A Short Story
After the 1986 Iron Butt I said to myself, and everyone who would listen, "Wait until next year!"
Events conspired such that "next year" didn't arrive until 1999. Each time the Iron Butt was run I followed the progress in my mind, imagining where they would be and wishing I were there.
By 1998 I was able to begin planning to compete in 1999. I took a 14-day trip in the summer of 1998 to test my physical ability to continue riding the hours necessary. The trip began with a Bun Burner Gold ride (1500 miles in less than 24 hours) and included 3 nights where I rode through the night. I rode to the four corners of the U.S. in January 1999; setting records for the earliest finish in a calendar year (Jan 11) and the shortest duration (7 days according to postmarks from the first and last corner). This was partly preparation for the Iron Butt and partly an announcement to the long distance riding community that I was back.
I considered a new bike, but after discussion with several people whose judgement in such things can be trusted, it was decided that a new bike would not necessarily be more reliable than the well-maintained R1100-RTL that I already had. The bike was checked thoroughly. The battery tested good, but I had a new one installed anyway. As a precaution, a new clutch was installed. New clutch and speedometer cables were installed and the old ones tucked in as spares. The plan was to have a set of tires, mounted on spare rims, waiting in Maine. A problem developed with rotors for the front wheel, so the front tire would have to be mounted in Maine. It would still be possible to have new tires mounted during the two hours we would spend at the Maine checkpoint. No riding time would be lost.
My average speed was calculated on long rides. The number of hours I would need to sleep and the miles I could attempt between each checkpoint were calculated and recalculated. I strictly avoided caffeine so it would be more effective when I needed it on the ride.
I promised Melynda that this would be my last all out endurance ride.
There was enough vacation time to allow four days for the 2400-mile ride to the starting point in Ojai, California. The plan was to spend some time in the Rocky Mountains and possibly drop in on friends in Huntington Beach, CA if I arrived in time. Unable to sleep, I left home at 6:00 AM. By mid afternoon it was obvious that a thousand-mile day was easily within reach. It was barely dark when I stopped to sleep in a little town in central Nebraska. The thousand miles in less than 16 hours was so easy that I was getting really pumped. I even began thinking about the possibility of a first place finish; of course that wasn't likely but it wasn't impossible.
In the Rockies on Thursday the bike stumbled a few times and began idling badly. Finally it would die unless I raced the engine when I stopped. I knew there was a BMW dealer in Grand Junction and I was going that direction anyway. I arrived at All Sports as they were closing. I hated to stop so early in the afternoon but arranged to leave the bike there so it would be cool and ready to check out when they opened on Friday. They gave me a ride to a motel three miles away. A long walk occupied my evening and in the morning I found a table for breakfast which allowed me to watch as the sun came over the mountains to the east and it's light crawled down the buttes to the west.
It was a pleasant walk to All Sports and I arrived just as they were opening. A bike shop is always a great place to hang out. I tried not to hover as the mechanic checked out the bike. He quickly found that the problem was not a clogged fuel filter as we had hoped. He soon discovered a worn out throttle body and of course there were none in stock. RPM Cycles in Ventura, CA agreed to have both throttle bodies over nighted and to install them on Saturday morning. I reasoned that if one were worn out the other one would soon follow.
It was nearly noon by the time I was back on the road. The bike, having been adjusted as well as possible, was running significantly better. I stopped in Barstow, CA Friday night and had time for a beautiful ride over the Angel's Crest Highway before opening time at RPM.
There were other Iron Butt riders at RPM Cycles getting tires installed and another R1100 rider who had called late Friday afternoon also needing a throttle body. RPM had managed to get BMW to ship it. My bike had collected a lot of grime for just 2400 miles so I asked if I could use their hose to clean it up a little while I was waiting. They brought me a bucket of warm soapy water, sponges, rags, and even a detailing brush. Even without using the detailing brush, I got the bike cleaner than it had been since it was sitting on the show room floor.
I finished the speedometer calibration ride and most of tech Saturday afternoon. On Sunday I only had to complete my one on two interview with Mike Kneebone and Bob Higdon and visit with old and new friends until the banquet. The interview was primarily a lecture on being careful and not taking foolish risks; Higdon swore that if I killed myself he would dig up my body and kill me again.
Bonus lists for the first leg were passed out at the banquet so there was plenty of time to plan the ride to Kennewick, WA. The format on this leg was called "Pick your poison". There were four possible bonus lists. You could not mix bonuses from different lists. It would be possible to get all of the points on any of the choices but the rides with the highest point totals would not be easy. This format would be followed for two legs, then when everyone was tired the last two legs would offer more bonus stops than anyone could possibly accomplish so each rider would have to compile his or her own list and route planning would become even more critical.
I quickly added up all of the points on each list, then calculated the miles on the list that I thought offered the most points. There were only two bonuses on this list. Tortilla Flats Arizona and the Roosevelt dam which was only a few miles from Tortilla Flats by dirt road. The mileage was within the 2000 miles I had budgeted for this leg; I had decided that I would be too excited to sleep anyway so I might as well ride all night. It would be a hard push to make Tortilla Flats and then get to the dam with enough daylight for the required picture but even adding a half-hour for the extra time on the dirt road it was possible. I later discovered that I had made a mistake adding the possible points and another route was worth one point more rather than 59 points less. I blame the phone company which made their keyboards upside down. I frequently dial a 9 instead of a three, rarely do I go into phone pad mode on a calculator, but it does happen. I rechecked everything except the addition on the point totals.
