bgross
Recusant Infidel
Love that rear-view mirror shot of the sunset!
Enjoying the report...
Enjoying the report...
Coast to coast in 48 1/2 hours
- Thread starter garyahouse
- Start date
Help Support Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum:
SFCJCA
It's a dry heat
Gary,
This is great! Thanks for sharing. You're inspiring me to consider a long distance ride.
John
This is great! Thanks for sharing. You're inspiring me to consider a long distance ride.
John
ERS
Well-known member
Gary,
Enjoying your story more than I can express. I find myself checking for updates to it every few hours. You have a God -given talent to 'spin a yarn' as they say.
I actually met you in June 2011 somewhere in the Virginias, you were heading north I think and were stopped at a lookout. I was riding an 84 Yamaha Venture with 3 friends with an ST1100, ST1300 and a BMW K1300GT. I rode the guts out of that Venture to keep up with the others in the twisties and had a blast. When I got home I immediately started looking for a replacement and found my 2006 FJR in New Brunswick. The guy who had the BMW is still shaking his head that anyone would put a car tire on a motorbike!
Anyway, I'm looking forward to the remainder of your yarn.
Keep it coming.
Rick
Enjoying your story more than I can express. I find myself checking for updates to it every few hours. You have a God -given talent to 'spin a yarn' as they say.
I actually met you in June 2011 somewhere in the Virginias, you were heading north I think and were stopped at a lookout. I was riding an 84 Yamaha Venture with 3 friends with an ST1100, ST1300 and a BMW K1300GT. I rode the guts out of that Venture to keep up with the others in the twisties and had a blast. When I got home I immediately started looking for a replacement and found my 2006 FJR in New Brunswick. The guy who had the BMW is still shaking his head that anyone would put a car tire on a motorbike!
Anyway, I'm looking forward to the remainder of your yarn.
Keep it coming.
Rick
garyahouse
newbs need the forum
Note to self: give up going to hotels. They're prejudiced. They don't serve breakfast when I leave in the morning. It's not right: everybody else gets a big hot reward for sleeping in. Another note to self: when you have a really long, exhausting day, don't set the alarm for 4 1/2 hours of sleep. Big mistake. We've all seen people do this on the back seat...
But I was considering this idea while driving. Don't suppose I'd get any advice on how to do THIS maneuver from this forum? I forgot what time I left. Heck, at that hour of the morning, I didn't CARE what time it was. All I know is that I pointed the bike east, and took off. Just after the sun came up IN MY EYES (gag... who turned on the light) I noticed that I was getting low on gas. I checked the GPS for the nearest gas station, and I had two choices. One was straight ahead about 50 miles. I'm not lying. Talk about being in the middle of nowhere. Looking at the gas gauge, I was just about on empty. I continued searching and found another about 35 miles away, if I detoured off my route. Below you can see where I had to go.
The GPS took me north to a little gas station (marked by "A"). It was very early Sunday morning, it was the only gas station (I think) in a tiny one horse town, and are you ready? HALLELUJAH, at...
6:30am June 30 Iraan, Tx...
it was open. You should have heard me squealing, "Thank you Jesus." My FJR was on fumes. So I stopped for gas and breakfast in Iraan. Good grief, I knew I had gotten off track, but I thought Iran was in the Middle East??? What's up with that?
Breakfast on a 50cc ride:
Forget about sitting down to bacon and eggs. Ya learn how to move quickly when you're counting every minute. Even going to the bathroom requires excessive force (did I just say that?) Breakfast involves picking something as quickly as possible. Requirements: it must be available NOW (no waiting). It must be cheap. It must be one solid piece that can be eaten at 80 mph. It must be dry enough that the vacuum created by my windshield doesn't suck liquids like butter out of the sandwich and all over me. Egg McMuffins may indeed taste wonderful, but they've got too much juice in them. Guess how I found that out? Anyway, little breakfast sandwiches from the gas station in Iraan, Texas were perfect because they were a mix between beef jerky, a McMuffin, and cardboard. PERFECT for the Iron Butt wanna-be rider on the go. I bought two, stuck them in my tank bag and took off. The GPS didn't route me Southwest, it took me east all the way to South bound 137 and then to 163 and finally south to Ozona and back onto I-10 Eastbound. I wasn't exactly sure how much time was wasted, but I decided to worry about it later. I did the one hand boogie for about 15 minutes as I set the throttle lock for about 88 and munched on my concrete creations. Thank God I had a fully loaded CamelBak to wash it down. And speaking of getting washed down, I had to take another 10 minutes to drag out the rain suit and get it all on. Looking like rain soon.
8:55am Junction, Tx
My soul, this is a big state. It's so big that it could swallow every other state in the country faster than HotRodZilla could scarf down a dozen...
Well, you get my drift. Edit: sorry AJ, these donut jokes just keep popping in my head. So which is worse, donut addiction, or donut joke addiction? I think I'm getting hooked. Anyway, Texas is HUGE. I heard about one Texas lady whose dog ran off. It took him three days just to get out of sight. And by the way, what's with all the mountains? Remember the song, "Proud to be an American?" It says, "...across the plains of Texas..." How come nobody ever mentions the mountains of Texas? West Texas, for hundreds of miles, is LOADED with them.
