I
took this photo just before I bought gas at this station in Barstow.
This Monday morning came before I wanted it to. I don't mean that I was worn out, or run down, or didn't want to get out of bed. I mean almost the exact opposite. I crashed in bed early and woke up ready for the day at about 4:30 AM. Ordinarily that would be no problem; I'd just watch the early news, buy a paper, and have long breakfast before I hit the road. This time though, I knew I was starting a day that would last longer than 24 hours if everything worked out OK. Yup, I was going for an "official" certification that I am a true nut case. You know, do 1,500 miles in less than 24 hours. Geeze, I could even get me one of them "Iron Butt" motorcycle license plate frames.
I decided on 1,500 miles because it seemed likely that I could quit after 1000 miles if I wanted or needed to, and I still would have gone farther than I had ever gone before or ever intended to go again in 24 hours. I also planned a "whoosie" route that followed the SLAB. In years past, I wouldn't have considered traveling 1,500 miles exclusively on SLAB. I decided to make a few concessions to make up for riding "Bear" with no cruise control, riding "Bear" 4,500 miles in the previous 10 days, and just generally being an old fat guy with little to prove and less to prove it with.
Sounds good huh? My problem was two-fold and had to do with starting such a run so early in the morning. The first was, who the heck am I going to find to witness and certify my starting time/mileage/location at 6:00 in the morning? And second, after 1,500 miles, I planned to be in Kansas City just as early the next day and who was I going to find in K.C. to verify my arrival that early in the morning? I wanted to complete the ride at the Kawasaki shop in Independence, Missouri, where I bought "Bear" and his earlier sibling. Well, dang it! If I wait a few hours to start, I'll have to arrive without sleeping for 26 or 27 hours, rather than "just" 25. We'll just have to find a way to so this ... or at least attempt it.
There's no suspense, I did the whole dang thing . .. 1,500 miles in less than 24 hours. It would have been a lot easier to do if my body was about 25 years younger. Here's about what I turned into the Iron Butt Association, with the requisite receipts and a check.
Starting Point: Barstow, California
September 14, 1998
06:37 AM Pacific
Ending Point:
Kansas City, Missouri
September 15, 1998
07:40 AM Central
Total Time: 23 hours, 03 minutes
Total Miles: 1,534 miles, verified by the Iron Butt Association.
Trip Log:
The motel clerk gave me directions to the police station, about 1.5 miles from the motel (her estimate). When I arrived at the station, I noticed that the San Bernardino County Sheriff's office (Barstow Station) was also right across the street. Wrongly guessing that the Sheriff's office might be a little more helpful than the municipal police, I visited the Sheriff first. Apparently for security reasons, no one manned the enclosed window in the entrance area at that time of the morning. A sign said to pickup a nearby wall telephone and speak to the dispatcher for help. I heard the dispatcher's muffled voice grumbling to someone about something before she told me that the Sheriff's office didn't have any deputies available for my Iron Butt request.
No sweat, I thought. I still had the Barstow Police Dept. I went across the street and found the same arrangement. No person, only a wall phone to talk to. I called and the dispatcher listened to me. She also said there were no police officers available at the time. I figure a slow walk across the street and 5 rings were enough time for the police to get a call from the sheriff's office and figure they didn't want much to do with this either. I was there around 6:15 AM.
I made one more try with a customer at the starting gas station, but the guy looked at me like I was asking for a quarter on a city street. He said he needed to get to work and brushed by me. The gas station clerk was pretty busy and I didn't want to make my problem, her problem. Later though, I asked her to initial the time on the receipt. Looking back on it, she might have witnessed the start if I had suggested that she list the station's address and phone number. Before I "had to" bother her for the time/initial, she looked like she needed a third hand to keep up with the traffic at the register. Well all right, I'll just try verifying my location and time using my motel receipts too; one with a date/time stamp showing I checked out of the motel early that day and the other showed that I was riding a Kawasaki Concours when I checked in.
