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PREFACE
First of all, the ride was cut short due to weather and timing. Didn't make it to Canada or Chehalis, Washington, but boy did I give it a good try. One thing I learned is if you want to get the most out of a trip like this you CAN'T be on a time schedule and in reality, it's at least a two week trip. I passed by so many places and sights that I wanted to stop and explore but couldn't. It made me sick. Thanks to all that kept track of me: Andy, Jimmy and Dennis. BlackFalcon that kept the updates flowing on his crazy dad. Lisa was bummed that I didn't make it to Chehalis but all is forgiven.
, and a big thanks to Junior and the rest of the Canadian Contingent for being understanding.
Revised route
STARTING OUT
Remembering the experience I had the last time I did this I made a few changes to start the ride. My goal was to do a major speed run in the beginning to get the Iron Butt stuff out of the way. I figured (and I was correct) that I would be too drained after The Gap to do any kind of timed run. This time I also packed a bit more intelligently (or so I thought). Ditched the 17" PowerBook and borrowed BlackFalcon's iBook, small Sony Cybershot, rainsuit, spare shirt and underwear, and packed it all in my Axio Hardpack. I had sent my leathers and a change of clothes to Cyber a week earlier BY USPS, and they arrived with no problems. UPS bites (learned my lesson).
REVIEW:
The Axio Hardpack lived up to it's billing as a very aerodynamic backpack. Little to no wind buffeting. Comfortable on the back, but as the ride continued the weight became a huge burden.
CONCLUSION:
Vanity sucks. I have always liked the Busa hump. It is one of the most unique parts of this bike. Practical (it's hollow and can be used as storage) and aerodynamically functional. I've noticed also that most East Coast riders ditch the hump and exclusively use the rear seat. (Hey, 'ya can't pimp out the bling, stretch the swingarm and carry your big booty, thong-showing, hottie with minimal gear unless you have the seat on) The majority of West Coast riders keep the hump on, so I like to represent.
I also don't find the custom luggage for the Busa particularly attractive. But believe me, by the time I left The Gap the custom Corbins I saw on a couple of Busas looked like the most beautiful things I have ever seen. (Really... The black LE I saw leaving the CROT when I left was a member of Hayabusa.org and the set-up looked sweet).
Instead of leaving at midnight I wanted to leave at 4:00pm on Saturday. That way I could do night riding all the way through Arizona, New Mexico and Texas before having to pull it over. Naturally things don't go exactly as planned and I left at 8pm. Late, but it would still put me into Texas by late morning. I pulled into Barstow around midnight and gassed up with the temperature nudging 90. Smart move
Made it through Arizona with no problems and rolled into Gallup early morning, still not hitting any major heat... yet.
They were testing a couple Smart Cars in New Mexico.
Don't ask me why I took this.
Because of my late start Amarillo by noon or Oklahoma by late afternoon wasn't going to happen. By the time I got to Amarillo I was pretty much cooked. The odometer said I had traveled 1068 miles so I was pleased that I did earn two IronButt patches, but now it was time to find a motel.
Last time I stayed in Amarillo was right in the middle of the annual Jehovah Witness convention and the only place available was a dump that I swear doubled as a hooker's office. I started to get concerned because the first three places I called had no vacancies (convention again), but I found a very nice Days Inn just off I40 that had a ground floor room available and at a very reasonable price. (The JW's just finished their convention)
After resting for a bit the fatigue started to set in. Like a hammer. Just the few hours of daytime riding really drained me, plus, the beginnings of a sinus headache was approacing. I called Andy (lopeha) and told him where I was and what the timing was turning out to be like. Andy was kind enough to provide a wake-up call for me the next morning. But the Benadryl I took the before I went to bed (and the Waffle House dinner) had other wake-up plans for me. I remembered waking up to Andy's call and attempting to get out of bed, but two hours later the haze was just starting to wear off and I remembered he called but I took a few minutes to remember WHY he called. "Oh, yeah... I'm supposed to be... LEAVING!" I found some Tylenol Sinus DayTime at a drug store, popped a couple and headed out.
WHAT GOOD IS RAIN GEAR IF YOU CAN'T GET TO IT?
Ok, I have no problems riding in rain. But wind and I don't mix. Combine that with windwake from big rigs and I confess... I'm a wimp. After the first truck nearly blew me off the road I had to pull into a gas station/giftshop to wait it out. For an hour. It rained all the way from Amarillo to just inside the Oklahoma border. It didn't start out heavy but you freakin' Texans don't do anything "little", even rain. Thunder, lighting, wind... armadillos. I didn't even have a chance to get the rain suit out of the pack before I was soaked, but the one good thing about riding in this kind of rainy weather is no matter how soaked you get you're assured of being totally dry an hour after it stops. Blasting down the highway in 90+ degree weather will dry you out quickly.
OKLAHOMA'S FINEST
The assault on Oklahoma and Arkansas was draining but was totally expected. The backpack was getting heavier by the mile, though. I don't care how aerodynamic something is - weight is still weight. And the trucks were starting to get on my nerves (no offense, Andy). Highway riding means either staying 100 yards ahead of them or 100 behind, and when you have a unending train of them screaming down the road it's a constant battle between staying away and staying under 65 (uh, like I was going to do that anyway).
About 100 miles from Oklahoma City I found myself stuck behind four rigs doing about 75 and had another one coming up fast behind me. When you get within 300 feet of a truck the buffeting gets intense. My rule-of-thumb was to hang back until I had a clear passing lane that gave me at least 300 ft. of room once I passed to get in the clear. Once I had a clear shot I hit it. When you get in their wake it can get a bit unnerving but I've found that the best way to get through it is to just hug with your knees and keep your upper body loose, trying not to lock your arms in a death-grip. By the time I passed the last truck and moved back into the left lane I was at 110. As I started to slow down I spotted a car pull in right behind me. Hmmm... doesn't LOOK like a Crown Vic but still...
Man, I hate it when they put those stinkin' lights in the grill!
(Note to self: Oklahoma State Troopers not only have Busas but they have acquired Dodge Chargers, too.)
I made it to the side and pulled out the license (Registration and insurance is in the hump). The trooper slowly makes his way to me, eyeing the Cali license plate. I hand him the license and he he says,
"Long way from home. Where you headed?"
"North Carolina."
He does a double-take on the license, the plate, and the bike.
"On this?!"
"Yeah.
"No shit?!! You be careful, 'y hear?""
He handed me my license back and I quickly shoved it back in my wallet and took off. :P
WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL?
I thought about the surprised look the trooper gave me for a long time. Why was this such a big deal? I mean, so far on this trip I'd seen Harleys riding 2-up with tons of luggage, "Wings" with all the amenities of a five-star motel and 1200GS's that looked like they just did Dakar. Not to mention the various metric cruisers parked in motel lots. Why does it always seem like a big deal to people when I do it? Then it dawned on me: I've seen all kinds of bikes but only one other "sportbike" (a ZX-14 going the other direction earlier that morning). People just don't think of the Busa as a bike built for distance. To the novice it's just another crotch rocket, to the average rider it's just a bling-bling speed demon. I figure if I had Corbin BeetleBags people wouldn't think of it as such a big deal.
