“I’m a smooth rider baby.
“You know I just keep movin’ on.
“I don’t know why I like to carry on the way I do.”
“You know I just keep movin’ on.
“I don’t know why I like to carry on the way I do.”
(Smooth Rider, DMB, Dave Matthews)
There’s a rhythm to it, this dance. In and out of traffic, feathering the clutch, gentle on the brakes , sliding between fenders, slow.. slow… slow….. a gap opens, downshift, gentle throttle, slip between the cages, past the bumper - nudge with a knee, lean gently, snapback, downshift, roll on the throttle, upshift, check your mirrors, idle… idle… burble along….. remember to breathe, signal, LOOK, lean… slow… slow… slow…
and as the last forward momentum falls off the wheels, touch down a toe for a brief moment –
and repeat.
again, and again, and again.
and as the last forward momentum falls off the wheels, touch down a toe for a brief moment –
and repeat.
again, and again, and again.
“We 11 moved along the broken line
watching for that extra bit of space, that extra second of time -
dancing to the throb of the traffic.”
watching for that extra bit of space, that extra second of time -
dancing to the throb of the traffic.”
PROLOGUE:
On Friday, November 17th, I’m telling my wife - “Hon, all we have to do is average one lap per hour, which is 17 hours, and we’ll be done by 2 AM Sunday. I should be home by 5 am Sunday. This will be a bit boring, but it shouldn’t be that difficult.”
Sheeez. Am I an ***** or what …… :blink:
“We were stupid first.”
George Zelenz
George Zelenz
About a month or so ago, a three sentence email from Mr. Z dropped into my folder - - -
“November 18th is a Saddlesore ride in LA. You game for that? You can sleep in your own bed.”
I reply: “And tell me more about the SS1k - route?”
Mr. Z: “It's an ALL LA route. Commit to the ride (no fee just show up) and I'll dish the dirt.”
Well - I committed. And I got dished the dirt.
I’m confused, just ask my wife.
Simple. Absolutely nuttin to it. Uh huh. Yep. You betchya.
A predefined route, a loop, that may be ran clockwise, or counter-clockwise. Just over 60 miles. 17 laps must be completed. Start and finish are at a checkpoint in Sylmar, California. Loop runs entirely though the Los Angeles City Limits.
Each lap must be documented by the IBA witnesses at the checkpoint.
Bike odometer.
Bike tripset odometer.
GPS tripset odometer.
Must fill up at least every 300 miles maximum. (5 laps)
Fuel log must be maintained throughout the ride, as per IBA regulations.
Start and finish times defined by gas receipts.
THE MORNING OF:
5:00 am the alarm hoots, I slap it, and roll out of bed - quick shower, good breakfast. The night before I had made a bunch of PBJ sandwiches, cut them into pieces, into a gallon ziplock, and into my tank bag. Ditto for a bag of beef jerky. Geared up, fired up Wonky, headed north on the 57 to the 210, and pulled off on the Sunflower exit. Sat there for about 5 minutes, during which I was visited by a LEO - no words exchanged, but I guess he figured that my Hi-Viz stealth suit meant I wasn’t up to anything ‘suspicious.’
Dave showed up right at 07:00 as agreed, and we headed west on the 210 for Sylmar. Arrived just before 08:00, met up with Steve (down from Marysville, a short 500 miles), and headed into the Denny’s for the riders’ meeting and some breakfast.
Riders:
Ray Blair CA 11/18/06 Honda GL1800
Al Ladner CA 11/18/06 Yamaha FJR1300
Tom Melchild CA 11/18/06 Yamaha FJR1300
Hal Risser CA 11/18/06 Yamaha FJR1300
Bob Mueller CA 11/18/06 Suzuki DL1000
David L. Hicks CA 11/18/06 Yamaha FJR1300
Tom Sperry CA 11/18/06 BMW K1200LT
Rosie Sperry (passenger) 11/18/06 BMW K1200LT
Steve Fry CA 11/18/06 Yamaha FJR1300
Holley Harrison CA 11/18/06 Honda GL1800
George Zelenz CA 11/18/06 Yamaha FJR1300
Witnesses:
Frank Ziegler
Dave McQueeney
Mike Carter,
Dennis Cunningham,
Dean Tanji,
Sean Ward
My Thanks go out to these folks - they got to stand around in a gas station parking lot during odd hours.
And especially to Dave McQueeney, who acted as the official presence of the IBA.
GZ went over the rules and regs as set forth by Mr. Kneebone, Dave McQueeney explained and clarified things for us, we paid for breakfast, and headed out the door.
Start time is the first gas receipt. Dave, Steve and I rode together, so we geared up, headed for the pumps, and topped off our tanks.
Receipts numbered, fuel log updated, paperwork stowed.
THE DANCE BEGINS:
Counter Clockwise:
Roxford Onramp
5 S
405 S
10 E
110 N
101 N
170 N
5 N
118 N
210 W
5 S
Roxford Offramp to check point.
Roxford Onramp
5 S
405 S
10 E
110 N
101 N
170 N
5 N
118 N
210 W
5 S
Roxford Offramp to check point.
First lap: 56.03 mph. Traffic is building at this time, lots of Los Angeleans out on Saturday morning - heading to here, there, everywhere, - pushing, rushing, hurrying to get – and we were smack dab in the middle of it.
Clockwise:
Roxford Onramp
5 N
210 E
118 S
5 S
170 S
101 S
110 S
10 W
405 N
5 N
Roxford Offramp to check point.
Roxford Onramp
5 N
210 E
118 S
5 S
170 S
101 S
110 S
10 W
405 N
5 N
Roxford Offramp to check point.