1. Barstow, California. Time: 6:37 AM Pacific - Refueled. I noticed that the receipt did not include the time, so I went back into the station and asked the clerk to write the time on the receipt and initial it. She did it without a problem. I zipped up my jacket, jumped on "Bear," and headed north on I-15 toward Las Vegas. I zipped across desert on autopilot and was there without really noticing the ride. Vegas didn't have much of a rush hour when I went through, so it didn't slow me down too much. Vegas doesn't hold much of an attraction for me, so I didn't stop.
I took this photo just before I bought gas at this station in Barstow.
2. Mesquite, Nevada. Time: 9:52 AM Pacific - Refueled. I was still on I-15. I stopped about 10 minutes here. This town is right on the Nevada-Arizona border. The heat was mounting already, so I took off my riding jacket and enjoyed the day in a t-shirt. I bought a candy bar at the gas station and saved it about an hour before I attempted to eat it while I rode. I learned the joy of trying to unwrap it and stuff it in my mouth with a full-face helmet on while I rode with no cruise control ... not a pretty sight..
3. Richfield, Utah. Time: 1:45 PM Mountain - Refueled. I stopped about 10 minutes. This stop occurred after I turned east onto I-70. I-70 would carry me all the way home to Missouri. It would do the same if I lived in Denver, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Columbus, Wheeling, or Baltimore.
4. Fruita, Colorado. Time: 4:35 to 5:02 PM Mountain - Refueled. Still on I-70. The station was co-located with a Wendy's Hamburgers restaurant. I took the opportunity to wolf down two cheeseburgers and a diet Dr. Pepper. I spent almost 30 minutes at this stop; it was the only meal (?) I ate en route for the duration of the ride. After leaving Fruita, I-70 started climbing the Rockies. It didn't seem like it was long after I climbed back onto "Bear" that I had to put my riding jacket on. I stopped at a roadside "View Sight" for a couple of minutes to put on the jacket and ward off the coming chill; I burned a minute or two to squeeze in a few knee bends and stretching exercises before getting back to the task at hand. I had to slow down in the mountains, but managed to stay near the posted speed limit most of the time. I'm familiar with long haul fatigue and ran through my tricks to stay focused on the road.
5. Idaho Springs, Colorado. Time: 8:25 PM Mountain - Refueled. I was still on I-70. I stopped here for bout 15 minutes whether I wanted to or not. ""Bear" was thirsty. The gas pump would not accept my credit card. The gas station clerk piped up on an intercom to say that Citibank wanted verification of my identity. They apparently wanted an explanation about why I had made a bunch of $5-$7 gas charges all over the west in the past several days. I didn't want to get into a hassle with the clerk or Citibank, so I plugged in a different credit card used it for the remainder of the trip. I must have screwed myself out of 50 cents in Drivers Edge points on the Citibank card - darn!
I had to slow down while going through Denver; the police were making themselves seen. I entertained myself watching the cages grow quickly in my mirrors, only to slow down with the rest of us to follow the black and white parade. Somewhere between Denver and Limon, CO, I had to stop for 5-10 minutes while the highway patrol cleared a couple of wrecked pickup trucks from the road. It was getting very late, and I was getting cold and very tired. I decided to call it quits. A trucker was hassling me for no apparent reason, so I stopped at the west Limon exit to find a room. About this time, I was feeling pretty stupid about trying to ride 1,500 miles. I mean, this feat and common sense don't often fit in the same sentence. But then the Super8 was full (said the sign in the window), so I dug out a long-sleeve T-shirt, put it on over my t-shirt, and headed back out on the highway. I talked myself into continuing by convincing myself that saving $50 for a motel was like getting paid to continue. It sounds pretty dopey, but it worked for me. It worked out well too because Automap shows that Limon is not quite 1,000 miles from Barstow, even though my odometer showed that I had ridden about 1,050 miles up to the time. There's worthy advise there from Iron Butt Association's Michael Kneebone - "Don't trust your odometer." I was in Limon only 5 or 10 minutes. I wanted to spend 8 or 9 hours there.
