A Shark Nose, In-State SS 1000

[JAORE]

I got home last night from an In-State (Alabama) SS-1000 ride.... with a theme.

But first a little personal history with IBA attempts. I've been on four IBA ride attempts. One resulted on a certificate on my wall and I believe this latest will as well. But each has had.... challenges. Soooo, to make a short story long:

On my first attempt at a SS 1000, four of us planned a trip to Las Vegas. Riding buddy Mike suggested he and I ride there while our wives flew. Great idea. First stop for us would be Amarillo roughly 1050 miles away by mostly Interstate. It went great. A bit of rain but we pulled into our final fuel stop at just over 17 hours at roughly 1 am. No muss, no fuss. Back on the frontage road, the hotel at the very next exit. The frontage road was freshly chip sealed and no pavement markings had been installed yet. At the entrance to the freeway there were no markings at all except there were a set of large, retroreflective poles visible. Turns out those were well past the gore area and placed to keep a local trucking firm from crossing the curbed gore area. As we approached the entrance a Mustang flew by us and forced Mike to the right. Just enough to contact a curb. Bike flipped twice, Mike flipped once. I pulled to a stop with mu bike angled to protect the body of what I assumed was my dead friend. I dismounted and wondered how to break the news to newly widowed Debbie. Got my helmet off and Mike was gone. Tough old bastard had crawled up over the curb and was on the cell phone with Debbie. Badly bruised but nothing broken we spent the night in the hospital. I told him we are NOT leaving there until he could pull up his pants without my assistance. Friendship has limits. The next day we took care of insurance and I arranged for the local H-D folks to house my bike. While I did this, Mike walked around the dealership deciding which new bike he might purchase - like I said, tough old bird. Mike, freshly supplied with pain pills rode with me in a rental car to Vegas where he walked all over creation.

Both Mike and Debbie, once the drama died down berated me for not getting the IBA paperwork finished. My reply that an EMT is probably NOT the end witness of preference fell on deaf ears.

 

[JAORE]

Attempt number two (the successful one -yay!) wasn't as dramatic, but it was challenging. The same riding friends decided to go to Sturgis - a bucket list thing and I'm glad I went.... once. We planned to go from Alabama heading west then north via New Mexico and Colorado. Hey! Amarillo is on that path. Plus, doing that on our first day would let us take an additional smell-the-roses day on the trip. So the four of us set out on three bikes. My wife, Judy, as pillion. She decided years ago she preferred watching the places we ride more than the asphalt we rode on.

What could go wrong?

Heat. Heat could go wrong. It topped 108 across Arkansas. Plus, heading west the sun never sets, or so it seems. Traffic stopped for construction a LONG time at one point. We dismounted and stood beside a semi-trailer for the "relief" provided by a 8 inch strip of shade. All vowing to bail if signs of heat issues appeared, we soldiered on. Hydration was the word of the day. Ride a little, stop and drink a LOT. At one point we rode 45 minutes and stopped for a cool down and drinks for 45 minutes. I'm sure the ride log was interesting too. And bless the Valario gas stations with their 29 degree beer caves! I don't drink, but I love me a beer cave.

I could continue with tales of the Smoked Butt 1000 but it was likely the toughest ride I'll ever do. we pulled into the hotel 23 1/2 hours after we began.

Ride three was a solo attempt at a 50cc starting in Jacksonville Beach. Started off well, rained, but just wet stuff, no storm. Making good time, I'm into Louisiana at roughly BBG pace. After a gas stop I run up the interstate ramp and.... clutch slippage. Dang! Oh well, that is an easy fix, but it didn't slip until I hit fifth gear. And I can add all the throttle I want in sixth without slipping. Odd. (I don't pretend to be a super wrench, but I thought I'd try to confirm the problem). So, at the next exit I take a local street and try it out. In first, no slipping. Same with gears 2, 3 and 4.... Fifth? LOTS of slippage. I repeat the experiment using a lot of throttle. Same result fifth slips, the others do not. Puzzled, I call my home dealership's shop guys. Luckily they hadn't quite headed home. Clutch slipping was the likely verdict. But why just fifth asks I? One of the three on the phone admitted it was a puzzle then added it MIGHT be in the gear box. Oh..... that would be different. I was in central where-the-heck-is-this, Louisiana at closing time on Saturday. He hastened to add he doesn't know how that would happen, but he also didn't know why only fifth.

Then the main mechanic asked me, how many gears do you really need? Timid soul that I am I figured ALL of them, each and every one. Or, at least some reasonable assurance parts of fifth won't decide to go wandering around the innards of the transmission.

Sooo, I have a plate gizmo that says, "World's Toughest Riders", but..... not today. I decide I'd rather limp home than have the tranny grenade somewhere even further from home.

Not so bad, you might say,, gain a little experience, home safe. Could be worse. (Of course it could be worse! Don't even start my fertile imagination going down the "What's the worse that could happen?" road.)

So I limp home and glance at the odometer. I've gone 974 miles. Dang. A couple of stops documented and a very few more mile and.... oh well.

Oh yeah, it was the clutch adjustment. we still can't figure why only fifth.

