Day 9 is posted!
Great background story on the genesis of this particular rally and tidbits riders have been facing with the challenge.
On the questionable end is a possible SPOT stalker that may have wadded up their bike following a rider. Bleh!
And particularly poignant with some fresh adjective is the period of the rally we're entering. I call it The Fog, but Iron Butt Funk is an even better description.
I can testify to this. The first year I was in California with my front wheel aimed towards the finish line in St. Louis and swore my final drive was failing. It felt and sounded like metal on metal when I leaned into the turns of I-80 near Reno. I even started developing a plan to where I'd ask a new FJR rider I met, RenoJohn, if I could borrow his final drive to finish the rally. I even stopped and phoned Warchild of my drama.
He said very calmly, "Run your hand over that ME-880 you have. Does it feel irregular?"
I said, "Yes, it does. Like their are ridges."
He said, "Your final drive is fine. It's going to howl like a bitch all the way back home, but you'll be fine. But, stop right now and get some sleep."
I did. It helped.
...until I ran across that unexpected 47,000 foot summit in Kansas, but that's a story for another post.
Ride through the funky fog Iron Butt Riders!
Great background story on the genesis of this particular rally and tidbits riders have been facing with the challenge.
On the questionable end is a possible SPOT stalker that may have wadded up their bike following a rider. Bleh!
And particularly poignant with some fresh adjective is the period of the rally we're entering. I call it The Fog, but Iron Butt Funk is an even better description.
Beyond mechanical issues, the last few days of the Iron Butt Rally are of then most difficult for the rider. Call it the Iron Butt Funk. Multiday rallies wear on a rider, both physically and mentally. Fatigue creeps in. Adrenaline has long since worn off. Failure to properly condition ahead of time, or maintain diet (or other habits) starts to impact the rider. Undeveloped routines breakdown. This is when riders tart forgetting to record miles or time at bonuses, or collect necessary receipts, or read instructions. What Mike Kneebone described in the riders's meeting as "where the weird stuff starts to happen."
I can testify to this. The first year I was in California with my front wheel aimed towards the finish line in St. Louis and swore my final drive was failing. It felt and sounded like metal on metal when I leaned into the turns of I-80 near Reno. I even started developing a plan to where I'd ask a new FJR rider I met, RenoJohn, if I could borrow his final drive to finish the rally. I even stopped and phoned Warchild of my drama.
He said very calmly, "Run your hand over that ME-880 you have. Does it feel irregular?"
I said, "Yes, it does. Like their are ridges."
He said, "Your final drive is fine. It's going to howl like a bitch all the way back home, but you'll be fine. But, stop right now and get some sleep."
I did. It helped.
...until I ran across that unexpected 47,000 foot summit in Kansas, but that's a story for another post.
Ride through the funky fog Iron Butt Riders!
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