This time I saw more bikes on the road than before. Even met a guy on a fully dressed Harley Road King who was doing the same ride I was (although he started in Detroit and was working his way back home). He left Needles, California a day before I did and we met in Arkansas. He had a month of vacation time and was using it up on the road.
Hey! Found a Starbucks in Arkansas!
ARKANSAS AND MEETING UP WITH LOPEHA
Andy had emailed directions to his place a week earlier. Lopeha is a trucker, so naturally his directions are spot-on. If he says it'll take 3 hours, it'll take three hours. But directions to someone from the South take on a whole different meaning to someone from SoCal.
Quoting Andy:I'm sure you can find your to Arkieland so I'll start at the first turn off: I-40 East to Exit 127, US64. At the bottom of the ramp turn left & head East. You'll go to thru several stoplights but only one 4-way stop sign at the intersection of US64 & AR5. Turn right & go South on Hwy 5 continuing on straight thru 3 stoplights {the 2nd stop light the road will change to Hwy 321) and go another 6.7 miles where you will come upon the "split" of Hwy 321 & Hwy321 Spur. Stay to the left (nice 90 degree curve) & go another 2 miles & turn right into my driveway. I have a large black plastic mailbox with "2055" in 4" reflective numbers. I'll be near the phone if any problems arise.
First of all, the exits in Cali have names, not numbers, and although we'll be like the rest of the country in 2010 (exit numbers), it'll take 20 years for us to get the hang of it. When you're tired, numbers all seem to run together. It's a lot easier looking for "Manchester Avenue exit off the Harbor Freeway" rather than "Highway 321 Spur". Secondly, the distance between stoplights seems to be way different than in SoCal:
I swear, by the time I got to the third stoplight I thought I was at The CROT!
I don't remember what time I got to Andy's place but it was dark and I was beat. Andy and his wife were gracious hosts and they have two of the coolest dogs I've ever met. After a shower and a call to TWI telling asking them not to cancel my reservations I made the first major error of the trip. We were already running late and I didn't want to hold up Andy and Jimmy any longer so I suggested that we leave right after my coffee and shower. Andy asked me if I was sure I wanted to go without a little nap and I said no. Should have gotten a little shut-eye but wanted to press on.
By the time we got to the Dragon I was totally out of it! I was so exhausted that it was all I could do to just follow Andy's taillights. Going up the Dragon after 2200 tiring miles is one thing, but to do it while damn near falling asleep was sheer lunacy. God was definitely looking out for me because there were a few stretches that I really didn't remember a blessed thing! By the time we made it past TWI on the way to the house staying on my side of the double-yellows had turned into a mere suggestion and all I was doing was riding on sheer instinct. If Andy had ridden off the road into a brick wall I would have followed him. I WILL NEVER RIDE THAT TIRED OR SLEEPY EVER AGAIN. It was by the grace of God that I didn't become someone's hood ornament or become "one with a tree".
TO ANDY:
If it seemed like I was getting more and more ticked off while trying to find the Treetops believe me, it wasn't directed at you. I was tired, exhausted, sleep deprived and just frustrated with the situation. Not mad at you, at all!
TWO WHEEL INN AND MEETING THE KATRIDERS
Once I found TWI I peeled off from Andy. Visions of them giving my room away was starting to scare me. After a bit of a rest I made it over to Treetops to see everyone. Thanks to Cyber for saving me some leftover steak, Ron for hanging around long enough for me to meet him and much appreciation to Kristen for throwing my clothes in the wash.
: It was great to finally meet a lot of KatRiders in person that I hadn't met before (Zukifred, Chinto, MEANSTRK, Sky, Ron2, Teddy, Steves, Mike, Kat-a-tonic, all the guys at TWI, and all the others I'm forgetting. Please forgive me) Here's some pics:
I thought TWI was pretty cool, but I'm easily impressed
May not seem small to you but that's pretty good for me!
RALLY SUGGESTIONS:
1. We should have a hugh, I mean gigantic, "visible-from-the-Shuttle" sized KR banner planted by the entrance to the TreeTops if we are able to grab accommodations there. It would really help us navigational-challenged folks.
2. Maybe get a couple of those ATV flags and attach them to various bikes so that wandering KatRiders can identify a friendly bike or two.
3. Nametags with screennames and real names. Ok, I know it sounds geeky but when you're in a catatonic sleep-deprived state it's sooooo helpful.
WHAT THE FRIG WAS I THINKING??!!
Wednesday morning was supposed to be an early morning ride and the photoshoot after breakfast, but it was raining and canceled all of that. No matter, I slept through most of it anyway. My alarm clock was one of TWI's staff banging on the door, "Your guys called and I think they're waiting for you. Oh, and it's check out time." Found Treetops (got lost, again. Memo to me: Buy a stinkin' Garmin), had some breakfast and headed back to TWI with Matt, Char and Fred in the car. Second major error of the trip coming up: I decided to ship back my hardpack and the bulk of my stuff back home and do the rest of the trip with the bare minimum. (Lesson learned: Always carry a rainsuit. More on this later.)
I ended up doing riding the Dragon a couple of times on the way out. Once, on purpose, the second time because I got lost again. After losing a lot of time I found I-81 North and felt pretty good about the timing for Canada provided I got some strategic catnaps and stayed out of the radar traps. All that changed when I got to West Virginia. I pulled in about 1:30am and decided to call it a night, rest until 8:00 then take off. Took me three tries to find a motel (construction crews were taking up most of the beds). Found one on the ground floor but no entrance from the parking lot so I parked right next to my window and proceed to crash for a few hours. I just get inside the room when I hear the crack of thunder and buckets of rain start to fall. I race back out to find some kind of shelter for the the bike then flip on the Weather Channel to the bad news. I've got rainstorms-R-us all the way to the Canadian border. Jeez, this trip is getting really bizarre: Either I cook like a rotisserie chicken or I have to buy scuba gear. The rain is off and on until 9:00 am., so I'm off again, gloriously behind schedule. I made it to Pennsylvania and after watching the Weather Channel at the last few truck stops I realize Canada wasn't going to happen if I was to make it to Washington by Saturday, so I decided to continue on I-81 North to I-80 East.
I believe God was doing some spring cleaning in heaven and found some leftover rain from The Flood in a celestial closet under the stairs.
Loganton, PA is where He decided to dump it.
I swear I saw it coming and couldn't do a freakin' thing about it. Next gas station was 3 miles away and I was soaked to the bone in one. "Ok, make a note: this "ride lean" idea sucked. Evidently the Citgo truck stop in Loganton fashions itself as the country store clearing house for rural Pennsylvania because I found t-shirts from all over PA. This was the big seller:
After an hour it died down enough for me to get going.
I made it to Clearfield and I never thought a 24 hour WalMart could look so good.