11:33pm Schertz, Tx
That rain I was worried about never came, and it was getting awful hot inside the rain suit, so I stopped and took it off. However, a short while later, I found myself in Schertz, Tx putting it back on again while stopping early for gas because it was starting to rain. This time the sky didn't let me down, delivering as expected. As I approached San Antonio, it continued raining for probably 3 hours. I was happy that being wet cooled me off, but ridin' in the rain ain't no fun. When trucks go by at 80 mph, the spray coming off their tires turns an expressway into Niagra Falls. And stopping to go to the bathroom is one GRAND PRODUCTION. Did you ever try to get a rain suit off when you're soaked? Your hands stick like velcro to the inside of the sleeves. Your feet get stuck in the legs. Just trying to get that suit on and off was really time consuming, and actually a little funny. There I was, with one leg in and one leg wishing it were, I was hopping up and down in the bathroom stall. I was struggling with a wet foot that was stuck in the netting that Tourmaster puts in the legs of their Defender series rain suits. That's when I smacked my head on the steel coat hanger thingie on the back of the door. One of the most challenging things I face is what do I say when that happens? The Christian vocabulary just doesn't seem to get the job done very well. "DagNabIt. You meat head." I thought about punching the door, but decided to hold my head instead. It didn't get rid of the pain, but it seemed to help for some reason. Anyway, so much for quick stops at this stage of the ride. I limped back to the bike, slipped my helmet carefully over my lump, and headed on my way again.
1:32pm Brookshire, Tx
Still raining. Stopped for gas because I needed to wake up. A quick walk to the restroom did the trick.
3:54pm Orange, Tx
Finally stopped raining. Stow the rainsuit and continue on. But wow, did it ever get hot and humid. A different kind of heat than the desert, but miserable just the same. How long am I gonna be in Texas? Good grief.
6:45pm Port Allen, La
Soooooo glad to see the sign, welcome to Louisiana. However, I would miss the 80 mph speed limits of Texas. Oh well. The sun was starting to go down.
Fighting with the GPS:
I was wondering if I could pull off a real miracle and drive straight through the night arriving at the Atlantic Coast of Florida by 5am... as the GPS was predicting. You see, I set the GPS for a point that Brett and I chose on Jacksonville Beach, Florida; real close to the water. The GPS was telling me that if I kept going and didn't stop, I'd make it there by 5am Monday morning, 6 hours ahead of the deadline. However, that was nearly 11 hours away, and I was getting pretty tired already. I had 6 hours to spare. The big question was, how could I utilize that 6 hours? Stop and get some sleep? Keep going, and save it 'til later in case there was some huge traffic jam? Since I had nothing better to do, I worked the decision back and forth in my mind. It was like playing a game of...
...Chess. I was so tired. Words fail me here. How can I explain this? My body and my mind was just about numb. 5 hours sleep Friday night, the most grueling day of my life Saturday, 4 1/2 hours sleep Saturday night, and 14 hours (or more) in the saddle already today. My Sergeant seat is pretty comfortable during most rides. But my butt was REALLY getting sore. If I were riding a horse, at least I'd be able to...
--- for awhile. But not on a motorcycle. Though I created at least 5 distinctly different ways to sit on a motorcycle seat, after awhile, they ALL hurt. Not only that, my neck hurt, my hands were getting numb, my back was stiff, even my dumb feet were getting numb at times. One nice thing about the pain. It does help keep you awake. My bottom was on fire. I found myself day-dreaming again. Maybe if I re-routed the tube for the CamelBak...
9:36pm Moss Point, Miss.
I was now about 575 miles from the beach in Jacksonville, Florida. 3/4 of my journey was behind me. I was only going to stop for gas. That was the plan. I can't describe the relief I felt as I listened to the engine decelerate from the 4500 rpm song it had been playing. Just getting off the highway brought an excitement about the joy of getting off that seat, even if only for 5 minutes. I had high hopes of making it a little farther. But as I got ready to get back on the FJR, I just stood there. My mind was racing. If I stop now, and try to sleep with only 5 hours 45 minutes to spare, I'll have to sleep for something like 3 1/2 hours, and get back on the road by about 2am. What if I lay down and can't go to sleep? What if I'm too tired to get up? Maybe I should keep going? After taking a moment to pray for wisdom, I decided to call it quits for the night. I headed into the Super 8 Motel, paid the man 42 bucks or so, and asked him to give me a wake up call in exactly 3 1/2 hours.
More later.
Gary
But I was considering this idea while driving. Don't suppose I'd get any advice on how to do THIS maneuver from this forum? I forgot what time I left. Heck, at that hour of the morning, I didn't CARE what time it was. All I know is that I pointed the bike east, and took off. Just after the sun came up IN MY EYES (gag... who turned on the light) I noticed that I was getting low on gas. I checked the GPS for the nearest gas station, and I had two choices. One was straight ahead about 50 miles. I'm not lying. Talk about being in the middle of nowhere. Looking at the gas gauge, I was just about on empty. I continued searching and found another about 35 miles away, if I detoured off my route. Below you can see where I had to go.
The GPS took me north to a little gas station (marked by "A"). It was very early Sunday morning, it was the only gas station (I think) in a tiny one horse town, and are you ready? HALLELUJAH, at...
6:30am June 30 Iraan, Tx...
it was open. You should have heard me squealing, "Thank you Jesus." My FJR was on fumes. So I stopped for gas and breakfast in Iraan. Good grief, I knew I had gotten off track, but I thought Iran was in the Middle East??? What's up with that?