Monday morning there were 98 bikes at the starting line from all over the USA and also from Canada, England, Germany, and Australia. Everyone tried to be calm but no one could sit or stand still. At last the 10:00 AM starting time arrived; we rode in two files to the starters where we were handed our identifying towels and we were on our way.
There was a brief delay on Route 101. I saw a patrol car with flashing lights in my rear view mirror and moved one lane to the right to let him pass; he followed me. I worked my way across three more lanes of traffic and found a place where we could stop without blocking a high-speed traffic lane. It turned out that the driver was in training and evidently the trainer agreed with me that I had been moving no faster than the rest of the traffic. It was over 100 miles before I cleared L.A. traffic but it moved fast enough to keep me nearly on schedule. The temperature was over 110 degrees. By soaking my heavy, long sleeved, cotton shirt with water and closing my riding suit tightly over it to slow evaporation, I stayed fairly comfortable. By Mesa, Arizona I was nearly an hour ahead of schedule so I stopped long enough to drink a Gatorade and eat a candy bar. At Tortilla flats I visited for a few minutes with two guys who had been fishing at a nearby lake; one of them used my camera to include me in the required photo.
I left Tortilla Flats about 5:30, still over half an hour ahead of schedule but it was soon questionable whether that was enough. The dirt road had dust an inch deep which was worse than riding in sand and on every grade it had a "washboard" surface. The 22 miles of dirt was also longer than I expected. I had planned on averaging 30 miles per hour through this section but I was rarely able to get up to 30 and daylight was fading fast. If I couldn't get a picture I would get no points for the stop and no flash is strong enough to light up a dam. Finally the dam came in sight. I hurriedly pulled out the Polaroid. I was glad I had spent a few extra dollars to get the model with the adjustable lens but was still very much afraid that there was not enough light for a picture. I was elated when a recognizable image appeared; it was 7:10 PM. I took time to eat a Power Bar and wash it down with warm water from my bota.
Finished with bonus stops, I now had about 1250 miles to the checkpoint with just less than 23 hours to do it. Much of the night would be on two lane roads but they were good roads and then I would hit I15 and I84. I took time in Flagstaff for a fast food cheeseburger and a coke before heading north on Route 89. It was a shame to be riding this area in the dark; it is spectacular in the daytime. At a gas stop in Kanab, Utah the attendant advised against taking Route 9 to Interstate 15 since the stretch through Zion National Park would be very slow. Instead, I stayed on 89 to Route 20 which took me to the superslab. Here I began calculating time to Salt Lake City. I was going to get there around 6:30 AM which would get me through before the morning rush. Unfortunately there was construction and two traffic accidents. It was past 8:30 before I cleared the city. There was now over 600 miles to go in nine and a half hours; possible but I would have liked to have more margin.
I was thinking about stopping for gas when a sign said "No gas for 68 miles". A quick check indicated that there was just enough gas for that distance. Unfortunately, when I got there the station was closed. Forcing myself to keep the speed in a range to get maximum mileage and lowering the windshield to reduce wind resistance I managed to make the next station. I pumped 7.1 gallons of gas into my 6.8-gallon tank. Making up time, I went through that tank of gas in just under two and a half hours and just over 250 miles. I was beginning to feel sleepy and was now well ahead of schedule so I stopped for a nap at the Blue Mountain wayside. I found a grassy spot, set an alarm for an hour and woke up in 55 minutes. I realized that I had not had a cup of coffee or anything with caffeine and I had an hour of unplanned sleep. I expect to be in first place at Kennewick. Things couldn't be better.
As I left the wayside I noticed that there seemed to be regular ridges in the pavement similar to the seams in concrete. Soon the pavement changed and the sound and feel was still there. It felt like I was riding over an unending series of rumble strips.
With time to spare, and expecting increased Highway Patrol activity as I neared the checkpoint, my speed was conservative. I was now convinced that the rumbling noise and feel was a bearing in the rear wheel but I hoped I could at least make it to Kennewick. I realized it was questionable whether I could get the bike fixed in time to continue with the rally, and that was extremely depressing, but first place at the checkpoint would at least be some consolation.
Turning north on I-82, I crossed the Columbia River into Washington. Just after crossing the bridge, there was a crunching noise and the rear wheel locked up for a fraction of a second. When it began to roll again it was wobbling. I moved to the berm and turned on the four way flashers. At about 30 miles per hour, I could still make the checkpoint without a time penalty. Twice more there were crunching noises, the wobble was getting worse, then the wheel locked momentarily and I thought I was going to fall. Just after I regained control, an 18-wheel truck went by about four feet away. The situation was deteriorating too fast; there was no way the bike would make it to Kennewick and it was too dangerous to keep trying. After thirteen years of dreaming and nearly two years of planning and preparation, my Iron Butt Ride was over.
Epilog:
When I called Melynda with the news she immediately said that she is sure I can get into condition for another try in 2001. You have to love a woman like that, but while I am sure I could get into physical condition getting mentally prepared may be another story.
The closest BMW dealers were 200 miles away in Seattle and they were not as helpful as I would have hoped. By Friday evening, the bike is finally patched up enough to get home. I honestly can't remember all of the routes I took. I know I rode over Lolo Pass and through Yellowstone, Crazy Horse Mountain, Mt Rushmore, and the Badlands. After the Badlands I rode all night and wound up the next night in Escanaba, Michigan. I decided to keep an open mind about 2001. Later, Fran Crane's tragic death left me thinking that the possibility is remote. Fran was the last person I talked with before the start and she made a point of finding me at Kennewick to tell me she was sorry about my misfortune.
I have decided that I will not make a final decision until after the Daytona Iron Butt Pizza Party, but I am probably finished with competitive endurance riding.
Updated 03-07-01