HOW TO ATTRACT ATTENTION IN WALMART, or,
"SECURITY TO MEN'S WEAR... DRIPPING WET BLACK MAN IN MOTORCYCLE OUTFIT ROAMING THE STORE..."
If you ever want to rip off a WalMart in the middle of rural Pennsylvania and need a diversion, give me a call.
Actually, I wasn't dripping wet, I was OOZING WATER WITH EVERY STEP! Walking in I grabbed a cart from the crusty 70 year old door greeter and got plenty of double-takes from the few customers and staff in the store as I made my way to the Men's department. No sooner than I threw a shirt in the basket I hear over the loudspeakers, "Would the owner of a motorcycle parked on the sidewalk please move it. Thank you." I looked over at a woman who couldn't seem to be able to take her eyes off me (No ego boost here, she looked to be 80), smiled and said, "I think they might be talking about me." She didn't answer but I could tell by her look that she agreed with my astute assessment. I rolled my cart to the door and walked out past Mr. Grumpy, Crusty, Door Greeter who was rounding up wayward shopping carts. He was the one who promptly ratted me out to the manager for parking on the sidewalk under the awning (It WAS raining).
"Can't park there!"
"Not a problem. Heard the pronouncement."
"Grumble, grumble, grumble!"
I moved my bike out in the rain and when I came back, my cart was gone. Crusty had dumped all my stuff at the go-back counter and neatly placed my cart with the others. Talk about being "on the job". I grabed another cart, being careful not to mess up Crusty's perfectly aligned rows, and headed back to the aisles. As I pass staring employees I met a man and his wife. He takes one look at me and my helmet and says, "Been there, buddy. Where ya' headed?". I said, "Rainsuit section". He nearly doubled over in laughter.
I get back to the men's section and start throwing stuff in the cart. Pants, shirt, socks, underwear. I found a rainsuit, bungees, and a soft backpack, and as I'm checking prices I look out the corner of my eye I see Lt. Crusty from the shopping cart police, watching me like a hawk two aisles over. I remember thinking that unless Crusty is packing heat he's not stopping anyone from walking out of here with free stuff, and with all the attention I was receiving, somebody could walk out with a 42" plasma screen and they'd never know.
I was starting to get a little miffed, but it's OK. "20 minutes from now I'll be 50 miles down the road but you'll STILL be the crusty greeter at WalMart." (Now there's a resume highlight.)
I decide to have a bit of fun. I figure I have some time to kill, it's raining outside... I think I'll see all that this fine establishment has to offer. I browsed the ENTIRE FREAKIN' STORE, even stopping to catch the news in the Audio/Video center. Threw a bunch of stuff in the basket then on my second loop decided against buying it "at this time". Crusty Greeter Dude should have payed me for giving him such a great cardio workout.
I get to checkout and whip out the Visa. The cashier looks at my license and a "oh, THAT explains it" look comes across his face. I take my stuff and walk to the bathrooms and change everything. When I come out guess who's waiting for me at the entrance... my good buddy Crusty! I smile and tell him that, "This is one of the finest WalMarts I have ever been in and I'm going to tell ALL of my friends to come by."
IT'S 106 MILES TO CHICAGO. I GOT A FULL TANK OF GAS, HALF PACK OF CIGARETTES, IT'S DARK AND... I HAVE THE STATE POLICE PULLING ME OVER...
I linked up with I-80 through Ohio, Indiana and Illinois to Chicago. Somewhere outside of Chicago I got stuck behind an SUV from Wisconsin who couldn't decide what lane he wanted to clog up traffic in so when I saw some space I made the pass and enjoyed 90+ up until I passed a State Police officer parked on the median. Didn't see him till I was almost side-by-side. "RATS!" I checked my mirror and saw the tell-tale dust of a Crown Vic taking off at speed so I pulled over as soon as I could (Heck, it was me. No use pretending it wasn't). I had my license ready and helmet off when he slowly walked up behind me. Young guy, mirrored glasses and his muscles had muscles.
"Can I see your license and registration, please?"
Hand him the license and start to pull the registration out of the hump as I watch him walk back to his car for the check to see if I was wanted by Homeland Security, FBI, CIA, BBB, or whatever. A minute later he's back.
"How's the bike treatin' ya'?" As he hands my license back to me.
"No complaints since leaving L.A."
"Nice. I just bought an '07. Faster than stink. You think I should have waited for the '08? Have you seen it? What's the big differences?"
DUDE DIDN'T WANT TO GIVE ME A TICKET. HE JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT BUSAS!!!
We stood on the side of I-80 for ten minutes going over the bike. As he's leaving he says, "You're a long way from home. Be careful out there."
I have to wonder: Would I have gotten these kind of breaks in Oklahoma and Illinois if I was riding a Harley? Gix1000? Duc1098? Wing?
THIS IS ONE !!@#%$#!! LONG TOLL ROAD!
I-80 has got to be one of the longest pay-as-you-go roads I've ever been on. I had no change or cash on me and they wouldn't take my ATM or credit card BUT I COULD WRITE THEM A CHECK! Go figure. And they have the coolest, yuppie, truck/rest stops I've ever stopped at. The heat was starting to kick my tail again, and I was really behind schedule but I thought once I got through Chicago I'd be ok.
NOT!
Chicago turned into one huge traffic jam! It was hot, it was bumper to bumper, and it was going nowhere, really slowly. Highway construction EVERYWHERE on the I-80 through Chi-Town, and it was a mess. "Jeez, I left LA to get away from this mess!" I had two tolls to get through Chicago, one for $.80 cents and the other for $1.65. Unbelievable! Cars sitting 10 deep waiting for the toll guards to make change. I'd gladly round it off to a buck or two if it would get ME OUTTA HERE!!!
FOR ALL YOU CHICAGO RIDERS...
I don't know how you guys do it??!! If the Governator or ANYONE in Sac-Town tries to take away our lane-splitting privileges the Rodney King riots will seem like a slight misunderstanding compared to the wrath of 150,000 riders. After cooking in traffic for almost an hour and seeing almost every stinking off-ramp closed down I said "screw this" and proceeded to act like an "ugly Californian" and split lanes like a criminal. I know I pissed more than a few folks off (including the CBR and Sportster that I passed) but I hoped that my Cali plates would allow them to cut me some slack. I figured if I got pulled over I could always play the, "OMG Officer, sir! I totally forgot I wasn't in California any more!" But after passing three Troopers stuck in traffic, too, I presumed the only thing that could catch me would be a copter.
BREAKING THE BAD NEWS...
I made the split and was now traveling on I-90. In hindsight I should have kept on I-80, but by now I'm bummed and don't really care. I'm hopelessly behind schedule and won't even make it to Chehalis before Lisa leaves for L.A. Amazingly, with that timed pressure off of me the ride became a bit more enjoyable. I started to really think about what errors I made and how to plan better. Timed speed runs and long distance touring should never be combined into the same trip. Do one or the other. I forgot both are not just different rides physically and mechanically but MENTALLY, as well (and that's possibly the most important part of the ride).