Breakfast on a 50cc ride:
Forget about sitting down to bacon and eggs. Ya learn how to move quickly when you're counting every minute. Even going to the bathroom requires excessive force (did I just say that?) Breakfast involves picking something as quickly as possible. Requirements: it must be available NOW (no waiting). It must be cheap. It must be one solid piece that can be eaten at 80 mph. It must be dry enough that the vacuum created by my windshield doesn't suck liquids like butter out of the sandwich and all over me. Egg McMuffins may indeed taste wonderful, but they've got too much juice in them. Guess how I found that out? Anyway, little breakfast sandwiches from the gas station in Iraan, Texas were perfect because they were a mix between beef jerky, a McMuffin, and cardboard. PERFECT for the Iron Butt wanna-be rider on the go. I bought two, stuck them in my tank bag and took off. The GPS didn't route me Southwest, it took me east all the way to South bound 137 and then to 163 and finally south to Ozona and back onto I-10 Eastbound. I wasn't exactly sure how much time was wasted, but I decided to worry about it later. I did the one hand boogie for about 15 minutes as I set the throttle lock for about 88 and munched on my concrete creations. Thank God I had a fully loaded CamelBak to wash it down. And speaking of getting washed down, I had to take another 10 minutes to drag out the rain suit and get it all on. Looking like rain soon.
8:55am Junction, Tx
My soul, this is a big state. It's so big that it could swallow every other state in the country faster than HotRodZilla could scarf down a dozen...
Well, you get my drift. Edit: sorry AJ, these donut jokes just keep popping in my head. So which is worse, donut addiction, or donut joke addiction? I think I'm getting hooked. Anyway, Texas is HUGE. I heard about one Texas lady whose dog ran off. It took him three days just to get out of sight. And by the way, what's with all the mountains? Remember the song, "Proud to be an American?" It says, "...across the plains of Texas..." How come nobody ever mentions the mountains of Texas? West Texas, for hundreds of miles, is LOADED with them.
11:33pm Schertz, Tx
That rain I was worried about never came, and it was getting awful hot inside the rain suit, so I stopped and took it off. However, a short while later, I found myself in Schertz, Tx putting it back on again while stopping early for gas because it was starting to rain. This time the sky didn't let me down, delivering as expected. As I approached San Antonio, it continued raining for probably 3 hours. I was happy that being wet cooled me off, but ridin' in the rain ain't no fun. When trucks go by at 80 mph, the spray coming off their tires turns an expressway into Niagra Falls. And stopping to go to the bathroom is one GRAND PRODUCTION. Did you ever try to get a rain suit off when you're soaked? Your hands stick like velcro to the inside of the sleeves. Your feet get stuck in the legs. Just trying to get that suit on and off was really time consuming, and actually a little funny. There I was, with one leg in and one leg wishing it were, I was hopping up and down in the bathroom stall. I was struggling with a wet foot that was stuck in the netting that Tourmaster puts in the legs of their Defender series rain suits. That's when I smacked my head on the steel coat hanger thingie on the back of the door. One of the most challenging things I face is what do I say when that happens? The Christian vocabulary just doesn't seem to get the job done very well. "DagNabIt. You meat head." I thought about punching the door, but decided to hold my head instead. It didn't get rid of the pain, but it seemed to help for some reason. Anyway, so much for quick stops at this stage of the ride. I limped back to the bike, slipped my helmet carefully over my lump, and headed on my way again.
1:32pm Brookshire, Tx
Still raining. Stopped for gas because I needed to wake up. A quick walk to the restroom did the trick.
3:54pm Orange, Tx
Finally stopped raining. Stow the rainsuit and continue on. But wow, did it ever get hot and humid. A different kind of heat than the desert, but miserable just the same. How long am I gonna be in Texas? Good grief.
6:45pm Port Allen, La
Soooooo glad to see the sign, welcome to Louisiana. However, I would miss the 80 mph speed limits of Texas. Oh well. The sun was starting to go down.
Fighting with the GPS:
I was wondering if I could pull off a real miracle and drive straight through the night arriving at the Atlantic Coast of Florida by 5am... as the GPS was predicting. You see, I set the GPS for a point that Brett and I chose on Jacksonville Beach, Florida; real close to the water. The GPS was telling me that if I kept going and didn't stop, I'd make it there by 5am Monday morning, 6 hours ahead of the deadline. However, that was nearly 11 hours away, and I was getting pretty tired already. I had 6 hours to spare. The big question was, how could I utilize that 6 hours? Stop and get some sleep? Keep going, and save it 'til later in case there was some huge traffic jam? Since I had nothing better to do, I worked the decision back and forth in my mind. It was like playing a game of...
...Chess. I was so tired. Words fail me here. How can I explain this? My body and my mind was just about numb. 5 hours sleep Friday night, the most grueling day of my life Saturday, 4 1/2 hours sleep Saturday night, and 14 hours (or more) in the saddle already today. My Sergeant seat is pretty comfortable during most rides. But my butt was REALLY getting sore. If I were riding a horse, at least I'd be able to...
--- for awhile. But not on a motorcycle. Though I created at least 5 distinctly different ways to sit on a motorcycle seat, after awhile, they ALL hurt. Not only that, my neck hurt, my hands were getting numb, my back was stiff, even my dumb feet were getting numb at times. One nice thing about the pain. It does help keep you awake. My bottom was on fire. I found myself day-dreaming again. Maybe if I re-routed the tube for the CamelBak...
9:36pm Moss Point, Miss.
I was now about 575 miles from the beach in Jacksonville, Florida. 3/4 of my journey was behind me. I was only going to stop for gas. That was the plan. I can't describe the relief I felt as I listened to the engine decelerate from the 4500 rpm song it had been playing. Just getting off the highway brought an excitement about the joy of getting off that seat, even if only for 5 minutes. I had high hopes of making it a little farther. But as I got ready to get back on the FJR, I just stood there. My mind was racing. If I stop now, and try to sleep with only 5 hours 45 minutes to spare, I'll have to sleep for something like 3 1/2 hours, and get back on the road by about 2am. What if I lay down and can't go to sleep? What if I'm too tired to get up? Maybe I should keep going? After taking a moment to pray for wisdom, I decided to call it quits for the night. I headed into the Super 8 Motel, paid the man 42 bucks or so, and asked him to give me a wake up call in exactly 3 1/2 hours.
