2007-08-03 CBA Prez attempts SS1K

It wasn't really planned, it just kind of happened. Well, sure, I had made some preparations for an extended ride, like ma king a 'Sanford and Son' back rest out of fda luggage bag and pillow, but that was about it. Now, 800 miles into the ride, I'm seriously thinking about how good a cold beer or two would be, followed by a delicious steak.. and did I mention a nice hot shower? 

Then again, I'm on a mission to Walla Walla, Washington. 27 years ago, to the exact day, I crashed a 1979 Kz1300 in Walla town. A freak thunderstorm had caused a miniature flash flood down Main street, leaving it full of mud and debris. Mud packed up between the front tire and fender, and down we went. So I was off to revisit the scene of the crash. The trip started innocently enough… Get an early start from Creston, CA, obtained the first load of fuel just East of Paso, grab a receipt to document how much gas money I spent on the trip (really!) then just head for Reno on I-80.

Starting out, 0330 Saturday

When the sun rose several hours later, I decided to stop and have a nice leisurely breakfast at Santa Nella, CA. Found a Denny's, ordered Ham and Eggs, water, and a diet Coke. While reading the paper and eating a random thought spiked the neurons… 'Gee, I wonder if later I'll regret stopping for this hour long breakfast' but then I dismissed the thought as being to worrisome and kept on eatin' and readin'. The route to Reno was straight forward, all slab.

Reno bound

Normally, a run from the Hondarosa to Reno I consider to be long.. I'm the Candy Butt Association President you know… but somehow, today… was….. different, and I was pleased to see it was only 10:30AM.

Refueled in Reno, kept heading east looking for some Love.. and I found some here.. Funny name for a town, Lovelock, and I wondered if the town was named after the town council saw two 'lovelocked' dogs or something.

I80 is boring, and to pass time I was taking pix, fooling around with gps, and basically trying to entertain myself when I found my new home!

Shortly after the prison I noticed I was at the 500 mile mark, way beyond the 100 mile limit imposed by the CBA rules. Quickly calculating how much the penalty would be, and how much more it would be if I actually did get 1,000 done in a day I threw all caution and my wallet to the wind and decided right then and there that today would be my first SS1K day on the mighty Crzy8.

Soon enough, the beautiful town of Winnemucca was in my vision. I wonder why town folk feel like they must find the nearest hill, grab a pile of rocks, and then make initials on the hillside of the town name? How bored must one be? Or is it civic pride? Or just a beacon to stop driving, this is home, when coming home drunk from a card game?

Hey, whatcah know, this is my 3^rd state in young day! Hello Oregon!

It was somewhere on the 95 in Oregon, on this road, that I noticed severe vibration from the front tire at any speed over 85 mph. It was bouncing so hard that my radar detector was coming loose from the Velcro and reading the instrument panel was almost impossible.

Later, I discovered the Avon Storm front tire to be more than 1/8" out of round, with severe cupping across approximately 25% of the diameter. This is the last time I ever run Avon Storms on a long trip. Around the house, sure.. they stick like glue and I love the handling but no longer trust them to last on a long trip.

The west is a tinderbox this time of year, and at the Oregon-Idaho border I encountered a fairly large burn.

Vibrating along at 90, geesh, this out of round tire makes the FJR ride just like my Harley, a right hand slow sweeper engages a nice long uphill pull. At corner apex, the radar detector screams and I grenade the rear brake to reduce speed. Sure enough, a county sheriff appears and as he passes, I notice he’s really giving me the stare.

Further up the hill, I pull over to take one last pix of the fire. As I gaze down the hill, I see the Sheriff, lights on, making tracks right for me. Shit. He did get a radar lock on me I think as he pulls up along side of me and rolls the passenger window down.

‘You all right?” he asks. ‘Yes, everything is good officer, just stopping to take a picture of the fire and thought his was the safest spot to do so” says I, hoping he doesn’t notice my somewhat quivering voice.

After an awkward pause, the Sheriff asks ‘Say, is that an FJR1300?’ ‘Yes, yes it is! Most folks don’t know about these bikes, they aren’t all that popular’ I gleefully reply (thinking I’m not going to get a ticket). ‘I almost bought one of them’ my new bud the Sheriff says, ‘but I couldn’t afford one, so I bought a Kawasaki Z….’ We discussed bikes for several more minutes then a radio call brought the Sheriff back to business, and his face visibly hardened back to being the officer of the road, the only law presence for miles around.

‘Say, would it be OK if I took your photo?’ I ask? He says sure, but make it snappy. For some reason I found that really funny and he then realized it too and even laughed a bit. As he was pulling away though, he gave me the look and sternly said ‘Keep it under 80, OK?’ Here’s my new best LEO bud.

Riding on, kind of juiced from the LEO encounter, I was surprised to not see him again. I left perhaps 45 seconds after he did and didn’t see him ahead, behind, or hiding, and I was back up at, uh, 80 all the way to the Idaho border.

The ride is now taking on a new dimension. At 800 miles, I’m pretty much done. It’s been very hot, well over 100F, and even with Skyways fabulous hydration system, even water is tasting bad now, my Candy Butt is starting to freaking bark, the Bill Mayer saddle feels like a brick, my left broken femur leg is demanding attention, and the right knee is chiming in on the pain chorus medley. All this I just hit the 800 mile mark.

Shortly up the road, more temptation to simply stop as I arrive in Baker, Oregon. I like this little town. I smell the oak of a bbq fire, hear live music, and the laughter of people. Lifting my gaze from the fuel tank I look up and see a very nice motel, AAA rated, $65 a night, swimming pool, Jacuzzi, and comp breakfast in the AM. Damn, sure is tempting to just stop. But I want to make Walla Walla by midnight just to say I was there 27 years ago, in a very different frame of mind.

Summoning my courage, my red Candy Butt Ass, my sore knee and left leg, I mount up and head down Main street looking for the Interstate, only to find that Baker City is in midst of their annual hoedown, a real honest to gawd close down Main street, have a band, bbq, dance, and general good time.

If I had seen that before I threw my body back on top of Crzy8, I would have stopped, however, since I was rolling, I just rolled on by, and this moment became my one and only regret during the entire trip.

I am now truly wimping out, having to stop every 50 miles or so, stretch out the legs, lower back, and reassure myself I can do this. Just keep nibbling at 50 miles, Don, that’s only 4 more nibbles and you’ve done it. You can do it. Keep going, you’re mentally alert, it’s just the body that’s failing.

Funny how self motivation really does work. When racing MX, I would actually yell at myself to get going, to ride faster smoother, faster, shut off for corners later, and to jump farther than last time. This, though was different, the voice was much more subtle, yet said with the same conviction as my racing days. Feeling better, I took a photo of myself to document the magical moment of self discovery.

Soon enough, the nibbles led to bites, and I eagerly watched the GPS slowly roll over each .1 mile at a time until, finally, 1,000 had passed underneath the wheels.

Final miles.

Max Speed

Total Time

Entire Route

Epilogue – Well, it’s done and over, but not submittable to the IBA as I didn’t keep a log of my time or get start/finish witnesses. When I first left, I had thought I might get a ss1k done, but didn’t take the time to read the IBA rules, relying instead on what I had heard on the periphery about ss1k requirements.

I do have a start witness, and did talk to the gal at the last gas stop, even discussed it was a 1k day for me, but I’m not going to pursue the cert. After all, I am the CBA president, and a IBA cert would sully my reputation. And.. sometimes it just enough to know you can.

originally posted