You know the old bromide - "If there aren't any photos, it didn't happen."
As I've indicated in some other postings, I just finished a nice ride to Florida. First, the youngest granddaughter graduated from high school in Orlando. As I usually do when I go to my son's home in Orlando, I ride down to Miami to see an old college buddy, who is (unfortunately) incarcerated in Miami.
Time was important this trip, so rather than take my usual back roads, I rode the slab. Yuck - I reinforced why I don't like to ride the slab. Its boring, and I miss all those little small towns and their homey restaurants. The slab is okay in the cage, but not on a bike.
I'd thought for some time that I'd like to do a Saddle Sore 1000, just to say I did it. This trip would be ideal for such an attempt. I plotted that with just one small modification at the end of the run, I would have 1,014 miles under my belt if I followed the route Google Maps created for me. I planned to leave Marianna, Florida, and end the ride at a shopping center near home. I plotted it all out - best places to stop for fuel (truck stops seemed best) and places to eat, with snacks and fluids in the tank bag. I had it planned out to the nines.
But, the weather had a say in the game. At 9 am on Tuesday, May 28, a strong front was moving in towards Marianna. I asked the motel front desk to stay another night, then napped and checked the weather during the day. By evening, the weather was past me (and there was a lot of lightening as it passed), so I packed up, ate a good meal, and conned a fellow diner into signing the witness form. I filled up the tank, and the receipt gave me a starting time of 8:23 pm.
Each time I stopped for gas, I whipped out the phone and checked the weather - and sure enough, another round of nasty weather was heading towards Houston. In the meantime, I just cruised Interstate 10, enjoying the new LED lights I'd put on during the winter. When I stopped for gas in Orange, TX, right across the state line from Louisiana, a kind gentleman told me to find shelter as the weather was upon us. I watched the lightening show from the inside of a Waffle House. The breakfast stop morphed into an hour and a half wait, but once the lightening let up, I went back to the road, riding in light to moderate rain. Lightening again sent me inside in Baytown, a Houston suburb. Again, an hour delay, but once the lightening was past me, and a check of the Texas DOT road conditions site revealed that the Interstate highways in Houston were open, I was back on the road. Once south of Houston, the rain let up and I was back in familiar hot and muggy South Texas.
And, I made it to the final gas station right near 4pm. In other words, despite the weather delays, I made the 24 hour time limit with ease. I was surprised at that, despite all the advice on this forum that I only needed to maintain a 47 mph speed. The wifemate fed me a meal, I took a much needed shower, then I merged with my mattress for 10 1/2 hours.
Now comes the hard part.
I unpacked my top case, looking for the clear plastic envelope I'd kept my plans and log and witness forms in. Couldn't find it. Panicked. Called the last gas station - they didn't have it. Tossed the house upside down. I really don't know what happened to it, but somewhere along the line since the next to last gas station, that sucker slipped out of my top case.
Hence the title of this post - as far as the IBA is concerned, my ride didn't happen. I have the gas receipts as I kept those in my wallet, and I have the mileage written on each receipt- something I do to track my miles per gallon, and I do that all the time. But, I have no log and I have no start witness signature.
I'm fairly bummed right now. Yes, I could do the ride again, but not sure I want to at this juncture.
The other side of the coin is that I am alive and in good health. If not having a distinctive license plate bracket for my bike is my most serious problem, I'm in pretty good shape.
As I've indicated in some other postings, I just finished a nice ride to Florida. First, the youngest granddaughter graduated from high school in Orlando. As I usually do when I go to my son's home in Orlando, I ride down to Miami to see an old college buddy, who is (unfortunately) incarcerated in Miami.
Time was important this trip, so rather than take my usual back roads, I rode the slab. Yuck - I reinforced why I don't like to ride the slab. Its boring, and I miss all those little small towns and their homey restaurants. The slab is okay in the cage, but not on a bike.
I'd thought for some time that I'd like to do a Saddle Sore 1000, just to say I did it. This trip would be ideal for such an attempt. I plotted that with just one small modification at the end of the run, I would have 1,014 miles under my belt if I followed the route Google Maps created for me. I planned to leave Marianna, Florida, and end the ride at a shopping center near home. I plotted it all out - best places to stop for fuel (truck stops seemed best) and places to eat, with snacks and fluids in the tank bag. I had it planned out to the nines.
But, the weather had a say in the game. At 9 am on Tuesday, May 28, a strong front was moving in towards Marianna. I asked the motel front desk to stay another night, then napped and checked the weather during the day. By evening, the weather was past me (and there was a lot of lightening as it passed), so I packed up, ate a good meal, and conned a fellow diner into signing the witness form. I filled up the tank, and the receipt gave me a starting time of 8:23 pm.
Each time I stopped for gas, I whipped out the phone and checked the weather - and sure enough, another round of nasty weather was heading towards Houston. In the meantime, I just cruised Interstate 10, enjoying the new LED lights I'd put on during the winter. When I stopped for gas in Orange, TX, right across the state line from Louisiana, a kind gentleman told me to find shelter as the weather was upon us. I watched the lightening show from the inside of a Waffle House. The breakfast stop morphed into an hour and a half wait, but once the lightening let up, I went back to the road, riding in light to moderate rain. Lightening again sent me inside in Baytown, a Houston suburb. Again, an hour delay, but once the lightening was past me, and a check of the Texas DOT road conditions site revealed that the Interstate highways in Houston were open, I was back on the road. Once south of Houston, the rain let up and I was back in familiar hot and muggy South Texas.
And, I made it to the final gas station right near 4pm. In other words, despite the weather delays, I made the 24 hour time limit with ease. I was surprised at that, despite all the advice on this forum that I only needed to maintain a 47 mph speed. The wifemate fed me a meal, I took a much needed shower, then I merged with my mattress for 10 1/2 hours.
Now comes the hard part.
I unpacked my top case, looking for the clear plastic envelope I'd kept my plans and log and witness forms in. Couldn't find it. Panicked. Called the last gas station - they didn't have it. Tossed the house upside down. I really don't know what happened to it, but somewhere along the line since the next to last gas station, that sucker slipped out of my top case.
Hence the title of this post - as far as the IBA is concerned, my ride didn't happen. I have the gas receipts as I kept those in my wallet, and I have the mileage written on each receipt- something I do to track my miles per gallon, and I do that all the time. But, I have no log and I have no start witness signature.
I'm fairly bummed right now. Yes, I could do the ride again, but not sure I want to at this juncture.
The other side of the coin is that I am alive and in good health. If not having a distinctive license plate bracket for my bike is my most serious problem, I'm in pretty good shape.