More later.
Gary
Last edited by a moderator:
Redfish Hunter
Gone Fishing
I have to say that with practice your Ride Reports are getting smoother and more polished. You are doing very well. The next thing you need to work on is your vocabulary. A few good swear words are really an essential addition to any vocabulary. From what I am seeing, you definitely are going to need some one day.
gixxerjasen
Well-known member
Whoah. Easy solution for your noggin. Wear a mesh riding suit. Leave the rain suit at home. Then you don't have to worry about stopping to pee in a rain storm.
steve_g
Well-known member
Brilliant, you must of stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night.Whoah. Easy solution for your noggin. Wear a mesh riding suit. Leave the rain suit at home. Then you don't have to worry about stopping to pee in a rain storm.
08FJR4ME
-WYNPRO-
Something I learned doing long distance days is to slow down for a bit and stand up on the pegs. It relieves you Arss and gets the blood flowing again in your legs. Does wonders and It only takes a few minutes and you feel so much better.
Long distance hint of the day.
Dave
Long distance hint of the day.
Dave
garyahouse
newbs need the forum
A really close call
I have to put in an edit here. I could open the above post and stick it in, but i'll just slide it in here. Somewhere around sundown, I was taking a ramp... from one two lane expressway onto another. I forget exactly where it was, but it was on I-10. I was coming around a left hand sweeper... it was a ramp leading to another leg of 1-10, I think. Normal safe speed would have been around 55 I'm guessing, I was doing a little over 60. Nothing to it... normally. However, I wasn't sure where I was, or why I was getting off one expressway to get onto another. I was just following the GPS like I had for the whole trip. I was trying to check the GPS while beginning the turn. All together, I needed to turn about 90 degrees. That's when it happened, and the biggest reason I titled this thread, "Lucky to be alive." I remember thinking, "Now where's this thing taking me?" I'm checking the GPS, and the sun behind me is making it difficult to read the screen. It's a cheapo, so there's no bluetooth and no verbal directions going on that I can hear above the wind noise. In a split second of time, I misjudged the curve and found myself dangerously close to the white line on the outside, and getting closer. It would have been easy enough to correct, just kick the front tire a little to the right, and the bike will lean a little more to the left, correct it's line and sweep back to the center of the lane. However, there was a problem. Maybe 8 inches from that white line was gravel, perhaps 8 feet wide, and then the guard rail. Beyond that I couldn't see easily, but I didn't want to find out. I immediately kicked the front tire to the right to attempt to put it on the white line, or just a hair beyond... to correct my "line." However, though I could keep the tire on the line with a few inches to spare, I could feel the bike beginning to stand up, which meant in short order, I'd be heading into the gravel. At this speed on this turn, there was no way I could lean it over THAT FAR on gravel without going down. My heart jumped in my throat and I went into panic mode. I did the only thing I could think of: hit the rear brake. Thanks to the fact that I have anti-lock brakes, the bike slowed down in a hurry. I scrubbed off 10 mph in about a second, and instead of beginning to stand up, the bike held it's balance perfectly just to the right of the white line, and ever so gradually began to lean back toward the center of the road where upon I was able to steer it back to where it belonged. And just as soon as it had happened, it was over.
I've described this as well as I can with words. You'll have to fill in the blanks with your experience and understanding of how steering and braking work. All I know is whether or not I did the right thing, it worked. Here's the kicker: one split second more, and I would have hit that gravel. From there it would have gotten real ugly, real fast. Had I lived to talk about it, I might have been typing this report from a hospital bed. I think at that moment in time, God himself reached down and gave me a little nudge. No I didn't feel anything or hear or see anything. I don't believe in all that spooky stuff. But I do believe that I had some help when I needed it most. I am indeed, lucky to be alive. As one fella put it, it wasn't my time yet. I was, and am, so thankful to be alive. One more second, 6 more inches, and this ride report would have been a VERY different story. It was just that close
OK... deep breath here: back to the story:
The hotel:
I did the same thing Sunday night that I did the night before: set my alarm, plugged in my phone to charge, plopped on the bed and the alarm went off. I say that because it seemed to me that I no sooner put my head down, that it was time to get up. The young feller at the front desk did his job: the phone rang in my room exactly 3 1/2 hours after I checked in. My iPod alarm went off a minute or two later. I would have loved to be able to take a shower. However, if I did...
I would be wasting too much precious time.
The home stretch
I was on the bike and riding again within about 10 minutes. At this point I was a little scared. My body was telling me that something was really wrong. I wasn't just tired, I was woozy. My balance felt off. My eyes felt like they had sand in them. Yawns were coming faster than white lines on the pavement. Under any other situation, common sense would have me get off that bike immediately. I told myself that if I didn't start waking up very soon, I'd need to do so. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, turned up the iPod, and prayed for the stamina to go on.
The GPS
Sure enough, the fog in my head began to clear. It was about 2:30am, dark outside, and about 74 degrees. Unlike yesterday morning, my bottom did NOT feel a lot better after a good night's rest. It hurt as soon as I got on the bike. Though this was the final leg of my journey, I still had a ways to go before I was on Florida soil. The GPs said that I'd arrive at something like 9am if I rode straight through without stopping. I was very happy to see that I had a 2 hour cushion. But would that be enough?
4:37am Marianna, Fla.
