Bun Burner Gold, 1500+ miles in less than 24 hours
October 14 -15, 2002
With an IBA documented ride for 2000 and one for 2001, I figured I'd better get one done for 2002. Besides, both of those earlier certificates were on my old Road King. I sold that bike, and have since bought an Ultra Classic Electra Glide, and a BMW RT. I should get some documentation on at least one of those bikes this year. That only stands to reason, right?
Okay, so enough for the rationalization, what to do? Let's see, 2000 was a Saddle Sore 1000 (SS1K). 2001 was a Bun Burner 1500 (36 hour) during my AWSHIDT tour. Well, it's time to raise the bar, hike up my skirt, and go for the gold‚ a Bun Burner Gold that is. I planned to leave October 14th.
Two routes were considered on my Street Atlas program: one ran east through Nevada on US50 to Beaver, UT; north on I15 to Salt Lake; then back to the Bay Area via I80, 1594 miles. Number two route was south on I5, then east to Barstow, and east on I40 to Flagstaff; make a U-turn and come home, 1619 miles. I would wait until the morning I left to decide which route to take, or even if I would attempt the BBG at all. It would depend on weather and, quite frankly, whether or not I felt like it. I told myself that I could always just knock out another SS1K if a BBG felt like too much trouble.
Now, which bike to take? Both have Rick Meyer seats, and extra lighting. I know from ride reports of those who have completed BBGs before me, and from just doing the math, that a BBG is a flat out, haul the mail, high speed run for 24 hours straight. There's no time to stop and smell the roses. The Ultra is a comfortable touring mount for my SWMBO and I to cruise with. I love it. But its only got a 5 gallon tank; and while the TC-88 is more than capable of sustained highway speeds, you can still tell the RPMs are running high. The RT is smoother at speed and has a 6+ gallon tank. I loaded the RT.
My wife's alarm clock went off about a quarter to 7 on the morning of the 14th, for her to go to work. I figured I'd just get up with her and leave when I got ready no matter what time that was. With a 24-hour ride it didn't really matter when I left, I'd have the same amount of daylight and darkness whether I left at 3 AM, 8 AM or 2 PM.
I sat down at my Mac. Weatherchannel.com reported clear or partly cloudy for both routes. But the nighttime lows for Wendover, and Elko were in the 20's; Kingman, and Barstow were only in the 40's for their lows. I actually had a decent nights sleep, so the decision was made – lets go see Flagstaff and back in less than 24 hours.
I was down at the PD just before 0800. I grabbed a couple of the guys, Jeff and Tom, and they signed me out with 12,067 on the odometer. GPS re-set to 0. I drove around the block to the Wells Fargo ATM. I took out $60 spending cash. The receipt said "Napa", 10/14/02, 0800 on the dot. Cool, that's easy to remember. I'm rolling.
I left Napa eastbound on CA12, my first stop in Lodi. Actually, I stopped at the "Flag City" area on the west outskirts of Lodi at the I5 & CA12 junction. The pump at the Chevron gave me a good receipt, and I hit I5 south.
I topped off next at the Shell station adjacent to Harris Ranch at the Coalinga exit. Harris Ranch has a decent restaurant and steak house, always worth a stop if you're traveling I5 in California. But not if you're on a Bun Burner Gold run! I ate a pre-pack power bar from my saddlebag.
I need to take CA58 to Barstow to pick up I40. But I pass CA58 at the Buttonwillow exit. I don't want to hassle with Bakersfield traffic. I go farther south on I5 to CA223. I exit and head towards the little town of Arvin. This path adds a few extra miles, but I'm sure it saved time and headaches not having to deal with the signal lights, and stop and go traffic in Bakersfield.
Since I was on a new highway, and I "turned a corner" of my route I stopped in Arvin for a receipt at a small Chevron. The pump gives me a good one. I think to myself I'm having great luck with the pump receipts. I roll east over the Tehachapis, and into the Mojave Desert.
At Barstow I pick I40 and continue east. The fuel gage is starting to dip a bit, and although I haven't really made a corner, I am on a new highway. I figure I'll get gas, and then I should be good all the way to Kingman. I stop at a Shell station in Newberry Springs. No pay at the pump, but the clerk gives me a receipt with everything I need. I also buy a bottle of water to top off my jug of drinking water that rides behind me. I had set a half-gallon Thermos jug in a rear seat bag behind me. In the spout I stuck a drinking tube from a Platypus system into the jug. I clip the bite valve to my riding pants, and I sip often as I ride to stay hydrated.
