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Saddle Sore 1000 on the way home from DVD!!


KMG_365

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So, it has been brought to my attention (again . . . oops!) that I (we, that is neither of us) never posted about our recent Saddle Sore 1000. Leslie is SUCH a better writer than me, I guess I just kept waiting, hoping she would step up with another of her beautiful, poetic, print-it-out-and-show-it-to-your-friends-who-wonder-what-is-wrong-with-you-that-you- spend-so-much-dang-time-on-that-stoopid-website-anyway Ride Tales . . . . but she claims she was just along for the ride and it was really my "Ride Tale", so, to satisfy all those who are interested, I humbly submit the following:

 

It was a dark and stormy night . . . . wait, that's not right--wrong story. Oh yeah . . . .

 

We had a blast at the Death Valley Days last month and we already had pretty much decided to stay an extra day and avoid the craziness of 3 million people all trying to get back to SoCal Sunday night to be able to make it to work Monday morning (God, I love shift-work--don't you BrianT?? laugh.gif ). This turned out to be a good thing because we and DTool were able to help PhillyCrash get his poor busted-up RT (may it rest in peace--{moment of silence} frown.gif ) loaded into the back of a U-Haul truck.

 

We had kicked around the idea of doing a SS1000 on the way home from Death Valley but hadn't really decided to do it before we left, and we didn't really plan accordingly. But we had just gotten the new Russell Day-Long and I was just itching to see if I had just wasted all that money! So Sunday night we say: "Yeah, why not? Let's go for it!"

 

I happened to have packed a print out of the required IBA forms and the 29 tips (for reading material/study purposes smile.gif ). My intent was to try to talk Leslie into it at some future date/trip, but she actually needed no coaxing at all (she, who BTW, is now buying her OWN RT, and flying to Georgia to drive it back to San Diego this April!! Oh God, what have I done??? shocked.gif ). Well, after reading the rules/documentaion requirements, I find I need a copy of the forms/paperwork for each of us, and the copier at Furnace Creek Ranch is on the fritz. So, late Sunday night, while Leslie is laying out a suitable route on the map, I call "The Inn at Furnace Creek" to see if they have a working copier, and I run over there to make another copy (where, BTW, they commence to try to make me feel like something the cat just drug in or just spit up onto the bedspread!). I also top off the gas tank (the gas station doesn't open up until 8:00am), check out the open hours of the lobby for another witness, and the ATM for a starting time/date stamp. When I get back, Leslie (with some sage counsel from DTool smile.gif ) has planned out a route from DV to Lordsburg, NM, then back to San Diego. Cool! We compare notes on all the planning stuff required--can we really pull this ride off so last-minute-half-a$$ed-way-too-little-preparation-flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants?? I'm way too anal retentive for this much spontenaiety!! smile.gif Oh, what the heck--no pressure--if we get tired or have a problem we stop and stay another night (don't really have to be home til Tuesday! smile.gif ).

 

So, after a short, fitful night of very little sleep (don't believe Denny--he DOES indeed snore! laugh.gif ), some borrowed underwear and talcum powder (don't ask! laugh.gif ), we get up at 5:00am, pack up and head out about 5:45. Denny verifies our odometer, signs our starting witness paperwork (with his IBA#, how COOL is that?? smile.gif ) We stop by the Lobby, for another witness (NOT that the witnessed hand of the famous DTool wasn't good enough, mind you--but I figure a little overkill can't hurt!), grab some cash at the ATM check the date/time stamp for accuracy, make a note on it, file it in my wallet, and we're off!

 

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It was a beautiful clear pre-dawn, the roads were empty and we zoomed out of the valley heading for Shoshone and then down to Baker. As we ascend it gets colder and colder, we pass through some stretches that are REALLY cold and I'm really glad I've got heated grips! (Note to self: contact SteveA at HoonHardware for a pair of those bitchin' half-insulated elk-skin gloves I test drove at the Christmas Party. Sweet! smile.gif These thin summer gloves are not quite cutting it!). The layering under the leathers works fine (no electrics other than the grips--you wussies!--actually, I'm just jealous! smile.gif Hey, I live in San Diego!! I shouldn't NEED electrics!)