Time to fill her up. Finally back on Florida soil and I'm feeling better, at least from the neck up. It had been over 3 weeks since I left. Looking at the gas gage and the number of miles left in the trip, I needed some advice. I called my buddy Mark who lives in Tampa, and is up early for work each day. I asked him to check the weather ahead as well as the number of miles yet to go. It appeared that I would need to stop at least a couple times for gas, and no telling how often from fatigue. Obviously I had to stop if I got too tired to go on. I was also concerned about rush hour traffic on this Monday morning. We've all been stranded in bumper to bumper traffic on an expressway, stuck behind some accident up ahead. I would hate to lose too much time and have to throw it all away by not completing the run in the required 50 hours.
Mark confirmed that there were some nasty storms ahead near Jacksonville. I would indeed be nearing Jacksonville slightly after the busiest part of rush hour. This was not looking good. However, I close this segment of my report with this picture:
There is nothing in this world like seeing the sunrise on a trip like this. This picture only provides about 10 percent of that thrill.
More later.
Gary
I have to put in an edit here. I could open the above post and stick it in, but i'll just slide it in here. Somewhere around sundown, I was taking a ramp... from one two lane expressway onto another. I forget exactly where it was, but it was on I-10. I was coming around a left hand sweeper... it was a ramp leading to another leg of 1-10, I think. Normal safe speed would have been around 55 I'm guessing, I was doing a little over 60. Nothing to it... normally. However, I wasn't sure where I was, or why I was getting off one expressway to get onto another. I was just following the GPS like I had for the whole trip. I was trying to check the GPS while beginning the turn. All together, I needed to turn about 90 degrees. That's when it happened, and the biggest reason I titled this thread, "Lucky to be alive." I remember thinking, "Now where's this thing taking me?" I'm checking the GPS, and the sun behind me is making it difficult to read the screen. It's a cheapo, so there's no bluetooth and no verbal directions going on that I can hear above the wind noise. In a split second of time, I misjudged the curve and found myself dangerously close to the white line on the outside, and getting closer. It would have been easy enough to correct, just kick the front tire a little to the right, and the bike will lean a little more to the left, correct it's line and sweep back to the center of the lane. However, there was a problem. Maybe 8 inches from that white line was gravel, perhaps 8 feet wide, and then the guard rail. Beyond that I couldn't see easily, but I didn't want to find out. I immediately kicked the front tire to the right to attempt to put it on the white line, or just a hair beyond... to correct my "line." However, though I could keep the tire on the line with a few inches to spare, I could feel the bike beginning to stand up, which meant in short order, I'd be heading into the gravel. At this speed on this turn, there was no way I could lean it over THAT FAR on gravel without going down. My heart jumped in my throat and I went into panic mode. I did the only thing I could think of: hit the rear brake. Thanks to the fact that I have anti-lock brakes, the bike slowed down in a hurry. I scrubbed off 10 mph in about a second, and instead of beginning to stand up, the bike held it's balance perfectly just to the right of the white line, and ever so gradually began to lean back toward the center of the road where upon I was able to steer it back to where it belonged. And just as soon as it had happened, it was over.
I've described this as well as I can with words. You'll have to fill in the blanks with your experience and understanding of how steering and braking work. All I know is whether or not I did the right thing, it worked. Here's the kicker: one split second more, and I would have hit that gravel. From there it would have gotten real ugly, real fast. Had I lived to talk about it, I might have been typing this report from a hospital bed. I think at that moment in time, God himself reached down and gave me a little nudge. No I didn't feel anything or hear or see anything. I don't believe in all that spooky stuff. But I do believe that I had some help when I needed it most. I am indeed, lucky to be alive. As one fella put it, it wasn't my time yet. I was, and am, so thankful to be alive. One more second, 6 more inches, and this ride report would have been a VERY different story. It was just that close
The hotel:
I did the same thing Sunday night that I did the night before: set my alarm, plugged in my phone to charge, plopped on the bed and the alarm went off. I say that because it seemed to me that I no sooner put my head down, that it was time to get up. The young feller at the front desk did his job: the phone rang in my room exactly 3 1/2 hours after I checked in. My iPod alarm went off a minute or two later. I would have loved to be able to take a shower. However, if I did...
I would be wasting too much precious time.
The home stretch
I was on the bike and riding again within about 10 minutes. At this point I was a little scared. My body was telling me that something was really wrong. I wasn't just tired, I was woozy. My balance felt off. My eyes felt like they had sand in them. Yawns were coming faster than white lines on the pavement. Under any other situation, common sense would have me get off that bike immediately. I told myself that if I didn't start waking up very soon, I'd need to do so. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, turned up the iPod, and prayed for the stamina to go on.
The GPS
Sure enough, the fog in my head began to clear. It was about 2:30am, dark outside, and about 74 degrees. Unlike yesterday morning, my bottom did NOT feel a lot better after a good night's rest. It hurt as soon as I got on the bike. Though this was the final leg of my journey, I still had a ways to go before I was on Florida soil. The GPs said that I'd arrive at something like 9am if I rode straight through without stopping. I was very happy to see that I had a 2 hour cushion. But would that be enough?
4:37am Marianna, Fla.
Time to fill her up. Finally back on Florida soil and I'm feeling better, at least from the neck up. It had been over 3 weeks since I left. Looking at the gas gage and the number of miles left in the trip, I needed some advice. I called my buddy Mark who lives in Tampa, and is up early for work each day. I asked him to check the weather ahead as well as the number of miles yet to go. It appeared that I would need to stop at least a couple times for gas, and no telling how often from fatigue. Obviously I had to stop if I got too tired to go on. I was also concerned about rush hour traffic on this Monday morning. We've all been stranded in bumper to bumper traffic on an expressway, stuck behind some accident up ahead. I would hate to lose too much time and have to throw it all away by not completing the run in the required 50 hours.