MUST GIVE MAJOR KUDOS TO MAD CITY POWER SPORTS...
i was planning to get an oil/filter change in Ottawa but since that was history I was tempting fate by riding so far and hard in such heat. When I got to Madison I was getting really nervous. It was about 6:00 when I took an off ramp to try to at least find a Kragen's or PepBoys to see if they carried any kind of motorcycle oil. Finding an open bike shop this late in the day was out of the question. God must love Busas because just as I crested the hill coming off the freeway was a huge building that said "MAD CITY POWERSPORTS / SUZUKI" Unbelievable! But as I rode through the light I saw a guy locking up. "Sorry, we're closed", he said. It was 6:15 pm, closing time. I asked if he knew of another shop close by that was open and he shook his head. After I told him my story and where i was headed he paused for a second then started to unlock the door. "Come on in". I couldn't thank him enough. If you're ever in Madison, Wisconsin and looking for sales or service, these are the folks to go to! Ask for Stuart, Service Manager.
I changed my oil behind a gas station and headed out into the Wisconsin night (Sorry, couldn't help it - Springsteen lyric).
Called it a night in La Crosse. If I had made it through Minnesota and hit Sioux Falls at daybreak there was still an outside chance to make it to Washington by Saturday evening... but who needed that kind of agony... I WAS NOW FREEZING!! Yes, that's right. After all the heat, humidity and rain it was now 50 degrees and I was freezing. Laugh if you want, but this Cali boy was getting numbnuts. I found a motel with a bunch of bike in the parking lot and crashed until morning.
La Crosse, Wisconsin Biker Gang
THE ASSAULT OF THE BADLANDS
Morning and now comes Minnesota, South Dakota and Wyoming. I thought West Texas was the flattest, most hypnotic place to ride a bike but SD and Wyoming could give a good run at the title. Minnesota was beautiful, green and lush... till Jackson, then it became a suburb of South Dakota. I was making good time but getting depressed because it didn't feel like it. Everything looked the same. Usually in more urban areas you have visual markers that let you know that you've traveled a considerable distance. From L.A. to S.F. you have a variety of sights and locals: urban, beach, coastal, flat land, farmland, mountains, valleys, sand, hotties in tanktops, Porsches you can play with on the highway, etc.
South Dakota. Repeat every 50 miles.
From Western Minnesota to Rapid City to Gillette to Laramie to Rawlins... THE SAME FREAKIN' STUFF. Cows, trucks, ranches, cows, farms, cows, roadkill, ranches, roadkill, cows, big rigs, trucks, bigger roadkill, cows, NON-hotties in tanktops, more cows, exploded roadkill... and everything FLAT (Even the non-hotties in tanktops). One house per mile. In Gillette, I saw a cluster of about 50 homes and, *gasp*, a neighborhood! Urban sprawl had reared it's ugly head in Wyoming! I joke about the monotony of the state but I can only imagine what it's like to go to bed at night and not hear anything. No sirens, no car alarms, just the wind, animals and a totally star-filled sky. I'm sure it's a harder life than cushy, self-absorbed Southern California but it's got to be way slower and more relaxed. But just when I was feeling totally envious and hating the fact that their 4500 sq. ft. homes cost about 1/8 of my 1400 sq.ft. SoCal closet I call a house, it dawned on me me:
"YOU GUYS ARE 1400 MILES FROM THE BEACH?!"
Wyoming. Repeat every 50 miles.
One thing about Wyoming... the jackrabbits out-number the humans about 5 to 1 but sure as heck not on I-80. Louie, I hope you're feeling better. I have to tell you that you were in my thoughts every mile I road in Wyoming.
FINAL SCORE:
Suzuki Hayabusa - 4
Wyoming Jackrabbits - 0
This big guy didn't make it.
Caught some ZZZZZZZZ's at a rest stop, merged with I-80 and headed toward a freeway that I knew, I-15 South into Utah.
AT LEAST IT WASN'T MANMADE
The last time I was in Utah I didn't remember it being this "toasty". I headed south into Utah during the worst wildfire event in remembrance. They had knocked it down in Northern Utah but still fighting it in other parts of the state. The only thing good I can say about it is that unlike most of the wildfires in SoCal that are started by mental a-holes and pyros, all of the Utah fires were caused by lightning strikes. Still, it was a pretty sobering sight.
The gas station attendant said, "It did get a little interesting up here a few days back."
Understatement of the decade.
Passing through St. George I started seeing more and more Cali plates and things started to feel more like home. When I got into Nevada I decided to pull over and TRY and chill for a couple of hours in Glendale, NV. Sin, as much as I would have liked to stop in Vegas and say "Hey", once I got back on the bike I didn't want to stop until I reached the border (Because if I stopped I swear it would have been torture to get back on. But don't feel bad. My Mom lives in Vegas and I didn't even tell her I was in town, either. Sure, I could have had a place to crash for the night, but dealing with 24 hours of, "Lordy, when are you ever going to get rid of that evil thing!" was something I was not prepared to handle right then (Dealing with BMMG - "BlackMamaMotorcycleGuilt" takes days of preparation, prayer, and a good exit strategy.)
Almost home
HOME STRETCH
Naturally, I got slammed by a fast moving thunderstorm from Stateline to Barstow, but by now I really didn't care. I was almost home. I pulled into the driveway exactly at 12:00 midnight.
Here's the stats:
Nine days
Nineteen states
6593 miles
Two IronButt patches : Saddlesore 1000 (1000 miles in 24 hours) & Bunburner 1500 (1500 miles in 36 hours)
And despite all that happened along the way...
MAN, IT WAS FUN!!! I can't wait to do it again
The Busa ran flawlessly. No problems whatsoever. Even if I'm fortunate enough to get a new Busa next year, rest assured, this bike will be in my garage a long, long, time, God-willing. Chinto, you are never going to be disappointed. The big bores ROCK!
Things to do differently:
1) Pack like I'm touring
2) Screw the schedule
3) Ditch the vanity and get the cool Corbin Beetle Bags, or something.
4) Invest in a Garmin
5) Unless I want to get close to nature, stay on highways that have things to actually look at.
6) PICK A BETTER SEASON!!
I will buy a set of these for next year - minus the backrest (cheezy if you ask me.)
AGAIN, MAJOR PROPS TO:
1) BlackFalcon for keeping the KR family updated
2) Lisa for the privilege
3) Cyber for bringing my stuff
4) Matt, Char and Cyber for mailing my stuff :P
5) Kristen for washing my duds
6) Finally getting to meet Meanstrk - thanks for waiting!
7) Junior and the Canadians for their understanding
8 ) At least one member of the Oklahoma State Troopers and the Illinois State Police for giving me a break
9) Andy (lopeha) and his wife for the hospitality
10) Jimmy for keeping tabs
11) Mad City PowerSports - great customer service
12) Ed and the gang at Southland for once again, prepping my bike perfectly
13) Dunlop - these Qualifiers are great, lots of tread left
14) And Suzuki for building the BEST DAMN BIKE ON THE PLANET! (Outside of the Katana :P )
First of all, the ride was cut short due to weather and timing. Didn't make it to Canada or Chehalis, Washington, but boy did I give it a good try. One thing I learned is if you want to get the most out of a trip like this you CAN'T be on a time schedule and in reality, it's at least a two week trip. I passed by so many places and sights that I wanted to stop and explore but couldn't. It made me sick. Thanks to all that kept track of me: Andy, Jimmy and Dennis. BlackFalcon that kept the updates flowing on his crazy dad. Lisa was bummed that I didn't make it to Chehalis but all is forgiven.