 

We get to Baker and it feels a bit warmer but the temperature on the world's largest (tallest?) thermometer reads 36F!! Dang! How cold was it back there about fifty miles, then??!! Gas up (get receipt, file it, make log entry) and with hot coco (no coffee for an IBA ride!) and the use of mjames' idea of the hotties in the bathrooms, take about 40 minutes to thaw out (get reciept for meal stop, file it, make log entry--get the pattern here?). The sun is now coming up and we think: "Great, now it will warm up!" Well the clouds keep piling up more and more and they are the thickest right at the part of the sky where the sun would have been. We don't see any sign of the sun but for a few minutes around noon. The sky will be threatening (fog or raining) for the duration of our trip. We followed very close on the heels of some real gully-washers, drove quickly through some other small down-pours, saw some really incredible lightning storms in the mountains of Arizona (we don't grow lightning like that in San Diego!), but we only got rained on for about an hour in total. We had freshly mink-oiled the leathers before we left SD, and they shed the water nicely!

 

The rest of the gas stops were pretty uneventful, we didn't even have to get off the bike at a few of them. We head for Globe, AZ and have a one hour dinner stop. We look at the remaining distance to Lordsburg, NM and at how far we've already come, and figure out that if we skip Lordsburg, go south from Globe to Tucson, AZ, then catch the I-10, to the I-8 back to San Diego, we should come out to just under 1100 miles (a little padding for the notoriously optomistic BMW odometers--no GPS either--wussies!--see above smile.gif ).

 

I figured that at a decent shocked.gif average cruising speed we should make it home between midnight and one O'clock (no V1 either--wussies!!--see above laugh.gif ). If I can stay awake without a satellite radio to keep me company! (Tony, you wussie!--see abo- . . . okay, sorry! crazy.gif ). And with no AutoComm/AirRider for Leslie to help keep me awake . . . (wussie! . . . wussie! . . . wussie! . . . wus- okay! SORRY! ) I start to get a little sleepy on the long, straight, boring stretch of I-10/I-8 just across the border of California. We stop at a rest stop and I take advantage of the Iron Butt Motel there for about 10 to 15 minutes (it's amazing the difference that can make!), make a log entry, and hit the road again.

 

Thank God for my Russell Day-Long, my CeeBailey's windscreen, Throttle Rocker, and Ilium Works floorboards!! HA!! (but no highway pegs either--wus- Ah HA! smile.gif ). We hit the mountains east of the Anza-Borrego desert and I'm now wide awake--as 40-50MPH wind gusts that seem to come from all directions at once try to blow us off the road and down into very deep canyons. Well, at least it's not too cold! We crest the first pass and then we hit it . . . FOG!! Thick stuff, too! I'm flying blind (oh, so that's why they call that white line the fog line! smile.gif ), and of course, with the fog comes the damp, penetrating cold that drives through to your bones.

 

I'm really in the zone, and I'm getting pretty barn sour now. My Tempurpedic Swedish foam mattress is calling to me, seductively, like a siren on the rocks. We fly down the west side of the Tecate Divide, finally dropping below the clouds . . . Wheeeeeeeee!!!!!!! Zoooooooom!!!!! There goes The Golden Acorn, that new, gaudy truck stop/casino, there goes Pine Valley (cool--50 miles to go!), Alpine, El Cajon . . . San Diego!! WooooooHooooooo!!!! We made it!!

 

Okay, now to find a cop for a witness and head to the house! Why does it have to prove so true now, of all possible times, that you can't find a cop when . . . . Okay, the Mid-City Division station is only ten miles from the house! It's in the bad part of town (sorry seanc! laugh.gif ), so there should be a good police presence around there at this time of night. We don't see any squad cars anywhere on the way so we cruise around, get our final gas receipt/date/time stamp, and head to the station.

 

It's after midnight, but we see the seargent's car in the lot--Aha! the Watch Commander is in the station doing paperwork, we'll just ring the bell and . . . (I can already almost feel the soft foam enveloping me as I drift off to sleep . . . ). Whoah, Huh? No door bell. No signs of life. Just a phone number on the door to call for after-hours assistance. Okay, I think, must be a direct line to the inside station desk, so I whip out the trusty cell phone but I get the main 911 emergency comm center instead! Ooops!

 

"No, this is not an emergency, I'm standing outside the Mid-City Division station. My wife and I are doing this Iron-Butt Association Ride, you see. We just left Death Valley this morning, rode 1076 miles by way of Globe, AZ and I see the Sam-Unit in the front of the station and I just wondered if you could call the watch commander and have him come outside to witness our odometer and sign a few witness forms for us." (sounded so simple to me at the time--I was a little tired)

 

"Iron-Butt what??!!! (pause) Is this some sort of charity ride?"