Mark confirmed that there were some nasty storms ahead near Jacksonville. I would indeed be nearing Jacksonville slightly after the busiest part of rush hour. This was not looking good. However, I close this segment of my report with this picture:
There is nothing in this world like seeing the sunrise on a trip like this. This picture only provides about 10 percent of that thrill.
More later.
Gary
Last edited by a moderator:
Epic trip Gary.... EPIC trip!!
wheatonFJR
...
Good job Gary!!! Thanks for the report!
However, in your scary off ramp section, you mentioned that the bike started to stand up...was front brake being applied to get that bike reaction?
In any event good job moving to the rear brake and leaning and looking where you want to go.
Kudos to you for doing the right thing and getting back home to your family and friends...and accomplishing your goal...and writing a report about it for this miserable crowd.
However, in your scary off ramp section, you mentioned that the bike started to stand up...was front brake being applied to get that bike reaction?
In any event good job moving to the rear brake and leaning and looking where you want to go.
Kudos to you for doing the right thing and getting back home to your family and friends...and accomplishing your goal...and writing a report about it for this miserable crowd.
garyahouse
newbs need the forum
I did not touch the front brake, just the rear. Not sure exactly why, it was the first reaction of a guy who couldn't recall ever being in that position before.
bgross
Recusant Infidel
Brilliant!Whoah. Easy solution for your noggin. Wear a mesh riding suit. Leave the rain suit at home. Then you don't have to worry about stopping to pee in a rain storm.
Note to self: order a Beadrider "potty seat cover".
rogdeb
Scouser
Really cool photoA really close call
equired 50 hours.
Mark confirmed that there were some nasty storms ahead near Jacksonville. I would indeed be nearing Jacksonville slightly after the busiest part of rush hour. This was not looking good. However, I close this segment of my report with this picture:
There is nothing in this world like seeing the sunrise on a trip like this. This picture only provides about 10 percent of that thrill.
More later.
Gary
stryg8r
Well-known member
Great report Gary! I feel I'm right there with you. I know that exact feeling of watching the sun come up after riding through the night. Words can't describe.
So come on man, lets get going. We can do it. Just hope the storm isn't too bad and we don't get hung up in Jax traffic.
So come on man, lets get going. We can do it. Just hope the storm isn't too bad and we don't get hung up in Jax traffic.
Redfish Hunter
Gone Fishing
Gary has gotten his priorities mixed up. Instead of finishing this RR like he should have, he is off to Deal's Gap with his lovely daughter. So, here we all sit waiting while he is off on another motorcycle adventure. How selfish is that?
dcarver
Well-known member
Really selfish
ionbeam
2 FUN
How rude. Gosh, I hope it doesn't work like my Garmin 550 where the new track will over write the old track
Hopefully the coast-to-coast has been converted to a saved route so Gary can finish the final ~500 miles for us.
gixxerjasen
Well-known member
He stopped THERE to go riding? WT(insert final acronym letter that works in this now very clean thread) man!!?!?!?!?
garyahouse
newbs need the forum
4:37am Marianna, Fla. (continued from above)
After the fill up at Mariana, Fla., I've got 233 miles yet to go. The GPS says about 3 hours and 45 minutes. Based on the time measured at the gas pump, that would get me to my destination just before 8:30am, with about 2 1/2 hours to spare. However, that was not the case. I had to do several things in Marianna.
1. Dumb gas pump won't give me a receipt. Gotta head in to the station to get it.
2. Fill the CamelBak one last time. It's probably going to get warm in a hurry once the sun comes up.
3. Back out to the bike; clouds looking ominous. Rain's a-coming. Better get the rain suit and the rain booties on.
4. Gotta go. Back into the station, pull off the rainsuit. Starting to sweat. Everything sticks to me. Uggghhh, why does everything have to take so long?
5. Fill out IBA trip log info. Stow the receipts in a zip lock bag.
6. Starving. Need grub. Hop on bike: scan horizon... remind self, it's 4:37am ya doe-doe: forget about fast food: back into gas station for a couple of their grotesque sausage muffin thingies.
They tasted a little funny, but it was too dark to see them, and I was too tired to care. Ha...you know you're eating something gross when it bites back...
---Finally back out on road, look at watch: that stop was over 20 minutes. Ugghh. Time for another lecture. Gotta make faster pit stops, Gary. OK, so it's about 4:55am or so. GPS says I'll arrive at around 8:40am if I don't stop. However, can the FJR go 243 miles without filling up? Maybe. But what if I get stuck in a traffic jam? What if I run outa gas? I could just see myself trying to run down the side of the road in my rainsuit pushing the FJR in a desperate attempt to get to the "finish line" on time. So the decision was made, rather than chance it, I'd have to stop for gas again. It shouldn't be big deal as long as I didn't get stuck in some traffic jam.
-- I finally finished up the imitation sausage sliders running at about 75 mph with one hand on the throttle and the other in my mouth. They didn't taste too bad actually, and at least I wasn't starving any more.
Another issue to deal with was my physical condition. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open at times. Fatigue and sleepiness seemed to come in waves. I managed once again to fight it off. I had perhaps 1 hour and 20 minutes to go when it got really bad.
I tried fighting it off,
But this trick didn't work so well while trying to hold on to the handlebars.