 

[JAORE]

And that, at long last brings me to ride number four. It too was a tentative success. I say tentative because, until the IBA says,"Yep" it's only an attempt. But not without a mishap. Oh no, not without a mishap. Or, as I call it now, an Offering to the gods of dumb (with a tip o' the hat to Burt Munro.)

My plan was to retry the 50cc this year. And I might be able to try that later in the year. But our schedule is filling up fast so I thought I might slip in another, shorter, ride. A BBG would certainly be a challenge. But another riding pal, Jimmy expressed envy at our IBA status - that and $7.50 will get you a vente frappachino. But, Jimmy added, he didn't want to ride alone and didn't want to risk a breakdown hundreds of miles away from home. I suggested an in-state ss1000. Never too far from home, can bail at any time it gets too tough and be home the next morning. Jimmy said, "Plan it out".

So I did.

I've been reading of all the creative rides and certificates out there. There is even a shark nose one and by golly that's what is on the front of my bike. And an in-state would add a layer of difficulty, though I didn't want to just blast along the Interstates in Alabama.

Hmmmm, Jimmy rides a Harley. I ride a Harley. There are ten Harley Dealers in Alabama. I wonder how many miles it would be to....

Add all the addresses in a map program, hit the optimize button and 1,056..... One Thousand and a cushion of fifty-six! An omen, it's an omen, I tells ya. Pick out some gas stations near the dealers and "corners" And there is the "theme".

I print it out and show it to Jimmy.

"Nope, changed my mind".

Well double dang.

But at this point I've invested some time on the route. And the seed I'd planted had begun to grow. Judy said, add it to the calendar or it will never happen. Smart cookie that Judy.

 

[JAORE]

Now that I've cleared my throat with that prologue:

I hate night riding. My depth perception is challenged and I "see" ghost deer everywhere. So I timed my ride with Interstate for the dark hours. Not completely safe, of course. But I'm more comfortable on the super slabs at night. That means a 1 am departure. The day before I prep the bike. Air shock aired. Tires aired. Lights, controls, all is well and I'm packed. Snacks, rain gear even with a clear sky forecast. Everything clicking and ticking.

I'm a premium member, but I decide on a belts and suspenders approach. Judy will sign as my witness for a start. Plus I pack a camera for electronic documentation. Bubbler and spotwalla at the ready.

I slept fairly well the night before - odd for me when there is an event of any for the next day - but decide to nap from 8:30 pm until midnight to bank some extra anti-fatigue insurance. Down at 8:30, into the arms of Morpheus shortly thereafter. Until my Fit bit watch wakes me. Judy and I have added these to our lives in an attempt to get into shape. We'll see about that... But a feature of Fit Bit is it offers reminders. Mine reminds me, at 10 pm, that I might want to start getting ready for bed. This is, as you may have guessed, NOT a good reminder when you are already 1) in bed, and 2) fast asleep.

Of course I'm now awake.

Still I force myself to wait until 1 am. The deer you know.

 

[JAORE]

And they're off (sorry, still in Kentucky Derby mode).

Hey, it's cold. The weather channel just told me it was 57 degrees. Just as aside note, neighbor Debby calls me a woolly lizard because I seem to tolerate both cold (woolly) and heat (lizard) better than most. I'd dressed in a mesh jacket over a vest and an LD comfort shirt. Judy had suggested a heated vest, but "Nay", sez I. I have conferred with the weather wizards and temps in the 50s are great for me. Dumb. This was either well below 57 or the coldest 57 I can recall. At my start-the- ball-rolling gas stop I throw on the heavier gloves I always carry and my rain jacket to break the wind. Now it is chilly, but manageable.

First stop the Montgomery dealership. A quick pic of the building and bike. I don't bother to frame or otherwise set up the picture. Adding ten stops with some more mileage involved is burden enough without telling the bike, "Work with me baby. More attitude!".

Interstate, mostly, down the the Mobile dealer. Other than the chill it's going well. The sky is completely clear and the moon is bright and almost full. Life is good. Getting to the Mobile H-D dealership requires you to navigate the frontage and local road system designed by the famous highway engineer De Sade. I fuel up at an easy access spot just north of that mess. I'll sacrifice a mile or two for ease of access. Besides some of my gas stops are beyond the dealers so my mileage cushion is intact. I sit through a LONG signal cycle or two until it's clear my bike won't trip the signal. A u-turn and re-figuring how to get there on the cursed frontage road system, but I'm there. Then retrace my path up to Evergreen, Alabama. No dealer there. But it allows me to hit the next one, Dothan, while staying in state.

My timing is good. The sky is that purple and orange mix as the sun is appearing. Off I go on the non-Interstate portion of the morning run. On time and moving smooth.

The run to Dothan is on surface highways. But it's multi-lane and the stoplights are, mercifully, few. I'm having a ball. The sun will bring warmth soon. I am a bit stiff, though. I used physical therapy to stave off rotator cuff surgery a couple of years ago (so far, so good) but my left shoulder still doesn't like to stay in one position too long. I stretch it out by reaching down and behind me. Mental alarm bells sound. Something doesn't feel right. In fact, something that should be felt is NOT. And here I get to the offering to the gods of stupid. My left saddle bag is gone.

