. This was a gas and go – there were too many people with red necks in this place and I didn’t speak their version of English. It was time to fly. Soon I went by the place that Tammy and I were stranded for a couple of hours last year because of the flat tire – a honk of the horn to salute our stay and to the guys that stopped and helped us.
The next stop was Prattville AL. This is a little bigger and more progressing widening in the road, it had a Subway shop where I had a quick lunch and talked with a local about the upcoming Presidential election. He started out with some anti Obama rhetoric but quickly included Hillary and McCain in his fear filled rant. The mood out there isn’t one of hope but concern for what is happening in the country now and what may happen when the next person is elected. That conversation lingered with me as I rode further south towards the Gulf of Mexico.
The only incident that left me feeling a little vulnerable happened between Montgomery and Mobile. A guy in a black Dodge Nitro would get along side me a look at me, speed up, get in the slow lane, I would pass him because I was using cruise, he would get agitated and pull out behind me, I would change lanes, he would speed ahead and so it went. The last time he was passing me he pulled up along side me and just stared at me. Well the 1800 has lots of power so with a twist of the wrist and the speedometer reading 95 I left him comfortably behind for a while. I watched him slowly close the gap and that gave me a cold chill – what was this guy planning on doing? You know the saying – timing is everything? I waited until he was boxed in by cars, exited and watched him go by – staring at me. At the top of the off ramp I dismounted, ate some of the goodies Tammy had packed me and waited till this guy would be far enough ahead of me to not cause me any more disquieting thoughts.
Since I have probably watched too many movies in my life, the thought of Dennis Weaver being hunted by the guy in the semi-truck kept flashing through my mind. I was on the road in a few minutes and to keep safe I would look up the on-ramp’s as I would pass them to make sure this guy wasn’t waiting for me. The ramps came and went and no sign of him until I passed a way-side rest – there was his car and thankfully he wasn’t in it. I kept the throttle open and put some miles between me and him.
Now the temp was starting to climb, 80, 85, 88. Not as bad as August last year but just on the edge of sweaty. Mobile’s bridges and sea inlets came into view and the next corner of my ride was realized. It was 5:30 pm and I was right on schedule. Eleven hours in the saddle with 7 - 8 more to go before I could stop for some rest, that is why not everyone does this kind of riding. Another quick stop and go and I was now heading east across the Florida panhandle towards Jacksonville, 415 miles away. As I started across the 3 mile bridge to Florida I could see the USS Alabama – a destroyer moored and on display. I don’t care what anybody say’s, those ships are impressive. I lost an hour going back across the time zone line – ouch. I notice that my intervals are declining a bit because 1, I’m getting tired and 2, I don’t know where the next gas station is going to appear. I passed a few during the night that were closed, so when I am at a quarter of a tank and I’m not sure where the next open station is I chose to pull in having traveled less miles. Frequent stopping also increases my time on the road because I’m not moving.
It is dark out, and when you drive through any rural area there are animals that come out to eat or be eaten. I saw two foxes and a number of deer in the high beam of the Gold Wing. They all were content to eat or run into the woods instead of committing suicide that night. The bug population was amazing – at every stop I had to clean/scrape the windshield and the face mask lens. I remember riding without a windshield, yuck, all those dead bugs on your clothing and the lower part of your face where the lens failed to cover. One more stop in Madison Fl – another 153 miles away.
I got a little extra thrill during this stop. Coming off the ramp and being drawn like a bug to the bright Shell sign I “rolled” through the stop. I didn’t think much about it at the time – no one is on the road at 1130 in the night except – cops. The car behind me was an unmarked cruiser that followed me into the gas station and parked behind me as I began to fill up. A lady cop gets out of a black supped up dodge charger. Apparently she just needed gas and didn’t have time for a “geezer” on a Gold Wing. The nerves she created in me gave me gas. Nothing was said and she banged the fill cap lid shut, fired up the cruiser and it growled as it disappeared into the night, looking for real law breakers. Those kinds of cars don’t need fancy mufflers to make them sound powerful, you can hear the power.
I’m listening to XM radio and even the loudest rock stations aren’t drowning out the voice of that Motel 6 guy promising to leave the light on – I’m looking through heavy lids for the light that he says is always on. The temps are a comfortable 71 degrees with high humidity, so it feels like a warm bed. This just adds to the exhaustion that is creeping up on me. Well about 104 miles later I find a Days Inn and with the best monotone voice I can muster I ask for a room. It’s 1:30 am and my iron butt is sore and it’s dragging. I ignore the three police cars parked outside – I’m safe if they are around.
I unload the bike, set the clock for 6 am and collapse. I woke up around 4:30 because I thought the room alarm clock had gone off – it was a couple of drunks outside yelling at each other about something only drunks can yell about. The next two hours passed in a wink and it was time to pour some of that coffee I had pre-prepared into my system. You all know how unsatisfactory that coffee is; well it is exactly what I needed. Not Starbucks but something a tired Marine would enjoy, black, acidic and hot. I eat some of the cookies and beef sticks I had left over for breakfast and headed for the front desk for checkout. I got into a quick conversation with a fellow that worked at the Inn about the bike. He rode a crotch rocket and was saving his money to get a Wing. I waited 27 years – I don’t think he will have to wait that long. The gold color and bling appeal of the bike attracts potential buyers.
Last year Tammy and I rode into a powerful storm just north of where I was that morning. Since the TV didn’t have any weather forecast I didn’t see that I was going to repeat another event from last year, only without Tammy. I had crossed the border into Georgia and off in the distance, straight ahead of me, the clouds were black and lightning crawled across the bottom of them, just like they were looking for a place to drop to the ground. When they did, they were jagged, thick and very bright pillars that held up that black boiling cauldron. Even going 75 miles an hour I could hear the thunder above the road and wind noise. I found an exit and put the rain liner in my riding jacket, a futile act in the face of the intensity of rain I was going to soon ride into. Everyone had their headlights on now. Day had just about become night and it was 8 in the morning. The cars and motorcycles coming south didn’t have the appearance that anything north of me was going on – yet. As every journey begins with the first step, every storm begins with the first drops of rain. In the same spot a few months earlier where Tammy and I had driven into a huge storm I drove into another one. Little did I know that Tammy was at home watching the weather channel seeing the reds and oranges on the map in the area that I was driving into. The rain came down like a fire hose – hard and cold. I had put the windshield down to it’s lowest setting in the event of rain so the wind could blow the rain off my face shield – nice thinking anyhow.
The wind followed or pushed this weather front right into traffic. Everyone was putting on their brakes, finding the flashers that are never used and slowing down to a crawl of 30 miles an hour. I followed an intrepid pick up truck into the maelstrom! Cars, vans, SUV’s and semi-trucks were pulled over during the height of the downpour. I didn’t see some cars on the side of the road because of the darkness and the blowing rain until I was right on them. The rain gear soon gave in to the downpour and the icy fingers of water found their way into my suit. Even though I am moving forward the rain was coming down on top of me and not blowing over me at all. I was wet, cold and laughing hysterically. What are the chances of this scenario happening twice and in the same spot as last year? My laughter continued when I passed a car with a trailer that had – yup – two Harleys on it. I honked the horn and passed him! That was the highlight of the storm for me. Wingers don’t just drive to eat as we are so often accused of doing.
2 – 2 1/2 or 188 miles later the rain quit. I was in Yemassee SC for gas finally. Somewhere in between Jacksonville and Yemassee I pulled into a wayside rest to answer natures call. It was raining and I got a chuckle watching people run to their cars to avoid getting wet. I left my helmet on, just tipped up the front and headed to the bathroom. I got some funny stares and even some scared ones from people when I was walking in. I understand when I saw myself in the mirror. Dripping, pasty looking from the cold and with the helmet tipped up I looked over 6’ 5” tall. I dripped more water on the floor from my soaked gear than I left in the urinal. Anyway – in Yemassee I called Tammy and she said I had worse weather ahead of me. Huh? The weather service was predicting 60 mile an hour winds, large hail and of course more rain. Well I couldn’t sit I had to move. A full tank of gas and a head full of warnings I headed towards Columbia SC, the last dog leg of my ride. I went through sunny stretches that felt good because I was soaked and freezing. Then the sky went dark again – but not as dark as what I had driven through in Georgia. The miles clicked off and the storm must have been just to the west of me because I made it through that area without any more than low black clouds and cool temps. That is what had pushed this storm system along, the cold front that I was now shivering through.
About 80 miles from home I topped the tank off so I wouldn’t have to stop in case the weather closed in on me. The temp was 65 and I was freezing. I had the headed grips on and the toe warmer port open to suck as much comfort out of the bike as possible. The boots I was wearing were breeze through so the wet socks and the wind made for some cold feet. The cushion I was sitting on was soaked through so the heated seat wouldn’t have helped.
Familiar sites and road signs now took the place of listening for directions from the GPS. I pulled into the gas station that I had started out from Saturday morning, it was 1:52 pm. on Sunday the 11th. My starting odometer reading was 17065 miles and ended at 18668. Unofficially I had traveled 1,603 miles in about 32 hours of the 36 that are allotted for this type of certificate. Unofficially because the people with the IBA will look over the paper work and judge it against MapQuest or something similar to determine actual mileage. That is why they want receipts with addresses on them – to make sure we actually did what we did – because we are a mentally questionable lot.
What’s next? Another Saddle Sore soon – that’s 1000 miles in less than 24 hours. We’ll get this when Tammy and I go back to MN to visit family and friends. I am considering a ride around Lake Superior with my brother when we go up there – that’s another 1000 mile ride.
Brian |
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