So I pulled off the road at Lake City for gas. I was in and out in no time (hurray???) and stopping for awhile helped to me wake up. Though I saw some sprinkles, Mark was right. He said that the rain appeared to be heading away from me, like some giant arm just reached down and swept it out of my way. Make a note: another answered prayer. For quite a while, I was riding on wet pavement through light sprinkles, just waiting to drive right into a thunderstorm. I've done that more than once in the past. However, with lighting and nasty clouds in front of me, I never caught up with the storm. It had done it's damage and left... by the time I arrived. All was well and I had about 2 1/4 hours to spare according to the GPS's predicted arrival time. And then it happened. As I neared Jacksonville, all of a sudden, traffic slowed to a stop on I-10.
I was in the middle of nowhere, and the GPS couldn't offer any detours as I couldn't get off the expressway. I strained my stiff neck and my tired eyes in an attempt to see far enough ahead to answer the questions:
1. What's the problem?
2. How long is this going to take?
You never know what is up ahead blocking traffic...
No, that's not what was holding up the traffic. But I imagined everything it could be. Traffic was inching forward, rarely more than 50 feet every minute or so. I kept looking at my watch. Is this an accident, or just normal heavy traffic that'll clear out soon? All of a sudden I remembered a little trick I learned on California highways just a couple days ago:
Lane splitting: though I never did it before, I watched countless bikes do it in California, where it's apparently legal. Hmmm, what to do? What a great way to get through a traffic jam in a hurry. I decided to behave myself as it is not legal in Florida as far as I know. Thankfully after a 35-40 minute delay, the traffic cleared out and I was on my way again.
I was feeling:
And sure enough, at about 9:30am, just to keep with the scope and spirit of this entire trip, I had to pull one last maneuver. As I neared the Atlantic Ocean just south of Jacksonville, FL, I drove right past the last gas station between the city and the beach. And just about the time I saw the water, I realized that there were no more gas stations around, and had to turn around and head back a mile or so to the last station I saw. According to the IBA rules, my ride wasn't completed until I had proof. I pulled in, jumped off the bike, stuffed my credit card into the reader on the pump, and filled my tank for the last time on my coast to coast run. When I pulled out the receipt, it read: 9:35am. I had completed my Coast to Coast run in 48 1/2 hours. But I had two more things to do.
First, I headed for the beach.
I asked a feller walking by if he'd take a quick picture of me. I needed a "quick" picture because I was parked illegally here. Huge sign next to the bike saying, "No Parking." However, I just had to get this picture. Next, I parked the FJR properly, and headed down to the beach itself. The first person I found was a young high school graduate named Angela. I told asked her if she'd be so kind as to take my picture. On the way to the beach I told her a little of my story. She remarked that it was pretty amazing and took the following picture of me...
...as I filled up my water bottle marked, "Atlantic Ocean." From that point, I had one more item to take care of. It was time to find a police officer to sign my IBA form. Less than 10 minutes after this picture was taken, I saw one of Jacksonville's finest sitting on the side of the road. I pulled over, told him my story, and asked if he'd sign my form. Check this out. He commented that he'd done this before, but that he usually signed IBA forms for guys who were beginning their trip, and were headed for California. I did it exactly backwards. Hmmm. Figures. This whole trip was unusual. Interesting thought: this was the first person involved in any way with my trip that knew something about the IBA, or had a clue about what I was doing. But that's OK. I knew what I was doing, and that's what mattered.
Aftermath:
I did a little math. The Yammie covered about 24 hundred miles from San Diego to Jacksonville Beach, including my brief Texas detour and a couple wrong turns. The FJR made just a tick under 40 mpg. The gas was a little better than 200 and the hotels were about 85. All that plus a nominal fee to the IBA buys me one 8 1/2 x 11 certificate, suitable for framing... and that's IF they choose to grant it to me. I've submitted all the required paperwork including 4 witness forms and 19 receipts. I'm still waiting to hear from them.
But for me, this journey was far more than a membership in the IBA, or the "50cc" certificate I'm hoping they'll award me. It was about doing the impossible. It was about refusing to allow a dream to die. It was about timing, sacrifice, a little $$ and a lot of sweat, a touch of luck and a great deal of prayer and the help of many along the way. The doctor told me not to do it, my friends asked me why I'd want to do it, my family hoped I wouldn't do it, but my heart told me that I must do it. And against all the odds; including the record setting heat in the desert and the limited abilities of this body of mine, I pulled it off. To some on this forum: ehhh-- just another IBA ride. But to me, it was my first, most likely my last, and it was...
AMAZING.
And just like our old buddy Forest,
That's all I got to say about that.
Gary
darksider #44
After the fill up at Mariana, Fla., I've got 233 miles yet to go. The GPS says about 3 hours and 45 minutes. Based on the time measured at the gas pump, that would get me to my destination just before 8:30am, with about 2 1/2 hours to spare. However, that was not the case. I had to do several things in Marianna.
1. Dumb gas pump won't give me a receipt. Gotta head in to the station to get it.
2. Fill the CamelBak one last time. It's probably going to get warm in a hurry once the sun comes up.
3. Back out to the bike; clouds looking ominous. Rain's a-coming. Better get the rain suit and the rain booties on.
4. Gotta go. Back into the station, pull off the rainsuit. Starting to sweat. Everything sticks to me. Uggghhh, why does everything have to take so long?
5. Fill out IBA trip log info. Stow the receipts in a zip lock bag.
6. Starving. Need grub. Hop on bike: scan horizon... remind self, it's 4:37am ya doe-doe: forget about fast food: back into gas station for a couple of their grotesque sausage muffin thingies.
They tasted a little funny, but it was too dark to see them, and I was too tired to care. Ha...you know you're eating something gross when it bites back...