6. Burlington, Colorado. Time: 11:45 PM Mountain - Refueled. Yup, still on I-70. I stopped here for about 15 - 20 minutes. The gas pump didn't have a credit card feature, so I had to pay cash inside. After I'd pumped the gas and gone inside, I learned I had to wait 5 or 10 minutes more to get a receipt because two clerks were changing shifts. They had to count the cash and use the computer to balance before the relief clerk could print my receipt (using the same computer). Dang! Burlington is in the middle of nowhere, near the Colorado-Kansas border. I told the clerk I was real happy that they were open that time of night, but not so happy that I had to wait so long for a receipt. He was working about as fast as he could to help me out. The wait allowed me time to whiz and more time to dig out my sweatshirt. Well, three layers and a jacket ought to do it. What a change from ride west a couple of weeks before. Even though I was losing elevation, it wasn't getting any warmer. Aahh, a stretch here, a bend there, and I was ready to go again.
7. Russell, Kansas. Time: 3:35 AM Central - Refueled. Still on I-70. I stopped about 10 minutes here in Bob Dole's hometown. Bob's town was getting ready for the upcoming election. They wanted their favored son in the Whitehouse before spring. Check out the time and my location here. There are definite benefits for trying this trick on the SLAB, as opposed to your favorite road to grandmother's house. The miles just kept skimming by.
8. Kansas Turnpike. Time: 6:31 AM Central - Refueled. Still on I-70. I stopped about 15 minutes at this turnpike gas stop. I felt a little groggy while riding through Topeka, so I turned into the fuel plaza before I really needed to buy gas. I didn't fill the tank because I knew that K.C. wasn't far off and I'd need to refuel there to record my ending time. The prairie at this lower elevation was quite a bit warmer than the western high plains. I took off the sweatshirt and put it into my tank bag. Another whiz, a few more stretching exercises, and a rising sun (finally) did me a world of good and I was able to continue safely, knowing the last few miles were near, waiting by the road.
9. Kansas Turnpike. Time: 7:15 AM Central - the eastern-most toll station. Toll=$1.75. Still on I-70. I surprised myself and remembered to ask for a receipt.
10. Kansas City, Missouri, Time: 7:40 AM Central - Refueled. This filling station is about 4 miles south of downtown K.C. and city hall, but near my home. I figured the extra 3 or 4 miles would help make sure my trip exceeded the 1500 mile limit. I filled "Bear's" tank quickly and went about 1/4 mile to my home. I ‘spose you think I went to bed right away, huh? Nope, I called Motor at work to let her know I was a live and well. Then, I lounged around for about 2 hours. After a while, I passed out ‘til Motor came home from work.
Good golly, Molly - I made it! And ... I'll never do it again.
11. Next Day - Independence, Missouri. My Kawasaki dealer doesn't usually open until about 10:00 am. Even though the mechanic, Jon (Harley Davidson Forever) lives above the place. I didn't want to get him upset or his dogs excited that early, so I delayed my trip to verify the mileage on the bike. I intended to go over there later on the day I arrived home, but I just couldn't push myself out the door and onto "Bear" again until the next day.
On September 29, 1998, I received verification from the Iron Butt Association that I had indeed completed a 1,534 mile ride in less than 24 hours. And yup, they sent me one of them license frames. You can satisfy your curiosity about how many lost souls there are like me on the road by checking out the Iron Butt Association Pages at:
http://www.ironbutt.com/ssbbfin.htm
Not too many, huh? Well, there's a few more than those on the list, but not quite as many as you hear talking. Some guys really do this kind of thing just to prove something to themselves and they don't need certification for gratification. Me? Hell, I don't know. I guess I just wanted one more completely irrational act before I succumbed to those gray hairs. Yup, call it what you will .. ... it was fun. Yup, I'm finally certifiable. Yup, I ain't never doing that again.
And now a word about my sponsor. I don't know many women who are willing to let their husband live a little every day and who understand the need for some of us to run off on our own once in a great while. "Bear" is a real treat, but he has a long row to hoe before he can compete with Motor.
Life is as good as it is short. The last twistie is coming up faster than you think. You know you wanna go. So do I.
Live Free!
Go back to San Diego, Long Beach, and the southern California coast.