And she didn't even say good bye.

I've known others to have this happen. There are even after market pins sold to avoid the issue. But, I'm the guy holding the handle bars. Recall me airing up the air shock? You remove the left bag to do so. Then you replace it and make very sure the pins are set. I know this. I DO THIS every time.... except, I guess, last night I did not.

Bad words, many bad words, spoken loudly.

But I'm well over 300 miles into the trip. The likelihood of retracing my path, finding the bag and it being at all salvageable are nil. Let it go, Bill, let it go. Sure I will, easy peasy. It's only money (lot's and lots of). Plus I'll need a replacement for a smell the roses ride to the Outer banks in early June and.... Let it go, Bill, let it go.

Ah well. Next stop Opelika, Alabama for Big Swamp, Harley. I should note I have not even programmed the entire route into the GPS because the build in GPS on a Harley allow you to select dealerships and punch Go. Handy, dandy when your route is dealership points. From there I get on US 431 and ride up to I-20 where the dealership in Oxford, Alabama is located. Piece of cake. Didn't even bother with the GPS because the route is so simple. Except that I apparently did NOT "let it go". Distracted by thoughts of the missing bag, my mental routing went on auto-pilot. So I turned on my usual exit direction from Big Swamp and went north on US 280, not US 431.

Ah well, it wasn't too far before the mistake crept into my brain pan. I tagged a corner on US 280 and took route AL 147 over to US 431. I added a few miles but discovered a pleasant little route. A net gain, I'd say. But now I REALLY forced myself to let it go. If something is distracting enough to create an unforced error in routing it is too distracting to be riding. I think I managed to do that the rest of the trip.

Over to Leeds, up to Madison/Huntsville, across to Tuscumbia, down to Cottondale/Tuscaloosa, east to Pelham then south for home. Lots of miles, mid 80s felt fairly warm, but no surprises and easy rolling.

Pretty uneventful by this point. I got fatigued between Tuscumbia and Cottondale. But I took a short snack and coke break in that stretch. That Coke was my first caffeine of the day. Another half bottle of Coke later completed my only caffeine of the day. Judy was more astounded by that than the ride. I'm a 6 cup o' coffee in the morning and iced tea during the day kind of guy.

Home by 10:30 or so.

My trip odometer shows 1099.1 miles. I learned the pictures of the odometer and receipts is tougher than it looks. In part this is because my near vision is crap. I packed reading glasses but decided to not do an additional shuffle to get them out each time. And I couldn't see well enough to determine if the pictures were legible. That's my next chore. It sure reinforces the "try it out before the ride" advice I ignored.

Adding 10 side trips and pictures adds a LOT of time. Not to mention the added fuel stops to document corners.

My smart phone was plugged into the charger port in the top box. At some point the USB came loose from the phone. Dead as a door nail. There goes Bubbler.

So I lost an expensive part off the bike that will be a pain to replace before my next trip. But I (hope I) will get a certificate out of this. Plus, at 65, any kind of "Wow, you did THAT?" is a rare gift. Finally, I found a dime at one of the gas stops.

Oh yeah, home safe and sound to the arms of a wonderful woman.
All in all a great day.

 

[igneouss]

Nice write-up. Thanks

 

[Amnon Romano]

What model did Mike end up with?

 

[JAORE]

He's on a Road Glide Special... his second in four years.

 

[IBA ZX-9R]

A humorous colorful story that kind of draws you in to read on. Hope you decide to write more stories and get credit for this last SS1K/24.

I found out the hard way on mine too, that these aren't just 1,000 mile rides that you figure out after the fact. By the time you put it all together, they can become substantially more than originally planned and more than what a beginner should be biting off. Fortunately there seems to be that bit of adrenaline that makes the seemingly impossible possible.

 

[JAORE]

Certificate received! (I waited a long time to submit, just lazy I guess. Plus I find the planning and riding is a lot more fun than the documentation.)

The Mile Eater sticker was a pleasant surprise. I'd forgotten two certs gets you on that list.

Woo Hoo!

Thanks to Mr. Kneebone and the volunteer(s) that reviewed.

On deck may be a 50cc, especially when I failed at this before and my wife likes San Diego (she'd fly in for a few days).

But then I saw something about an Eggsanity 1000. And I'm slap in the middle of Waffle House country. Unusual cert too.....

And a couple of local riders have now expressed interest in the IBA and would like me to assist.....

Dammit IBA.... get outta my head!

Looks like I may not wait 5 years between cert. rides. (Better not, I'm 65 now.)

Old men may not rule. But we roll.

 

[kwthom]

Looks like I may not wait 5 years between cert. rides. (Better not, I'm 65 now.)

Hook, line, sinker! Welcome to the insanity!

My first SS1000 had similar issues. See the rain ahead, I'm a smart cookie, I put the rain gear on the bike, just in case.

I dig it out - a fatal error in judgement was made - these belong to my wife, not me.

Every ride has a story...you did good!