, and a big thanks to Junior and the rest of the Canadian Contingent for being understanding. Revised route
STARTING OUT
Remembering the experience I had the last time I did this I made a few changes to start the ride. My goal was to do a major speed run in the beginning to get the Iron Butt stuff out of the way. I figured (and I was correct) that I would be too drained after The Gap to do any kind of timed run. This time I also packed a bit more intelligently (or so I thought). Ditched the 17" PowerBook and borrowed BlackFalcon's iBook, small Sony Cybershot, rainsuit, spare shirt and underwear, and packed it all in my Axio Hardpack. I had sent my leathers and a change of clothes to Cyber a week earlier BY USPS, and they arrived with no problems. UPS bites (learned my lesson).
REVIEW:
The Axio Hardpack lived up to it's billing as a very aerodynamic backpack. Little to no wind buffeting. Comfortable on the back, but as the ride continued the weight became a huge burden.
CONCLUSION:
Vanity sucks. I have always liked the Busa hump. It is one of the most unique parts of this bike. Practical (it's hollow and can be used as storage) and aerodynamically functional. I've noticed also that most East Coast riders ditch the hump and exclusively use the rear seat. (Hey, 'ya can't pimp out the bling, stretch the swingarm and carry your big booty, thong-showing, hottie with minimal gear unless you have the seat on) The majority of West Coast riders keep the hump on, so I like to represent.
I also don't find the custom luggage for the Busa particularly attractive. But believe me, by the time I left The Gap the custom Corbins I saw on a couple of Busas looked like the most beautiful things I have ever seen. (Really... The black LE I saw leaving the CROT when I left was a member of Hayabusa.org and the set-up looked sweet). Instead of leaving at midnight I wanted to leave at 4:00pm on Saturday. That way I could do night riding all the way through Arizona, New Mexico and Texas before having to pull it over. Naturally things don't go exactly as planned and I left at 8pm. Late, but it would still put me into Texas by late morning. I pulled into Barstow around midnight and gassed up with the temperature nudging 90. Smart move
Made it through Arizona with no problems and rolled into Gallup early morning, still not hitting any major heat... yet.
They were testing a couple Smart Cars in New Mexico.
Don't ask me why I took this.
Because of my late start Amarillo by noon or Oklahoma by late afternoon wasn't going to happen. By the time I got to Amarillo I was pretty much cooked. The odometer said I had traveled 1068 miles so I was pleased that I did earn two IronButt patches, but now it was time to find a motel.
Last time I stayed in Amarillo was right in the middle of the annual Jehovah Witness convention and the only place available was a dump that I swear doubled as a hooker's office. I started to get concerned because the first three places I called had no vacancies (convention again), but I found a very nice Days Inn just off I40 that had a ground floor room available and at a very reasonable price. (The JW's just finished their convention)
After resting for a bit the fatigue started to set in. Like a hammer. Just the few hours of daytime riding really drained me, plus, the beginnings of a sinus headache was approacing. I called Andy (lopeha) and told him where I was and what the timing was turning out to be like. Andy was kind enough to provide a wake-up call for me the next morning. But the Benadryl I took the before I went to bed (and the Waffle House dinner) had other wake-up plans for me. I remembered waking up to Andy's call and attempting to get out of bed, but two hours later the haze was just starting to wear off and I remembered he called but I took a few minutes to remember WHY he called. "Oh, yeah... I'm supposed to be... LEAVING!" I found some Tylenol Sinus DayTime at a drug store, popped a couple and headed out.
WHAT GOOD IS RAIN GEAR IF YOU CAN'T GET TO IT?
Ok, I have no problems riding in rain. But wind and I don't mix. Combine that with windwake from big rigs and I confess... I'm a wimp. After the first truck nearly blew me off the road I had to pull into a gas station/giftshop to wait it out. For an hour. It rained all the way from Amarillo to just inside the Oklahoma border. It didn't start out heavy but you freakin' Texans don't do anything "little", even rain. Thunder, lighting, wind... armadillos. I didn't even have a chance to get the rain suit out of the pack before I was soaked, but the one good thing about riding in this kind of rainy weather is no matter how soaked you get you're assured of being totally dry an hour after it stops. Blasting down the highway in 90+ degree weather will dry you out quickly.
OKLAHOMA'S FINEST
The assault on Oklahoma and Arkansas was draining but was totally expected. The backpack was getting heavier by the mile, though. I don't care how aerodynamic something is - weight is still weight. And the trucks were starting to get on my nerves (no offense, Andy). Highway riding means either staying 100 yards ahead of them or 100 behind, and when you have a unending train of them screaming down the road it's a constant battle between staying away and staying under 65 (uh, like I was going to do that anyway).
About 100 miles from Oklahoma City I found myself stuck behind four rigs doing about 75 and had another one coming up fast behind me. When you get within 300 feet of a truck the buffeting gets intense. My rule-of-thumb was to hang back until I had a clear passing lane that gave me at least 300 ft. of room once I passed to get in the clear. Once I had a clear shot I hit it. When you get in their wake it can get a bit unnerving but I've found that the best way to get through it is to just hug with your knees and keep your upper body loose, trying not to lock your arms in a death-grip. By the time I passed the last truck and moved back into the left lane I was at 110. As I started to slow down I spotted a car pull in right behind me. Hmmm... doesn't LOOK like a Crown Vic but still...
Man, I hate it when they put those stinkin' lights in the grill!
(Note to self: Oklahoma State Troopers not only have Busas but they have acquired Dodge Chargers, too.)
I made it to the side and pulled out the license (Registration and insurance is in the hump). The trooper slowly makes his way to me, eyeing the Cali license plate. I hand him the license and he he says,
"Long way from home. Where you headed?"
"North Carolina."
He does a double-take on the license, the plate, and the bike.
"On this?!"
"Yeah.
"No shit?!! You be careful, 'y hear?""
He handed me my license back and I quickly shoved it back in my wallet and took off. :P
WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL?
I thought about the surprised look the trooper gave me for a long time. Why was this such a big deal? I mean, so far on this trip I'd seen Harleys riding 2-up with tons of luggage, "Wings" with all the amenities of a five-star motel and 1200GS's that looked like they just did Dakar. Not to mention the various metric cruisers parked in motel lots. Why does it always seem like a big deal to people when I do it? Then it dawned on me: I've seen all kinds of bikes but only one other "sportbike" (a ZX-14 going the other direction earlier that morning). People just don't think of the Busa as a bike built for distance. To the novice it's just another crotch rocket, to the average rider it's just a bling-bling speed demon. I figure if I had Corbin BeetleBags people wouldn't think of it as such a big deal.
