| Author | Message | ||
     V2win |
I posted this in the SLAB section but thought some of you might like to read it also.It's noon on Thursday, Nov 1 2001. I just got up after riding an Ironbutt 1000. What's an Ironbutt? Riding 1000 miles in 24 hrs or less, that's what. Why do it? Damned if I know. I have a friend who rides more in one year than most do in a lifetime. His name is Bob. He just finished his Bun Burner,(1500 miles in 24 hrs.) a few days ago. He loves it, but he may be crazy too. Riding one of these is a lot more than just riding. You have a long time to just think. Think about many things. More on that later. The bike. I ride a 97 Buell S3T. The odometer now reads 47,922 miles. I bought it new in the fall of 97. Its not one of the brands that most who do these sort of things, think of, when preparing for such a ride. I ride it. I like it. That's all that matters. Never was much of a joiner anyway. When I bought it, it was silver like many of that year. After a year or so, another friend of mine, John and I painted it a bright metallic blue with a silver/gray checkered racing stripe. I like that too. Have not seen another like it since. Some motorcyclist are like that. They don't want their bike looking like someone else's. This fall, another friend of mine is going to help me do a little engine work. It's time. I don't want it running like the rest either. The ride. I decided that if I was going to do a 1000, that I didn't want to ride the entire way on the interstate. So I planned out a route that would allow me to do some nice twisty roads until dark and then I could jump onto the interstate system back home. I live near Lonedell Mo. Nothing more than an intersection of two roads really. The only business is Wagner's. A Mobil gas station/deli/Farmers Bank combination. I left from there at 7:35 am Thursday after getting the required forms filled out by a witness. Regina who works there signed for me. Headed west. As I left the lot, a grandmother type with a youngster flips me off. Guess I must look like somebody she feels for. Rode to Cuba. No, not that Cuba. The other one. In Missouri at I44 and Rt.19. The one where a gal once ask me to show her what I was made of. I did. I headed south on 19. Thru Steelville and then Cherryville. No, that gal was not from there. Rode on down to Salem Mo. Time was 9:21am. Since it was Halloween I thought I might see a witch or two. No luck. Gassed up there and bought some candy for the tank bag. Bob had suggested bananas. Easy to eat and just toss the left overs, he said. After seeing what those gals on the internet do with bananas, I decided not this morning. That reminds of a show I once saw in Cleveland. A gal with a boa and a boiled egg....... Back to the ride. Somewhere near Eminence a tom turkey tries to commit suicide by running into me. I see him in time and brake hard. Missed him. Arrived in Hardy Arkansas at 11:21 am. Had a Royale with cheese at the local McDonalds. You did see the movie, didn't you? Pulled into the first gas station I saw. There was a hole about 5' deep and 8' in diameter smack in the middle of the lot. It had a small stake sticking out of it. Glad I was paying attention. Turns out that their time is off on their receipts so I decline their service and ride up a ways to another station. The girl there ask me where I'm from? They don't see many people walk thru their door wearing a Belstaff Typhoon jacket and pants. After I explain what I'm doing, she ask "are you going to be on the news?" "No", say I with a smile. I head west on Rt. 62. A few miles on and there he is. Before I can react he's past me, heading the other direction. I look in my mirror. Brake lights! Damn. He keeps going. No cherries. Maybe I went by him so fast, that he didn't see me. Just heard that Vtwin thunder by. Maybe He figures he will never catch me. Maybe I'm just lucky. I slow a bit. This road sucks. The speed limit ranges from 45 to 55. I could easily do 80. There is another one, heading east too. Glad I slowed down to a somewhat normal speed. Get into Harrison Ar. at 1:41 pm. Gas and potty. Ready to rumble. Head south on Rt.7. This is going to be fun now. The first few miles is normal and then lots and lots of curves, up and down, and great views. Right off the bat there is road construction. I sit in line waiting for the flagman to let us go. Finally we get the ok. I pass the cages 2-6 at a time until no one is in my way. Then I hit the good stuff. I love it when the road sign says "curves and steep grades next 37 miles." I stop in Russellville at 3:40 pm for gas and a coke. A 300# bro pulls up on a Busa. Says, "Hi, is that a Buell? Sure is pretty" "Thanks", I say. He wants to know where I'm from and headed. I explain what I doing. "Maaaan, yous craaazy!" he says. "Yeah, I know" I say. He leaves. You can't be really crazy if you know you are. Can you? Soon a guy driving a Caddy pulls in. Gets out and walks over to me. "Don,t see many of those around here" he says. I explain what I'm doing. He says he is in the