 

I can hear the other dispatchers laughing uproariously in the backgound as they hear her half of the conversation. She would repeat certain key words and the laughing would bubble up again. She's trying to remain professional, I can hear her typing the info into her keyboard, and I'm picturing the perplexed look on the Watch Commander's tired face as he's reading the info scrolling across his alpha-numeric pager's tiny LCD screen . . . "What the . . . .? Does that say butt??!!" I half expect him to come out the door with his gun drawn! ("That guy 'Wurty' must be here . . . They warned us about him at briefing--shoot on sight! ")

 

Unfortunately for us (but even more so for him, I suspect) our officer was fairly humor-impaired. He thought we were completely nuts (no argument from me there, but that's beside the point), and he made no effort to try to hide the fact as he scornfully shuffled through our paperwork. I'm thinking to myself: "Look, buddy this is probably the MOST harmless entertainment you're going to get on this shift, so why not lighten up and enjoy it a little bit?? Stow the Bad-A$$ Cop routine for just 10 minutes, will ya?? You know you're going to get great mileage out of this story at briefing . . . ." But he gravely, and unceremoniously discharges his civic duty (I don't know what else I really was expecting! smile.gif ) and goes back inside. I work with cops almost every day, and almost all of them are really swell guys and gals once you get to know them, but my impression (no doubt due to all the crap they have to continually put up with on a daily basis from us, the public) is if you're not on the inside then their guard is up. I can't say as I blame them one bit! I have this same conversation with them often: I'd rather jump into a ripping structure fire with smoke and flames blowing out all the windows, or pick up some guy with his blood and guts spilling out all over me, than have some nutcase with a semi-automatic shooting to kill me, or stopping some strange looking car on a dark and lonely road all by myself with no back-up for miles--No thank you!! My hat's off to these folks! (Wow, I just hijacked my own thread!! Coool!!)

 

About a mile from the station we pass a cop in a squad car sitting in a parking lot looking bored and in need of a really good laugh. Oh well, too bad for us (and him smile.gif ). We went home and poured ourselves into bed. We toyed with the idea of jumping up bright and early in the morning and tacking on another 500 miles by driving to Ojai and back to get the Bun Burner 1500 cert. (1500 in 36 hours), but your own bed can be very persuasive, nay insistant, after a long ride.

 

Final (unofficial) stats: 1076 miles (indicated) in about 18.5 hours.

 

Leslie and I just loved our new Day-Long. Her only complaint was that she never got to drive! "Awwww, go get your own RT!" I said. Oooops, that'll teach me! smile.gif Now I'll NEVER get my heated clothing, V1, XM radio, GPS, AutoComm, highway pegs . . . . I wonder if I can find any buy-one-get-one-free deals . . . ? I'm accessorizing for two these days, you know!! laugh.gif

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Absolutely GREAT story, Jamie. Leslie does indeed write beautifully. But there's nothing wrong with your tome. In fact, in several places throughout your tale, I could actually hear your voice. The rhythms of the prose matched your speaking tempo perfectly. And a couple of times I laughed. To me, that's an indicator of something well written. If the humor is well-structured and sufficient to make me surrender my old-journalist's scrutiny.

 

No GPS. No electrics. No XM radio (no radio of any kind). And no FRS. That's also how Sean Daly and I did our simultaneous Iron Butt back in March of '01. So I gotcha on all the "wussy" comments. Fun read and it brought back some nice memories.

 

Now all that's left for you two is to do it together, side by side, on his and hers RT's.

 

Leslie, why do I think I'm coming in late on THAT discussion?

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Better late than never!

 

A couple of weeks ago I was on the verge of posting a "nag" about the SS ride tale that you promised in your DVD tale. But, I figured Leslie had become so focused on her new acquisition, and then wiped out by what must have been an exhausting session of T-Shirt modeling smile.gif, that maybe it just wouldn't happen. Since I am always entertained when you or Leslie post, I was a little chapped at missing an opportunity to live vicariously through her prose or yours.

 

You made up for it. Thanks!

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Jamie, what a great write up, you had me sitting on the edge of my seat reading the whole story. I too completed a SS a couple of years ago and while reading your story I found myself wanting to jump up and go do another one. Your comment about the lure of the bed reminds me of a story a friend on mine told me when he first tried for a SS. He lacked only 50 miles to complete the SS when he stopped at his house for a rest, he never could get up to finish the last 50 in time. He never would have believed it would be so difficult to get up after a few hours and ride the last 50 miles. Eventually he completed the SS right after I did mine.

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That was worth waiting for. Fun writeup. You really had me going with all that accessory-challenged talk. Then I remembered that you have one of the coolest RT's anywhere with more than a few carefully chosen accessories of its own. This is not to mention the second RT on it's way to your garage. No sympathy here pal, sorry.

 

Home from Death Valley via New Mexico? And ordinary people don't get this?

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