This time I saw more bikes on the road than before. Even met a guy on a fully dressed Harley Road King who was doing the same ride I was (although he started in Detroit and was working his way back home). He left Needles, California a day before I did and we met in Arkansas. He had a month of vacation time and was using it up on the road.
Hey! Found a Starbucks in Arkansas!
ARKANSAS AND MEETING UP WITH LOPEHA
Andy had emailed directions to his place a week earlier. Lopeha is a trucker, so naturally his directions are spot-on. If he says it'll take 3 hours, it'll take three hours. But directions to someone from the South take on a whole different meaning to someone from SoCal.
Quoting Andy:I'm sure you can find your to Arkieland so I'll start at the first turn off: I-40 East to Exit 127, US64. At the bottom of the ramp turn left & head East. You'll go to thru several stoplights but only one 4-way stop sign at the intersection of US64 & AR5. Turn right & go South on Hwy 5 continuing on straight thru 3 stoplights {the 2nd stop light the road will change to Hwy 321) and go another 6.7 miles where you will come upon the "split" of Hwy 321 & Hwy321 Spur. Stay to the left (nice 90 degree curve) & go another 2 miles & turn right into my driveway. I have a large black plastic mailbox with "2055" in 4" reflective numbers. I'll be near the phone if any problems arise.
First of all, the exits in Cali have names, not numbers, and although we'll be like the rest of the country in 2010 (exit numbers), it'll take 20 years for us to get the hang of it. When you're tired, numbers all seem to run together. It's a lot easier looking for "Manchester Avenue exit off the Harbor Freeway" rather than "Highway 321 Spur". Secondly, the distance between stoplights seems to be way different than in SoCal:
I swear, by the time I got to the third stoplight I thought I was at The CROT!
I don't remember what time I got to Andy's place but it was dark and I was beat. Andy and his wife were gracious hosts and they have two of the coolest dogs I've ever met. After a shower and a call to TWI telling asking them not to cancel my reservations I made the first major error of the trip. We were already running late and I didn't want to hold up Andy and Jimmy any longer so I suggested that we leave right after my coffee and shower. Andy asked me if I was sure I wanted to go without a little nap and I said no. Should have gotten a little shut-eye but wanted to press on.
By the time we got to the Dragon I was totally out of it! I was so exhausted that it was all I could do to just follow Andy's taillights. Going up the Dragon after 2200 tiring miles is one thing, but to do it while damn near falling asleep was sheer lunacy. God was definitely looking out for me because there were a few stretches that I really didn't remember a blessed thing! By the time we made it past TWI on the way to the house staying on my side of the double-yellows had turned into a mere suggestion and all I was doing was riding on sheer instinct. If Andy had ridden off the road into a brick wall I would have followed him. I WILL NEVER RIDE THAT TIRED OR SLEEPY EVER AGAIN. It was by the grace of God that I didn't become someone's hood ornament or become "one with a tree".
TO ANDY:
If it seemed like I was getting more and more ticked off while trying to find the Treetops believe me, it wasn't directed at you. I was tired, exhausted, sleep deprived and just frustrated with the situation. Not mad at you, at all!
TWO WHEEL INN AND MEETING THE KATRIDERS
Once I found TWI I peeled off from Andy. Visions of them giving my room away was starting to scare me. After a bit of a rest I made it over to Treetops to see everyone. Thanks to Cyber for saving me some leftover steak, Ron for hanging around long enough for me to meet him and much appreciation to Kristen for throwing my clothes in the wash.
: It was great to finally meet a lot of KatRiders in person that I hadn't met before (Zukifred, Chinto, MEANSTRK, Sky, Ron2, Teddy, Steves, Mike, Kat-a-tonic, all the guys at TWI, and all the others I'm forgetting. Please forgive me) Here's some pics:I thought TWI was pretty cool, but I'm easily impressed
May not seem small to you but that's pretty good for me!
RALLY SUGGESTIONS:
1. We should have a hugh, I mean gigantic, "visible-from-the-Shuttle" sized KR banner planted by the entrance to the TreeTops if we are able to grab accommodations there. It would really help us navigational-challenged folks.
2. Maybe get a couple of those ATV flags and attach them to various bikes so that wandering KatRiders can identify a friendly bike or two.
3. Nametags with screennames and real names. Ok, I know it sounds geeky but when you're in a catatonic sleep-deprived state it's sooooo helpful.
WHAT THE FRIG WAS I THINKING??!!
Wednesday morning was supposed to be an early morning ride and the photoshoot after breakfast, but it was raining and canceled all of that. No matter, I slept through most of it anyway. My alarm clock was one of TWI's staff banging on the door, "Your guys called and I think they're waiting for you. Oh, and it's check out time." Found Treetops (got lost, again. Memo to me: Buy a stinkin' Garmin), had some breakfast and headed back to TWI with Matt, Char and Fred in the car. Second major error of the trip coming up: I decided to ship back my hardpack and the bulk of my stuff back home and do the rest of the trip with the bare minimum. (Lesson learned: Always carry a rainsuit. More on this later.)
I ended up doing riding the Dragon a couple of times on the way out. Once, on purpose, the second time because I got lost again. After losing a lot of time I found I-81 North and felt pretty good about the timing for Canada provided I got some strategic catnaps and stayed out of the radar traps. All that changed when I got to West Virginia. I pulled in about 1:30am and decided to call it a night, rest until 8:00 then take off. Took me three tries to find a motel (construction crews were taking up most of the beds). Found one on the ground floor but no entrance from the parking lot so I parked right next to my window and proceed to crash for a few hours. I just get inside the room when I hear the crack of thunder and buckets of rain start to fall. I race back out to find some kind of shelter for the the bike then flip on the Weather Channel to the bad news. I've got rainstorms-R-us all the way to the Canadian border. Jeez, this trip is getting really bizarre: Either I cook like a rotisserie chicken or I have to buy scuba gear. The rain is off and on until 9:00 am., so I'm off again, gloriously behind schedule. I made it to Pennsylvania and after watching the Weather Channel at the last few truck stops I realize Canada wasn't going to happen if I was to make it to Washington by Saturday, so I decided to continue on I-81 North to I-80 East.
I believe God was doing some spring cleaning in heaven and found some leftover rain from The Flood in a celestial closet under the stairs.
Loganton, PA is where He decided to dump it.
I swear I saw it coming and couldn't do a freakin' thing about it. Next gas station was 3 miles away and I was soaked to the bone in one. "Ok, make a note: this "ride lean" idea sucked. Evidently the Citgo truck stop in Loganton fashions itself as the country store clearing house for rural Pennsylvania because I found t-shirts from all over PA. This was the big seller:
After an hour it died down enough for me to get going.
I made it to Clearfield and I never thought a 24 hour WalMart could look so good.
HOW TO ATTRACT ATTENTION IN WALMART, or,
"SECURITY TO MEN'S WEAR... DRIPPING WET BLACK MAN IN MOTORCYCLE OUTFIT ROAMING THE STORE..."