Second lap: 49.48 mph. It’s getting worse out there. All those folks pushing on the first lap have resulted in some of them meeting along the way.
Third lap: 44.89 mph. This sucks.
Fourth: 44.96 mph. This is beyond sucking.
Fifth: 46.18 mph. And now it’s 3:36 PM.
And this is where the epiphany hits.
So - I think about the math – consider the options:
Sit out for a few hours and wait for traffic to clear? Hmmmm…….. nope. Won’t work. Tempting, but no.
Stop for dinner? Nope. Future traffic conditions are an unknown. Already very behind the curve, we have to put miles and time in the bank.
Quit?
I look at Dave - kicking butt, taking names.
Steve - rode 500 miles to do this with his friends. (And would ride home afterward to complete a BB in 30 hours.)
No ******* way will I quit. I will get this done. (Note to self: Hunt down George and …)
PBJ, H2O, Gatorade, beef jerky and Starbucks Mocha it is.
All day.
All night.
Urp.
uke: As the afternoon moved along, traffic simply did not improve. It was too many cars for too little pavement. Lap after lap, we ground it out, changing leads, flowing along, doing the process. One mile at a time, one lap at a time, one checkpoint at a time. And it was a very high-intensity day - you simply could not afford one little lapse in attention – riding in traffic like this requires absolute focus – or you end up meeting some one in a bad way. The checkpoints were a welcome respite – 5 minutes to drink some water, commune with nature, take a breath, perhaps relax just a bit.
And then do it again. Combat mode.
I won’t list all the lap times - slowest was 32.84 mph.
Things didn’t really start to ease up until lap nine – which we started just before 9:00 PM Saturday. Lap times decreased, mph increased, and it got a bit easier.
As night fell, traffic was running fairly well - however, now we were contending with crowds attending the Staples Arena, Universal Studios, Hollywood Bowl, so we would encounter ‘clusters’ of tight traffic, with smooth travel between.
We encountered those same folks leaving those venues, followed about a lap later by the work staff at same.
Lap after Lap.
Each different, and yet so alike.
Lap after Lap.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat..
Moving into late evening, we started to experience a very noticeable differential in temperatures on the route. Fog at the 10 and 405, cool temps on the 405 north, heavy winds in Sylmar.
And the smells. Somewhere on the 210, there is a commercial bakery. Wonderful. Riding along, you are engulfed in cinnamon rolls, fresh baked bread, perhaps Ho-Ho’s? (and here I am, living on PBJ!)
And the reverse is true also - somewhere on the western side of the loop, we could smell a treatment plant - I think it would be the Tillman Water Reclamation Plant in Van Nuys. You were engulfed in the odor of… ah… never mind.
Ah, Grasshopper, there’s the Yin and Yang of this adventure!! I wondered where it was.
There’s a surreal time in the early morning - the city is asleep, almost no traffic, and as you move south on the 170 and 101, you can see the skyline of downtown lit up like a postcard. You are riding along on this undulating black river of asphalt defined by reflective lines. The buildings use colored lights - problem was there just wasn’t any time to sit and stare.
It was a rare treat to have seen the city like this. It shows that the city is a dynamic, changing environment – and many of us only see it during certain times, and our perceptions are narrowed by that small increment of exposure.
By this time you’ve become comfortable with the pavement - grooves, mismatches, potholes - and you automatically compensate for them, picking the lane or part of a lane that is the smoothest, knowing exactly which line in which curve you need to be on. It becomes a waltz, the partners familiar with each other, moving in unison, in tempo.
We started lap 17 at 5:47 am Sunday. Dean Tanji told me, “You’ll get to watch the sunrise on this lap.” Heading east on the 210, the horizon was just starting to become visible – and as we flowed around the city on our last lap, the sunrise completed itself, the traffic was building, and the day was starting anew.
I gotta tell ya - turning onto the off ramp at the end of lap 17 was a really good feeling.
“Get to Gettin’
1, 2, 3,
While I’m countin’ to ten,
4, 5,
Get to Gettin’
6, 7, 8,
Baby this is the end
9, 10,
Get to Gettin’
I’m not countin’ ten again!”
Get to Gettin’, Nat King Cole, lyrics by Pete Rugolo
1, 2, 3,
While I’m countin’ to ten,
4, 5,
Get to Gettin’
6, 7, 8,
Baby this is the end
9, 10,
Get to Gettin’
I’m not countin’ ten again!”
Get to Gettin’, Nat King Cole, lyrics by Pete Rugolo
We filled our tanks for our finish times, completed our fuel logs and final checkpoint.
Finish fuel receipt time stamp: 6:42 AM, Sunday.
21 hours, 25 minutes elapsed time.
Dave McQueeney then verified all of our paperwork - all the receipts, logs, start and end witness forms, etc. This was by the book.
Thanks, Mr. McQueeney.
Rides validated, we were given our certificates.
And it was done. Completed. Over with. Finito.
It was hard. At least for this newbie it was. This was my second SS1K. And it was different.
I am now the proud owner of a really cool T-shirt. If any of you see someone wearing a LA1K Tshirt, go up and tell them they’re nuts. It will confirm the obvious.
We had breakfast, took a deep breath, and rode it home.
My thanks go out to the witnesses -
To Dave McQueeney for acting as the authority of the IBA -
And to George’s tortured, sick, horribly off-kilter sense of adventure. (Gee.. that's why we like him, eh?)
Rather than chew up bandwidth with lots of pics, here's a link to my photo album.
LA1K PICS
(Pictures provided by Dean Tanji, Steve Fry, Dave McQueeney)
If anyone reading this has pics of the event, by all means, send me a PM, and we'll get them into the gallery.
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