---Finally back out on road, look at watch: that stop was over 20 minutes. Ugghh. Time for another lecture. Gotta make faster pit stops, Gary. OK, so it's about 4:55am or so. GPS says I'll arrive at around 8:40am if I don't stop. However, can the FJR go 243 miles without filling up? Maybe. But what if I get stuck in a traffic jam? What if I run outa gas? I could just see myself trying to run down the side of the road in my rainsuit pushing the FJR in a desperate attempt to get to the "finish line" on time. So the decision was made, rather than chance it, I'd have to stop for gas again. It shouldn't be big deal as long as I didn't get stuck in some traffic jam.
-- I finally finished up the imitation sausage sliders running at about 75 mph with one hand on the throttle and the other in my mouth. They didn't taste too bad actually, and at least I wasn't starving any more.
Another issue to deal with was my physical condition. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open at times. Fatigue and sleepiness seemed to come in waves. I managed once again to fight it off. I had perhaps 1 hour and 20 minutes to go when it got really bad.
I tried fighting it off,
But this trick didn't work so well while trying to hold on to the handlebars.
So I pulled off the road at Lake City for gas. I was in and out in no time (hurray???) and stopping for awhile helped to me wake up. Though I saw some sprinkles, Mark was right. He said that the rain appeared to be heading away from me, like some giant arm just reached down and swept it out of my way. Make a note: another answered prayer. For quite a while, I was riding on wet pavement through light sprinkles, just waiting to drive right into a thunderstorm. I've done that more than once in the past. However, with lighting and nasty clouds in front of me, I never caught up with the storm. It had done it's damage and left... by the time I arrived. All was well and I had about 2 1/4 hours to spare according to the GPS's predicted arrival time. And then it happened. As I neared Jacksonville, all of a sudden, traffic slowed to a stop on I-10.
I was in the middle of nowhere, and the GPS couldn't offer any detours as I couldn't get off the expressway. I strained my stiff neck and my tired eyes in an attempt to see far enough ahead to answer the questions:
1. What's the problem?
2. How long is this going to take?
You never know what is up ahead blocking traffic...
No, that's not what was holding up the traffic. But I imagined everything it could be. Traffic was inching forward, rarely more than 50 feet every minute or so. I kept looking at my watch. Is this an accident, or just normal heavy traffic that'll clear out soon? All of a sudden I remembered a little trick I learned on California highways just a couple days ago:
Lane splitting: though I never did it before, I watched countless bikes do it in California, where it's apparently legal. Hmmm, what to do? What a great way to get through a traffic jam in a hurry. I decided to behave myself as it is not legal in Florida as far as I know. Thankfully after a 35-40 minute delay, the traffic cleared out and I was on my way again.
I was feeling:
And sure enough, at about 9:30am, just to keep with the scope and spirit of this entire trip, I had to pull one last maneuver. As I neared the Atlantic Ocean just south of Jacksonville, FL, I drove right past the last gas station between the city and the beach. And just about the time I saw the water, I realized that there were no more gas stations around, and had to turn around and head back a mile or so to the last station I saw. According to the IBA rules, my ride wasn't completed until I had proof. I pulled in, jumped off the bike, stuffed my credit card into the reader on the pump, and filled my tank for the last time on my coast to coast run. When I pulled out the receipt, it read: 9:35am. I had completed my Coast to Coast run in 48 1/2 hours. But I had two more things to do.
First, I headed for the beach.
I asked a feller walking by if he'd take a quick picture of me. I needed a "quick" picture because I was parked illegally here. Huge sign next to the bike saying, "No Parking." However, I just had to get this picture. Next, I parked the FJR properly, and headed down to the beach itself. The first person I found was a young high school graduate named Angela. I told asked her if she'd be so kind as to take my picture. On the way to the beach I told her a little of my story. She remarked that it was pretty amazing and took the following picture of me...
...as I filled up my water bottle marked, "Atlantic Ocean." From that point, I had one more item to take care of. It was time to find a police officer to sign my IBA form. Less than 10 minutes after this picture was taken, I saw one of Jacksonville's finest sitting on the side of the road. I pulled over, told him my story, and asked if he'd sign my form. Check this out. He commented that he'd done this before, but that he usually signed IBA forms for guys who were beginning their trip, and were headed for California. I did it exactly backwards. Hmmm. Figures. This whole trip was unusual. Interesting thought: this was the first person involved in any way with my trip that knew something about the IBA, or had a clue about what I was doing. But that's OK. I knew what I was doing, and that's what mattered.
Aftermath:
I did a little math. The Yammie covered about 24 hundred miles from San Diego to Jacksonville Beach, including my brief Texas detour and a couple wrong turns. The FJR made just a tick under 40 mpg. The gas was a little better than 200 and the hotels were about 85. All that plus a nominal fee to the IBA buys me one 8 1/2 x 11 certificate, suitable for framing... and that's IF they choose to grant it to me. I've submitted all the required paperwork including 4 witness forms and 19 receipts. I'm still waiting to hear from them.
But for me, this journey was far more than a membership in the IBA, or the "50cc" certificate I'm hoping they'll award me. It was about doing the impossible. It was about refusing to allow a dream to die. It was about timing, sacrifice, a little $$ and a lot of sweat, a touch of luck and a great deal of prayer and the help of many along the way. The doctor told me not to do it, my friends asked me why I'd want to do it, my family hoped I wouldn't do it, but my heart told me that I must do it. And against all the odds; including the record setting heat in the desert and the limited abilities of this body of mine, I pulled it off. To some on this forum: ehhh-- just another IBA ride. But to me, it was my first, most likely my last, and it was...
AMAZING.
And just like our old buddy Forest,
That's all I got to say about that.
Gary
darksider #44
Last edited by a moderator:
