August 5th - 6th, 2000.
I've had my Road King since October of 1999 and I'd been lurking on the LD Riders list for a month or so prior to that. Being on the LD Rider list had peeked my interest in trying some endurance riding.
Back in the late 80's I owned a 1985 V65 Saber, it was a good, solid bike. Several of my co-workers and I would plan one week bike trips around the country each summer. We would pick a spot somewhere in the western US and set our sights on that location. However, just as much a part of the trip was stopping in the little towns along the way to our destination. Our plan was simple in these little towns, park the bikes, set up camp and find the local bar.
A tradition with us was we would always stay the last night in Virginia City, Nevada. We had friends who live in "VC"; we would take over their front yard and enjoy an evening in "uptown VC". Since local residents escorted us, we could purchase adult beverages at local prices, not the tourist price.
We would cover a lot of ground during these trips, but the most miles in any one day was usually no more than 400-450 miles. The exception was 1989 when we rode up to Calgary, Alberta for the annual Calgary Stampede. Only three of us could make the entire trip, but the rest of the usual group planned on meeting us in Jackpot, Nevada on our way back. We would then ride together to "VC" for our regular last night on the road.
On our last day in Canada, Bruce, Joe and I left Calgary about 0700 on our way to Jackpot. Our plan was for an overnighter some where in Idaho, then head into Jackpot to meet our friends around lunchtime. We hadn't really picked a specific town in Idaho to stop and, well, one town after another would come and go. We kept telling ourselves we could go on just a bit more. By the time we were a couple hundred miles from Nevada we stopped for a dinner break and discussed the rest of the night. Bruce and I already knew we would keep going. Although Joe was ready to bag it, he stayed with us, as he didn't want to get left behind. We pulled into Jackpot sometime after mid-night after putting on, as I recall, 940-950 miles. Our friends were a bit surprised and amused to see us already there in Jackpot the next day, but I felt a sense of accomplishment.
Flash-forward now 11 years -- After reading the requirements for a Saddle Sore 1000, I knew it was something I'd like to try. As I already stated I got the new Road King in October '99. I didn't want to take off on a run like the SS1K without some break-in miles on the bike and some time in the saddle on that specific bike for myself. I originally thought about an autumn trip in 2000, but my wife and I had plans for a fall vacation. And away, the idea of earning my Saddle Sore certificate was enticing me to go sooner.
The weekend of August 5th and 6th was clear on my calendar. I figured I would plan a second day into the trip schedule in case something happened and I wasn't able to complete the trip in 24 hours. Even if I did successfully make the ride I figured I could use the next day off to relax and clean the bike.
I packed the bike the night before with a small over night bag, an extra down vest for the night ride and a "cool-vest" for the afternoon ride. Both vests fit quite well under my Roadcrafter. Most importantly I packed water, bananas and power bars. I didn't plan on making a lunch stop but I would make myself eat and drink at each gas stop.
I was in bed and asleep by 2230. The alarm woke me at 0400; I could hear my pre-set coffeepot in the kitchen brewing. My wonderful wife got up with me and fixed my breakfast. I was at the Napa Police Department just before 0530 where Officer Ryan Cole checked my mileage (5545) and signed me out. I drove half a block away to a Wells Fargo ATM. I withdrew some cash for the trip and most importantly I got the date and time receipt to start -- 0530 hours.
Out of Napa I went, CA29 to eastbound CA12 to I80. There is always traffic on I80, but not too heavy and it was moving right along. Soon I took I505 to by-pass Sacramento and I continued north on I5. The speed limit was 70 out here; I was holding just under 80 mph.
At Willows, CA I picked up my first gas receipt at a near-by Chevron. The location, date and correct time were on the pump's receipt. I removed my down vest, made a quick log book entry and I was off.
Red Bluff was a blur and soon I was approaching Redding where I would pick up CA299. I figured I would need a gas receipt so I began looking around. I spotted a Chevron just off of I5. But the CA299 junction was only a mile ahead. I continued to the 299 turn off but I didn't see services stations, so I back tracked to the Chevron. I topped off my tank, but the pump receipt didn't have the location. Inside the station was an ATM, I made a small withdrawal. That receipt had all the required information.
I retraced my route back up I5 and onto 299. The smaller two-lane highway was a welcome change to the slab. I climbed in altitude and ride was terrific, great countryside and light traffic. I went through the little town of Fall Mills River, the home of Russell Seats. I have a ride-in appointment there next May. My wife is to come with me on that trip and I'm sure she'll enjoy this part of the ride.
At Alturas I filled up again, got a proper receipt from inside the station and returned to my bike. I take a moment to feed myself on bananas, power bars and water. Another pair of bikes pulls in to the station and park near-by. One is a Kawasaki Concourse, the other is a Road King similar to my own. The riders are a couple of friends and co-workers on their annual summer ride. They reported leaving San Diego three days ago. When I explained that I was on a day ride from and back to Napa in one day they nodded. They said the last few years they would crank on the miles also only to get some place exhausted. The Harley rider remarked that he got tired of riding the next day with a hang over. His reasoning was that after a long day in the saddle all he wanted to do was sit in a bar and drink. This year they were slowing down and enjoying the county and the ride a bit more.
The Harley rider points to my Areostitch and asks, "Don't you get hot in that stuff?" I stifled the wisecrack "Sweat wipes off, road rash doesn't". I simply answered that the air flow vents work well when moving.
The conversation turned to our bikes, the Harley guy asks about mine: What year, is it a fuely?... etc. He remarks that he enjoys having a fairly new bike (his was a '97). But he complains that it is gutless compared to his old shovelhead. His Kawasaki partner then remarked, "Yeah, but this one doesn't break down on you all the time." We all laughed out loud a bit at that. I realized that the clock was ticking away for me, so I bid them a safe ride. I turned north on US395 headed passed Goose Lake for Oregon.
Nothing much changes when you cross the state line here on 395. The view of Goose Lake is still there; the highway is still the same road -- well maintained asphalt-concrete; traffic, weather and road conditions don't change. But the speed limit does -- 65 to 55 at a political boundary. Rats.
I twist it down a few mph and putter into Lakeview, OR. At the Chevron on the far side of town I stop. I recall Oregon not allowing people to pump their own gas, so I wait a few seconds, taking off my helmet and jacket. The attendant comes out starts the pump and hands me the nozzle. When I'm done I hand the pump back and I follow the attendant to the office where I get a complete receipt.
I return to the bike for the banana/water drill. I also pull the "cool vest" out of the saddlebag and remove it from the plastic bag I had wrapped it in. The vest had soaked all night in my laundry sink and it was still fat with water. Man did that thing feel great going on. (Thanks Jim!) After a cell phone call to my wife I continue north on 395.
Just a few miles north of Lakeview is the OR140 junction and my first road construction. I have to wait about ten minutes for the pilot car. While waiting I examined my air cleaner cover since I noticed a slight rattle down there. The cover was a bit loose so I make quick trip to my tool kit and tightened it back down. The pilot car soon shows up and leads me 12 miles, at about 15 mph, over varying sections of gravel, pot holes and dirt, oh joy.
Once out of the construction zone I pull away from the row of RV's behind me and take in the south-eastern Oregon countryside. I'm a bit paranoid about gas on this stretch so I stop at a small country store/restaurant/gas station. I top off the tank, do the water/power bar thing and I'm off.
OR140 becomes NV140 at the Nevada border and just as magically the speed limit goes from 55 to 70. The only thing that stands out in my mind about this stretch of my ride is that it was hot and empty.
At Denio Junction I top off the tank again and go into the store to buy a cool drink. I wanted something a bit tastier that my warm bottled water. Back on the road I again am delayed by road construction. This time the pilot car takes a bit longer than last time and I loose about 20 minutes. However, when he did arrive to lead me through I was happy to see new asphalt, not loose gravel and dirt.
NV140 meets US95 and I'm south bound to Winnemucca. I grab a good receipt at a Chevron north of town, then continue on to I80. I checked this route on my mapping program when planning this trip. If I turned home now from Winnemucca I'd be about 20 miles short of the required 1000. So I head east to Battle Mountain for the extra miles. The trip to Battle Mountain was uneventful except for now having to deal with trucks on the interstate; the good news is the speed limit is now 75.