On my RT I have an accessory shelf that I mount my GPS via a RAM ball system. I also have a second RAM ball mount that I use for either a cassette or CD player, or a portable CB. Since this trip was mostly interstate highway I figure it might be entertaining to listen to the truck drivers; they might also be informative as to road conditions. I took the CB and listen via small ear plug-speakers. As I was approaching Needles I hear in a long southern drawl, "Smoky in a black and white, eastbound, hammer down." I look in my mirror and I see a Crown Vic approaching. I'm not too worried, as I'd been holding pretty steady around 75-77. Yeah, it's over the posted limit of 70, but out here not at all unusual or unsafe for conditions. I simply merge from the #1 to the #2 and maintain. The CHP officer rolls along side, gives me a quick look and continues on. I think he was just looking to see what kind of bike I was riding, and he didn't give it much more thought than that. He moves ahead, gets stuck behind some nimrod in an RV who wasn't watching his mirrors. When the RV finally moves to the #2 the black and white speeds up and is gone. I never saw who, what or where he was headed.
I continue across the Colorado River, and soon I'm making a stop at a Chevron in Kingman, Arizona. Another perfect receipt at the pump is obtained. For dinner I dine pump side on a power bar and a hand full of roasted almonds.
Up until this point I'd been wearing a Darien with vents open over a simple cotton T-shirt, as it had been fairly warm through the Mojave. But I now took the time to put on my Widder vest, and close the air vents in the Darien. I also change to some mid-weight gauntlets for my hands, retiring the light-weight deerskins to the saddlebag.
I return to I40 and continue east up to the Coconino Plateau. The sun is dropping behind me lighting up the Arizona landscape in beautiful brilliant reds and fiery oranges. As darkness settles in, and I continue up in elevation, I continue to increase the setting on the Widder rheostat.
With it totally dark now on a highway void of civilization, my whole world is only what is seen in my headlamp and Motolights. This ride truly is one of "sit here, twist that, and haul butt".
At one point along the way to Flagstaff flashing red and blues ahead in the distance break the monotony. Over the CB I hear, "Is that a rig down there?" The answer is garbled, but I soon pass by a Yellow Transportation 18-wheeler on its side in a ravine between the eastbound and westbound lanes. Ugh, bad mojo.
Also along the way I pass by a sign that warns of deer crossing, and then one that warns of Elk crossing. Okay, the deer are bad enough. But a damn Elk would really suck at 75+ MPH.
As the ride progresses I'm getting a bit chilled on my arms. Although, the temperature probably isn't lower that 50 or so, it is extremely noticeable on my arms, which are bare under the Darien. Of course the Widder vest is keeping my body core very comfortable, and the mid-weight gauntlets are just right with the Beemer's heated grips on low. But the temperature difference on the arms is becoming distracting.
Soon enough though, I'm exiting onto Historic US 66, and I'm in Flagstaff. I pass several motels, and soon I see a Chevron. I pull in, fill up, and I'll be dipped if I don't get a perfect gas receipt again! Okay, this is too freaky; I've had no trouble with receipts this whole trip. I start looking for Candid Camera.
As I make my log notes I jot down the odometer and GPS mileage. The GPS (more accurate) tells me I've come 797 miles in 11 hours 30 minutes. Okay, I'm doing fine, I just have to do the same pace back now. That's when it kinda hits me – I have to do all that again. I think my shoulders literally sagged a bit as I let out an audible groan. I took a minute to add a sweatshirt under the Darien before heading back to I40, westbound. My arms thanked me. Now it was back to a dark void split only by my headlamps.
As I close in on the location where the Yellow rig had rolled down the ravine, I see 5 or 6 other Yellow 18-wheelers stopped along the side of the highway with their hazard flashers going. I figure they're there to check on the driver, the rig, and probably to pick up the cargo. For safety, I slowed a bit as I went passed, but the funny thing was, I didn't see any people. None. Anywhere. Of course they were there somewhere, but in that darkness I thought of ghost ships on the ocean. Okay, my mind was wandering a bit, back to business.