If you ever want to rip off a WalMart in the middle of rural Pennsylvania and need a diversion, give me a call.
Actually, I wasn't dripping wet, I was OOZING WATER WITH EVERY STEP! Walking in I grabbed a cart from the crusty 70 year old door greeter and got plenty of double-takes from the few customers and staff in the store as I made my way to the Men's department. No sooner than I threw a shirt in the basket I hear over the loudspeakers, "Would the owner of a motorcycle parked on the sidewalk please move it. Thank you." I looked over at a woman who couldn't seem to be able to take her eyes off me (No ego boost here, she looked to be 80), smiled and said, "I think they might be talking about me." She didn't answer but I could tell by her look that she agreed with my astute assessment. I rolled my cart to the door and walked out past Mr. Grumpy, Crusty, Door Greeter who was rounding up wayward shopping carts. He was the one who promptly ratted me out to the manager for parking on the sidewalk under the awning (It WAS raining).
"Can't park there!"
"Not a problem. Heard the pronouncement."
"Grumble, grumble, grumble!"
I moved my bike out in the rain and when I came back, my cart was gone. Crusty had dumped all my stuff at the go-back counter and neatly placed my cart with the others. Talk about being "on the job". I grabed another cart, being careful not to mess up Crusty's perfectly aligned rows, and headed back to the aisles. As I pass staring employees I met a man and his wife. He takes one look at me and my helmet and says, "Been there, buddy. Where ya' headed?". I said, "Rainsuit section". He nearly doubled over in laughter.
I get back to the men's section and start throwing stuff in the cart. Pants, shirt, socks, underwear. I found a rainsuit, bungees, and a soft backpack, and as I'm checking prices I look out the corner of my eye I see Lt. Crusty from the shopping cart police, watching me like a hawk two aisles over. I remember thinking that unless Crusty is packing heat he's not stopping anyone from walking out of here with free stuff, and with all the attention I was receiving, somebody could walk out with a 42" plasma screen and they'd never know.
I was starting to get a little miffed, but it's OK. "20 minutes from now I'll be 50 miles down the road but you'll STILL be the crusty greeter at WalMart." (Now there's a resume highlight.)
I decide to have a bit of fun. I figure I have some time to kill, it's raining outside... I think I'll see all that this fine establishment has to offer. I browsed the ENTIRE FREAKIN' STORE, even stopping to catch the news in the Audio/Video center. Threw a bunch of stuff in the basket then on my second loop decided against buying it "at this time". Crusty Greeter Dude should have payed me for giving him such a great cardio workout.
I get to checkout and whip out the Visa. The cashier looks at my license and a "oh, THAT explains it" look comes across his face. I take my stuff and walk to the bathrooms and change everything. When I come out guess who's waiting for me at the entrance... my good buddy Crusty! I smile and tell him that, "This is one of the finest WalMarts I have ever been in and I'm going to tell ALL of my friends to come by."
IT'S 106 MILES TO CHICAGO. I GOT A FULL TANK OF GAS, HALF PACK OF CIGARETTES, IT'S DARK AND... I HAVE THE STATE POLICE PULLING ME OVER...
I linked up with I-80 through Ohio, Indiana and Illinois to Chicago. Somewhere outside of Chicago I got stuck behind an SUV from Wisconsin who couldn't decide what lane he wanted to clog up traffic in so when I saw some space I made the pass and enjoyed 90+ up until I passed a State Police officer parked on the median. Didn't see him till I was almost side-by-side. "RATS!" I checked my mirror and saw the tell-tale dust of a Crown Vic taking off at speed so I pulled over as soon as I could (Heck, it was me. No use pretending it wasn't). I had my license ready and helmet off when he slowly walked up behind me. Young guy, mirrored glasses and his muscles had muscles.
"Can I see your license and registration, please?"
Hand him the license and start to pull the registration out of the hump as I watch him walk back to his car for the check to see if I was wanted by Homeland Security, FBI, CIA, BBB, or whatever. A minute later he's back.
"How's the bike treatin' ya'?" As he hands my license back to me.
"No complaints since leaving L.A."
"Nice. I just bought an '07. Faster than stink. You think I should have waited for the '08? Have you seen it? What's the big differences?"
DUDE DIDN'T WANT TO GIVE ME A TICKET. HE JUST WANTED TO TALK ABOUT BUSAS!!!
We stood on the side of I-80 for ten minutes going over the bike. As he's leaving he says, "You're a long way from home. Be careful out there."
I have to wonder: Would I have gotten these kind of breaks in Oklahoma and Illinois if I was riding a Harley? Gix1000? Duc1098? Wing?
THIS IS ONE !!@#%$#!! LONG TOLL ROAD!
I-80 has got to be one of the longest pay-as-you-go roads I've ever been on. I had no change or cash on me and they wouldn't take my ATM or credit card BUT I COULD WRITE THEM A CHECK! Go figure. And they have the coolest, yuppie, truck/rest stops I've ever stopped at. The heat was starting to kick my tail again, and I was really behind schedule but I thought once I got through Chicago I'd be ok.
NOT!
Chicago turned into one huge traffic jam! It was hot, it was bumper to bumper, and it was going nowhere, really slowly. Highway construction EVERYWHERE on the I-80 through Chi-Town, and it was a mess. "Jeez, I left LA to get away from this mess!" I had two tolls to get through Chicago, one for $.80 cents and the other for $1.65. Unbelievable! Cars sitting 10 deep waiting for the toll guards to make change. I'd gladly round it off to a buck or two if it would get ME OUTTA HERE!!!
FOR ALL YOU CHICAGO RIDERS...
I don't know how you guys do it??!! If the Governator or ANYONE in Sac-Town tries to take away our lane-splitting privileges the Rodney King riots will seem like a slight misunderstanding compared to the wrath of 150,000 riders. After cooking in traffic for almost an hour and seeing almost every stinking off-ramp closed down I said "screw this" and proceeded to act like an "ugly Californian" and split lanes like a criminal. I know I pissed more than a few folks off (including the CBR and Sportster that I passed) but I hoped that my Cali plates would allow them to cut me some slack. I figured if I got pulled over I could always play the, "OMG Officer, sir! I totally forgot I wasn't in California any more!" But after passing three Troopers stuck in traffic, too, I presumed the only thing that could catch me would be a copter.
BREAKING THE BAD NEWS...
I made the split and was now traveling on I-90. In hindsight I should have kept on I-80, but by now I'm bummed and don't really care. I'm hopelessly behind schedule and won't even make it to Chehalis before Lisa leaves for L.A. Amazingly, with that timed pressure off of me the ride became a bit more enjoyable. I started to really think about what errors I made and how to plan better. Timed speed runs and long distance touring should never be combined into the same trip. Do one or the other. I forgot both are not just different rides physically and mechanically but MENTALLY, as well (and that's possibly the most important part of the ride).