While exiting the interstate at Battle Mountain I hear a loud rattle coming from the air cleaner. I look down and see my air cleaner cover very loose and rattling looser. Holy cow! I know it's a Harley but I just tightened the damn thing!
At a Chevron in town I fill up, get my receipt and break out the tool kit. I remove the air cleaner cover and I discover that the air cleaner retention screws are backed out. I had the bike in for its 5000-mile service just before I left. My guess is that the mechanic didn't replace the air cleaner properly during the service. I examined the air cleaner and I'm pretty sure there was no open gap between the outside air and the intakes. (Mental note to self: change the oil and filter when I get home.) I tighten everything down and replace the cover. I return the "Cool Vest" to the saddlebag and I'm off.
I ride into the setting sun cruising along on I80 at just under 80. I note several Harleys going eastbound; Sturgis I figure. I stop in Lovelock for a quick bite at the McDonalds. I hate fast food, but I make an exception tonight. I was tired of power bars and bananas and I didn't want to waste the time in a proper restaurant. I order and take my meal outside. While eating, another Harley rider pulls in. He asks where I'm going I explain my saddle sore trip and what it entails; he gives me a shocked look. He explains that he is heading to Sturgis, his first trip there. He left Concord after work today and was probably going to stop in Winnemucca. I tell him the road is clear and conditions are good all the way. We wish each other well with our rides and I continue west.
About 20 miles out of Lovelock my reserve fuel light comes on. Hmmm… I see a sign to Fernley, the next Nevada town, about 37 miles…hmmm…I usually get about 40 mpg I think to myself, but that's NOT at 80 mph. I better slow down or I'm going to be pushing. The idea of pushing this 750+ pound beast on a dark interstate didn't bother me as much as not making the ride in less that the 24 hours. (Mental note to self: Recheck priorities). I slow to just under 55 and now I'm watching in the rear view mirrors as much as the road ahead. I don't want a highballing truck to run my slow ass over. Thanks Areostich for the reflective strip on the jacket back.
I make it to Fernley with 4/10th of a gallon left. Receipt, water, more highway. I blast towards Reno where traffic gets very thick. I notice several enforcement stops on the off ramps, and over passes, lots of red and blue flashing lights. As I'm in the #1 lane, a car comes up behind me, I merge over to the #2 and the RPD car goes quickly past. He briefly flashes his rear caution lights as he goes by. My guess is he may have spotted my Blue Knights license plate frame when he was behind me.
At first I just figure it's another Saturday night in Reno, but then I remember it's Hot August Nights. As I recall Reno had street riots a year or two before at this same function. That explains the heavy LEO presence. I'm now very glad I didn't plan a stop in this big little city.
At Truckee I'm delayed in line at the California agricultural checkpoint. I take the time to close the under arm vents in the 'Stich and I tighten up the collar. Over Donner I go, it cools off but not too bad.
I head through Sacramento and I make one last gas stop in Davis. I fill up and get the all mighty receipt. I'm tired, yes, but I still feel alert. I go ahead and break a LD rider tip and take on some caffeine in the form of a Mountain Dew. I figure by the time the caffeine has worn off and I get the post caffeine let down, I should be home in bed. As I finish the Mountain Dew, I don my down vest under the 'Stich and pull onto I80 for the last time on this trip.
I'm on the home stretch now; will power is driving me now as much as anything. I know I'm going to make it, but I remind myself not to get careless or cocky. An accident can happen any time or place.
CA12, CA29 yes! Soscol Ave., yes!! I'm a stone's throw from my house now, but I need to get my ending receipt and checked in. I pull my bike almost up to the downtown Wells Fargo ATM. I figure I'll put some money back in, but there are no envelopes. Oh well, another withdrawal -- 0221 hrs. Cool.
I motor into the PD parking lot. In the briefing room I find Officer Rich Marsh, he's another Harley rider. He laughs when he sees my bug splattered 'Stich. He signs me back in (6617 on the odometer) and congratulates me on my ride.
I make the 1-mile ride home. I pour myself a glass of cabernet and send off a brief message to the LD riders' list about my trip.
I may not be one of the "Big Dogs" now, but at least I'm on the porch.
Copyright© 2000, tlash@pacbell.net