I hit the same Chevron in Kingman on the back home, same pump too. But this time there was no receipt. Well, my receipt luck had run out. But the clerk printed one up in the store, no problem.
Back into California, with a stop in Barstow this time, where I again had to get a receipt from the clerk. Do these pumps stop working after a certain hour?
I retrace my path back over the Tehachapis (cold and dark) and back onto CA223. Even though it's late, I still want to skip Bakersfield. As I pass through Arvin I slow at the Chevron there thinking a return receipt from the same station might be a good idea. But the station itself is closed, and I now don't trust the pump receipts. I press on.
A few miles after turning north on I5 I pull off at Buttonwillow (CA58 and I5). I get a good receipt at the pump at a Texaco station. This receipt does not prove I took CA223, but I figure even if the IBA can't verify the exact route, the mileage difference isn't that much too matter.
I now move northbound on I5 without a stop or interruption for miles. I pass lines and lines of trucks with only an occasional rabbit passing me. At one point I move from the #2 to the #1 passing a line of trucks. I merge back into the #2, noting what looks like a small sports car following another big rig, a few hundred yards ahead of me. I'm slowly gaining on them and figure on passing them too in a few moments. I check my mirrors; note my speed on the GPS. I look back down the road on this dark, slightly hazy night and – HOLY SHIT‚ HARD LEFT!!!!! I swerve back into the #1 missing the back of an 18-wheeler's trailer by three or four car lengths, kind of close at almost 80 MPH when you weren't expecting it. As I swallow my heart back down my throat I realize that the trailer had a taillight set out on one side. I still not sure why, by some how in the dark the odd arraignments of lights on the back of the rig, with just a quick glance, looked like a small car following a truck at a much farther distance from me that what was true. In reality it was just one big rig much closer.
As I close in on Stockton my fuel reserve light comes on. I think about trying to make it to Lodi, but I begin to worry. I figure it's better to eat up a few minutes at a gas pump rather than risking running out of gas and blowing the whole ride.
So I stop for gas just south of Stockton at French Camp. The pump receipt doesn't have the address of the station. I go inside but the attendant can't print out a receipt that has the address. She didn't seem real concerned about my problem, either. It's now early morning and there is a line of commuters forming behind me. I just figure I'm wasting time. I take what receipt I did have, wrote the address down, and split.
As I turn off of I5 for CA12, I turn into the Flag City area out side of Lodi. My reason for a second receipt only a few miles away was to show the westbound turn, and to prove I'd at least made a BBG. Because at that point I had 1534 miles per my GPS, and I was 22:30 into the ride. I still planned on trying to make it back to Napa within the 24 hours, but I knew morning traffic would be picking up. So this would be a fallback end receipt if needed.
I pull up to the same pump I used the morning before. I squeeze in a few cents worth of gas, but the pump tells me to go see the attendant for a receipt. *%$##*!!! Okay, okay, relax. I walk in asking the clerk for a receipt. He causally prints one out with everything I need. I let out a breath and breathe a bit better.
I get going on the last leg of this ride. I make it through Rio Vista, but traffic on CA12 is getting heavier. When I hit Suisun City traffic comes to full stop. It's at least 2, sometimes 3 cycles to get through the signal lights on 12 before getting onto I80. The flow picks up a bit on the I80 connector ramp, but once on 80 it's all brake lights. I think about lane splitting but there are several exits and merges along this section, and traffic is crazy. I'm also very tired, and I know my reflexes aren't what they should be for lane splitting. So, I just idle along.
I get back to Napa PD about 0820, 20 minutes late. I didn't bother with another receipt. I just planned on using Lodi as my end point. I did of course get Jeff and Tom, who were just starting a new work day, to verify my ending mileage, and sign me back in. I rode home, had a light breakfast, hot shower, and went to bed.
About week later a co-worker, John, who had drawn elk tags for Arizona, asked me how long it took to drive to Flagstaff. He'd heard from one of the other guys that I'd ridden down there and back recently. I told him it took me eleven and a half hours, but that was with minimal stops. He said okay, he probably figure twelve to thirteen hours or so.
A couple weeks after that, John was back to work after a successful hunt in northern Arizona. One day in the briefing room he asked me, "You know that ride you took to Flagstaff and back in one day?"
"Yeah", I replied.
"Did somebody drop you on your head when you were a small child?"