MUST GIVE MAJOR KUDOS TO MAD CITY POWER SPORTS...
i was planning to get an oil/filter change in Ottawa but since that was history I was tempting fate by riding so far and hard in such heat. When I got to Madison I was getting really nervous. It was about 6:00 when I took an off ramp to try to at least find a Kragen's or PepBoys to see if they carried any kind of motorcycle oil. Finding an open bike shop this late in the day was out of the question. God must love Busas because just as I crested the hill coming off the freeway was a huge building that said "MAD CITY POWERSPORTS / SUZUKI" Unbelievable! But as I rode through the light I saw a guy locking up. "Sorry, we're closed", he said. It was 6:15 pm, closing time. I asked if he knew of another shop close by that was open and he shook his head. After I told him my story and where i was headed he paused for a second then started to unlock the door. "Come on in". I couldn't thank him enough. If you're ever in Madison, Wisconsin and looking for sales or service, these are the folks to go to! Ask for Stuart, Service Manager.
I changed my oil behind a gas station and headed out into the Wisconsin night (Sorry, couldn't help it - Springsteen lyric).
Called it a night in La Crosse. If I had made it through Minnesota and hit Sioux Falls at daybreak there was still an outside chance to make it to Washington by Saturday evening... but who needed that kind of agony... I WAS NOW FREEZING!! Yes, that's right. After all the heat, humidity and rain it was now 50 degrees and I was freezing. Laugh if you want, but this Cali boy was getting numbnuts. I found a motel with a bunch of bike in the parking lot and crashed until morning.
La Crosse, Wisconsin Biker Gang
THE ASSAULT OF THE BADLANDS
Morning and now comes Minnesota, South Dakota and Wyoming. I thought West Texas was the flattest, most hypnotic place to ride a bike but SD and Wyoming could give a good run at the title. Minnesota was beautiful, green and lush... till Jackson, then it became a suburb of South Dakota. I was making good time but getting depressed because it didn't feel like it. Everything looked the same. Usually in more urban areas you have visual markers that let you know that you've traveled a considerable distance. From L.A. to S.F. you have a variety of sights and locals: urban, beach, coastal, flat land, farmland, mountains, valleys, sand, hotties in tanktops, Porsches you can play with on the highway, etc.
South Dakota. Repeat every 50 miles.
From Western Minnesota to Rapid City to Gillette to Laramie to Rawlins... THE SAME FREAKIN' STUFF. Cows, trucks, ranches, cows, farms, cows, roadkill, ranches, roadkill, cows, big rigs, trucks, bigger roadkill, cows, NON-hotties in tanktops, more cows, exploded roadkill... and everything FLAT (Even the non-hotties in tanktops). One house per mile. In Gillette, I saw a cluster of about 50 homes and, *gasp*, a neighborhood! Urban sprawl had reared it's ugly head in Wyoming! I joke about the monotony of the state but I can only imagine what it's like to go to bed at night and not hear anything. No sirens, no car alarms, just the wind, animals and a totally star-filled sky. I'm sure it's a harder life than cushy, self-absorbed Southern California but it's got to be way slower and more relaxed. But just when I was feeling totally envious and hating the fact that their 4500 sq. ft. homes cost about 1/8 of my 1400 sq.ft. SoCal closet I call a house, it dawned on me me:
"YOU GUYS ARE 1400 MILES FROM THE BEACH?!"
Wyoming. Repeat every 50 miles.
One thing about Wyoming... the jackrabbits out-number the humans about 5 to 1 but sure as heck not on I-80. Louie, I hope you're feeling better. I have to tell you that you were in my thoughts every mile I road in Wyoming.
FINAL SCORE:
Suzuki Hayabusa - 4
Wyoming Jackrabbits - 0
This big guy didn't make it.
Caught some ZZZZZZZZ's at a rest stop, merged with I-80 and headed toward a freeway that I knew, I-15 South into Utah.
AT LEAST IT WASN'T MANMADE
The last time I was in Utah I didn't remember it being this "toasty". I headed south into Utah during the worst wildfire event in remembrance. They had knocked it down in Northern Utah but still fighting it in other parts of the state. The only thing good I can say about it is that unlike most of the wildfires in SoCal that are started by mental a-holes and pyros, all of the Utah fires were caused by lightning strikes. Still, it was a pretty sobering sight.
The gas station attendant said, "It did get a little interesting up here a few days back."
Understatement of the decade.
Passing through St. George I started seeing more and more Cali plates and things started to feel more like home. When I got into Nevada I decided to pull over and TRY and chill for a couple of hours in Glendale, NV. Sin, as much as I would have liked to stop in Vegas and say "Hey", once I got back on the bike I didn't want to stop until I reached the border (Because if I stopped I swear it would have been torture to get back on. But don't feel bad. My Mom lives in Vegas and I didn't even tell her I was in town, either. Sure, I could have had a place to crash for the night, but dealing with 24 hours of, "Lordy, when are you ever going to get rid of that evil thing!" was something I was not prepared to handle right then (Dealing with BMMG - "BlackMamaMotorcycleGuilt" takes days of preparation, prayer, and a good exit strategy.)
Almost home
HOME STRETCH
Naturally, I got slammed by a fast moving thunderstorm from Stateline to Barstow, but by now I really didn't care. I was almost home. I pulled into the driveway exactly at 12:00 midnight.
Here's the stats:
Nine days
Nineteen states
6593 miles
Two IronButt patches : Saddlesore 1000 (1000 miles in 24 hours) & Bunburner 1500 (1500 miles in 36 hours)
And despite all that happened along the way...
MAN, IT WAS FUN!!! I can't wait to do it again
The Busa ran flawlessly. No problems whatsoever. Even if I'm fortunate enough to get a new Busa next year, rest assured, this bike will be in my garage a long, long, time, God-willing. Chinto, you are never going to be disappointed. The big bores ROCK!
Things to do differently:
1) Pack like I'm touring
2) Screw the schedule
3) Ditch the vanity and get the cool Corbin Beetle Bags, or something.
4) Invest in a Garmin
5) Unless I want to get close to nature, stay on highways that have things to actually look at.
6) PICK A BETTER SEASON!!
I will buy a set of these for next year - minus the backrest (cheezy if you ask me.)
AGAIN, MAJOR PROPS TO:
1) BlackFalcon for keeping the KR family updated
2) Lisa for the privilege
3) Cyber for bringing my stuff
4) Matt, Char and Cyber for mailing my stuff :P
5) Kristen for washing my duds
6) Finally getting to meet Meanstrk - thanks for waiting!
7) Junior and the Canadians for their understanding
8 ) At least one member of the Oklahoma State Troopers and the Illinois State Police for giving me a break
9) Andy (lopeha) and his wife for the hospitality
10) Jimmy for keeping tabs
11) Mad City PowerSports - great customer service
12) Ed and the gang at Southland for once again, prepping my bike perfectly
13) Dunlop - these Qualifiers are great, lots of tread left
14) And Suzuki for building the BEST DAMN BIKE ON THE PLANET! (Outside of the Katana :P )
. The magnets are cool , but kinda hard to see while in motion ....
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