motorcycle business. Starts to tell me all about Power Sports here in St. Louis, and how they got ripped off by the general manager. "Really?" I say. I know the story but don't let on to him. He goes on to tell me how he works at night so he can do his deals with his China partners and how he is getting ready to bring a Chinese bike to the States. I have no time to chew the fat. Got to come and go. I pass another station as I'm leaving town. There's a woman filling her car. "Nice" I think. Funny how "that" radar is always on. Note to wife: I just noticed, that's all. Soon after Russellville, Rt. 7 gets back to the good stuff. Lots of curves. Lots of 180's. You know. The ones where the road sign has an arrow pointing back in the direction you came from. Sign say 25 mph. I take them at 50. Don't want to push it more than that. I'm alone in the middle of Arkansas and on a time schedule. The sinking sun is an incentive to pick it up a notch. I want to be off the back roads by dark. I hit Hot Springs at 5:00 pm. Rt 7 goes thru the park. If there's one thing I have learned over the years; its to stay out of National Parks if you want to get somewhere soon. I head east to get on I30 and south to Arkadelphia Arkansas, my southernmost point on the ride. Road construction and one lane all the way down. 45-50 mph. Got to do it. Got to get to Arkadelphia. By the way. Its name is much prettier than the town. At least the part I saw. I'm stuck in a line of buses, trucks, cars, all the way. "Arkadelphia next two exits" the sign says. I take the first. There is a truck behind me. I'm doing 50. Exit signs reads 25mph. No problem. My lights pick up something on the ramp. Damn! GRAVEL! ALL over the apex of the curve. Downshift. Get off the brakes.Lean forward over the tank. Right foot on the ground. Give it a little gas now. Made it! Parker and Carr would be proud. This reminds me about the time Corkey Keener and I shared the same hospital room. He had broke his leg at the Peoria TT. I had undergone surgery for injuries while getting ready for an endurance national. Both broke up and waiting to heal. I think I still have the T-shirt he gave me. Had it hand painted. Air brushed by one of those venders that follows the racing circuit. White, with a guy riding a girl like she was a bike. Holding onto her wrist like they were the grips of the handle bar.That was then. This is now. Back to the ride. It's 6:25 pm as I leave Arkadelphia. It's all interstate now back to the house. Put the throttlemiester on 80 mph. and hunker down for the ride. I arrive in West Memphis Ar. at 10:12 pm. Gas up and a coke. I put an extra sweat shirt on, my neck warmer and warmer gloves. Speaking of gloves. My regulars are a pair of the old original blue Buell gloves. Josh doesn't like them. But I do and that's what counts. They have over 45,000 miles on them now and are starting to show some character. They have proved to be very reliable. My next pair will probably be Held. I'm ready and back on the road, St. Louis bound. The clouds have cleared and the sky is clear. A full moon tonight. What's that? A flash of light. I look to my left and high in time to see a meteor break up into thousands of pieces and burn up in the atmosphere. Cool! It must have been a big one. The winds have died down and I can ride for a long way without touching the handlebar. I'm bored. It passes the time. The road here is like me in the morning. Long and straight. Well longer than normal anyway. I ride on, arriving in Sikeston Mo. for gas. The first station has several squad cars in the lot. I go to the MFA station to fill up. Its 12:18 am Nov.1. It's 2:30 am when I pull into the Denny's in St. Louis for some breakfast. This one is a poor example. Dirty floors. Slow service. Bad food. Young people eating a late dinner/early breakfast are there. Most have been to Halloween parties. Still in costume. I eat, then ride over to a close QT for gas. My M/C will not work. Pump says see attendant. I find out later that MasterCard had put a block on my card. They saw all these little charges up and down the state of Arkansas and thought maybe someone had stolen my card. I hate credit cards but sometimes you need them. I try not too. I arrive back in Lonedell at 4:00 am. Wager's doesn't open until 4:30. Gives me time to get my paper work in order and ready for the required signatures. Regina arrives early to open. Cool. I fill up and clock out at 4:19 am. The ride is officially over. All I have to do is make copies of every receipt and my log, send money and get my very own "Ironbutt--World's toughest riders" plate frame. I may, or I may not. Like I said, in the beginning, you have lots of time to think, especially on the Interstate. Most of those thoughts will stay with me, except this. When your faced with someone who intends to kill you, you have two choices. Kill them first or die. We need to lay Afghanistan to waste and make an example for those who would do us harm. As they say, Kill them all, let God sort them out. John Calhoun St.Louis, Mo. |
