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Friday
Ogden, UT to Seattle, WA
850 miles
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I have no
intention or need to ride all the way to Seattle today but the
thought of seeing how far I can get comfortably and safely is
intriguing. Joe and I are fans of the
Iron Butt crowd, people who
enjoy riding 1,000 miles a day for fun and call themselves the
"World's Toughest Motorcycle Riders". I'm in no position to
disagree. I've been following their guidelines for distance riding
for years and they do know their stuff. (See
Archive of
Wisdom.) I'm rested, my
mind is clear, the weather is clear and warm, the tires are properly
inflated, there is nothing but Interstate ahead and I'm riding a
Gold Wing with cruise control and a six CD changer filled with rock
and roll in the trunk. The conditions are optimal. I leave Odgen at
7 AM.
Hour after hour, I cruise. Deep
Purple, B-52s, Lord Of The Rings soundtracks, and then NPR on the FM
radio as I pass through urban areas. I cross Idaho and then Oregon
and by the time I reach Yakima, Washington, night has fallen. It's
Friday night and people are out enjoying the Summer evening. I'm 180
miles from Seattle and I check in with Inga. My butt's tender but
the Wing and I are in the groove. We're going to press on. We ascend
the Cascades on I-90 and we sail over 3,000 ft. Snoqualmie Pass in
the dark. The heated grips and vest are on to push back the chill in
the air and Steely Dan is playing on the stereo. I'm filled with
elation. It's been an amazing seven days and I've achieved what the
doctor ordered. I roll into my driveway at 10:30 PM.
So could I have ridden 1,000 miles in
24 hours to earn a "Saddle Sore" award from the Iron Butt
Association if I had more miles to go? I think so. Stopping for a
salad for dinner and a bit of a rest would probably have tuned me up
enough to polish off the last 150 miles. But not today. I'm home, my
own bed calls, and I'm satisfied with my accomplishment. The Saddle
Sore will have to wait for another ride. -- Scott Bruce Duncan */:-) |
