My Butt is made of Iron

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So there is this thing called the "Iron Butt Association".  In case you aren't familiar with it, it's a group of motorcyclists who like to ride long distances. Every other year they host a rally across North America where they will typically ride 10,000 - 12,000 miles in 7-10 days. They also certify rides like the CC50 (coast to coast in 50 hours), CCC100 (coast to coast to coast in 100 hours). Famous people are in this club, like Ron Ayres who rode rode in 49 states in 6 days and 31 minutes. To be a member, one must plan, ride and document at least 1000 miles in under 24 hours.

Well, I did it!

It wasn't too bad either. The only hiccup was when I tried to leave at 0430 I kept remembering things forgotten, and couldn't find the Spot etc so I didn't roll out until 0515. First order was to get a gas receipt, so I went to Joe's Mobil to get the non-ethanol-stuff. First thing I noticed was that my remote heated liner and glove controller wasn't working.... great, batteries are dead. I figured I will stop by home and change them as I have some in a drawer and I need to unscrew a cover to get at them. If I were smart I would have checked this the night before.

So. Joe's. The pumps are on, but it wasn't until I had run my card and tried to put fuel into the tank that I realized I had no lights. I was filling in the dark! Thus, I rammed the nozzle all the way down and hoped the auto-shut-off worked. If I were smart I would have gone to another gas station and not risked gas-in-lap-syndrome. But it worked, partially filling my tank, but I didn't get a receipt because I wasn't quick enough to push the requisite button. Dammit!

Ok. Batteries. It was 55f so not totally necessary to get the liners working, and I still needed a receipt, so I resolved to just stop at KwikTrip and get both. Done.

On the road. Finally.

Of course it got colder, 43F by the time I was on I-35. Still OK though, the long undies and wickers turtleneck and the heat from the FJR was sufficient, and with no remote the heated gear reverts to 1/3 power. I wasn't totally comfy, but enough to avoid stopping just to swap batteries. As dawn was .. um ... dawning... I figured it would get warmer.

At the Iowa welcome center it was only 45f and I changed the battieries. Only thing is I bought AA and needed AAA. I had two partially used AAA (a duracell and a super pricey lithium) so I put them in. This will bite me later.

And so I traveled around Des Moines and snacked on a granola bar and a banana. In Omaha I changed to shorts and a t-shirt, and opened a 10 year old MRE.... ewwwww the grilled hamburger patty had leaked all over. Garbage! I ate some beef jerky instead.

And on I rode, through Lincoln, Kearney, and it was pushing 86F. The GPS sid "turn in 299 miles". yay ... ?

TheFJR  was running great, engine purring and the suspension soaking up the road. I tried to keep it at 83 mph but would occasionally find my speed creeping up 95mph. Yikes! Lots of enforcement in Nebraska and Colorado.

Surprisingly I was not tired. The beaded seat cover worked great with the Target-brand wicking performance briefs and about every 30 miles or so I stood on the pegs. Also did my physical therapy on the bike to keep my lumbar limber (so if you see me hump my gas tank, you'll know its not just love for the Yamaha....)

In Colorado I realized that I would not make it to Pueblo KOA before their office closed at 7pm so called them and asked about a late check-in. I figured I could always scare up another camper for a signature. But Carolyn said I could call their number and they would walk over and be witnesses for me .... sweet!

And so I rode, mile after mile. I passed through Aurora while, coincidentally, listening to a podcast (APM's The Story) talking with a high school chem teacher who was at the school the day of the theater shooting.

The interstates flowed smoothly at 80-85 mph. The pavement was perfect. I was on I-470, a toll road with license plate readers. If all toll roads were like this I would so totally support them, as opposed to the ones out east which you pay a fortune for, dig for change, and then dodge potholes and oil slicks.

As the sun set behind the rockies the temps dropped quickly and I needed fuel and more layers. But once off the interstate the road quality tanked and speed limits were redonkulously low. But I was on the home stretch!

Ok the batteries in the remote heat controller have run out. Dammit!

And then I lost audio on the right side. Dammit!

As I neared the campground I thought, ok I should get a final receipt. So I rode four miles past the Pueblo KOA into Pueblo, found a gas station and bought a banana. Back outside I couldn't find my keys... Dammit!

I went back inside and the attendant had them. Whew! Back to the campground. I started to smell race gas....

Carolyn and her husband were waiting there, ready to be my witnesses and they even upgraded me to a cabin so I could "get a good night's rest". That was awfully nice of them! Once again it proves that KOA folks are some of the best folks around - a bit pricier than state parks, but closer to towns, less than hotels, and they often have decent beer in their stores.

Walking to my cabin I realized there was a racetrack across the highway... what I couldn't hear with my earplugs in. The cabin blocked some of the noise.

So now I am just as tough of a rider as y'all!