Seven Days, Seven States, 7 SaddleSores!

It’s 12:30am Tuesday morning as I nudge my wife Anavel in bed and say "Let’s get on the bike and go meet Carl". "Whaaa" is the reply as Anavel is burrowed down under the covers. I responded with a "Come on, the guy has been riding 10 days straight" "What about the baby?" she asks yawning. "We’ll take the sidecar. Let’s go". So off we head with our Harley sidecar in a night sky filled with dry lightning and head 25 miles south of Sandpoint to wait for Carl at the only stoplight in a town called Athol, Idaho. I had talked to Carl earlier in the evening on the phone when he stopped for fuel in Central Idaho and figured he would be getting close to our spot by the side of the road finishing up the final stretch of his 10/10 ride with the unique twist of riding 1,000 miles proper each day in a separate state.

My good riding friend Carl Stark hatched this 10/10 plan on a winter night’s phone call to me, one of about two per month to the Boge household. The 10/10 ride was a straightforward ride designed by the Iron Butt Association www.ironbutt.com that called for riding a total of 10,000 miles in 10 days. Our winter calls would start out by bitching about the long winter months in Wyoming and Idaho. The conversation would then turn to talk of bikes, rides, and the hopes of maybe getting a shot at the upcoming IBR in 2009. As winter wore on and started to loosen its firm grip on our part of the country and our denial into the IBR for ‘09 became a reality we decided to forgo additional rallying experience to move ahead with what we had always done, taking on IBA ride’s that we found common ground with and fit both our work schedules. Carl and I had the uncommon ability to get along on endless rides with a big dose of stress added in. While not identical riders in taste, the "problems" that we would take on in the form of IBA rides tended to show strengths in each of us that pulled the other guy along when he needed it. Carl, the mechanical one of this pair is the ultimate Interstate slogger. He flat can get on slab and go and go and go creating this vortex that all a guy has to do is tag along behind and get pulled into the "created" weather pattern of his Honda Gold Wing. Maybe it is something about coming from Wyoming and all those big open spaces. Iron Butt rides such as BBG’s, Double BBG’s and 10/10’s all fit into Carl’s thinking. Being more destination oriented I liked curves, destinations, heavy traffic and seeing new sights. I also could get halfway around on the computer which made up for my lack of mechanical ability. Carl’s winter idea of a 10/10 with the added challenge of putting in 1,000 miles per state per day perked my interest enough as it would involve a good dose of pre-planning along with really having to stick to a schedule in order to "Get er done".

Carl sent me a list of proposed states and a basic route. I worked on the route for most of a week and paired it down to as economic a plan as we could attain. Basically our plan was to bag a state a day with the required 1,000 miles minimum mileage and then move into the next state as quickly as possible to sack out in a motel and get ready for the next day. I sent the revised list back to Carl. He agreed with the changes and proceeded to make reservations for each night at our nightly destinations. We each also made packets up of the documents we would need for witnesses along with zip tie baggies to secure documents and precious receipts when we were finished for each day. The states we decided on were Wyoming, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada and Idaho. We also decided we could run it either way starting in Wyoming, in Sheridan where Carl resided or in Sandpoint, Idaho where I lived. Why Carl decided on those states instead of others I don’t really know. Being of the male variety we really aren’t supposed to ask deep questions. We either say "yes" or "no". End of discussion.

June rolled around and we decided to leave from Wyoming. On June 20^th I made the 690 mile jog to Carl’s house in Sheridan. It worked out to be a good shake down cruise. My bike, a 2006 BMW R1200RT ran well and I made good time arriving around 8:30pm. We "chewed the fat" for about an hour and decided to get some shut eye.

Day One / State One – Wyoming: After having learned hard lessons from previous rides Carl and I knew that a plan is what makes attaining goals happen. Shooting off on a ride in a direction with no plan only causes grief and failure. As an old boss used to say, "Make your plan; work your plan". As we had our plan worked out for each day our job was to "clock in" at the gas pump for "work" on the appropriate state and start riding. Each day was considered a new problem and our job was to solve it. As part of our pre-plan I mapped out gas stops, corner stops and plugged in the times that we were to be there on a paper map and in our GPS’s. Our plan was made realistic. To not do so would only cause frustration and added stress. The ride each day was to be attainable with the idea of finishing in good order and safely to set us up for the next day’s problem. This is how we started in Wyoming and would continue each day. For Wyoming it was a 5am start time in Sheridan with stops in Casper, Rawlins, Jamestown, Cheyenne, Douglas and a return to Sheridan by 7:35pm. That first day in Wyoming was as well planned a ride as I have ever had. 1,002 miles. In the past it would have been a major 23 hour struggle. As Carl was on a Gold Wing we even took time for the requisite DQ banana split as we headed to downtown Sheridan afterwards where Carl’s wife Jonnie was finishing up her own weekend ride participating in a women’s annual motorcycle ride. We were off to a good start riding 1,002 documented miles in Wyoming in 14 hours and 16 minutes. Our 10/10 mileage sat at 1,007 miles.

Day Two / State Two – Montana: We left Carl’s house at 5am and headed off to Montana. Pulling off an in-state ride each day was one thing, getting to the state each day would be the tough logistic part that would keep the ride very interesting as we tried to attain our goal of a 10/10 but still providing documentation that a proper 1,000 miles would be ridden in each state.

We started off at 5:52am obtaining fuel on the Crow Reservation at Lodge Grass, Montana. Carl had scoped out this fuel stop earlier in the month to make sure they had a receipt. While they had a receipt it gave us the wrong time – one hour earlier than it was. From Lodge Grass we rode up I-90 until Billings heading West until Belgrade where we fueled up. Receipt with no time! (Editor: reminder we only care about time on start and end receipts - no sweat once the ride is in play) We got the clerk to sign the back and continued on. We traveled to Missoula where we fueled and planned to turn around. Bad receipt again. No time was listed on it. Jeez! We stopped at the local McDonalds while there for a sandwich and a receipt with a good time, date and where we were. I was feeling a bit frustrated as were batting 1000 on incomplete receipts. We headed the bikes east fueling in Columbus, Montana and to my relief a sound receipt. We continued on stopping at one point for five minutes near Miles City as I was hit by a bee which stung my face.

We continued on to just before the state line in North Dakota to the plains town of Wibaux, Montana just off of I-94. Wibaux’s claim to fame according to legend was Teddy

Roosevelt acquiring the nickname of "Old Four Eyes" after a drunken sheep rancher in the bar said "four eyes is buying." While filling our bikes we didn’t run into any drunken sheep ranchers but did find the mosquitoes were out in force and so was the Sheriff, Bill Hecker who was kind enough to sign off as our finish witness in Montana. The time was 8:15pm. We rode 1,007 documented miles in Montana 14 hours 23 minutes. While we spent most of the day just trying to stay on schedule we finished up ahead by an hour which was easily spent making our way to Beach, North Dakota, getting our room and finding something to eat. 10/10 total miles today stood at 2,057.

Day Three / State Three – North Dakota: We left the Flying J at Beach, North Dakota at 5am. Every Flying J we stopped at on this ride had no timed receipts and added to the frustration on trying to obtain the proper documentation. We solved it eventually by not stopping at a Flying J no matter how conveniently they were located. We headed east on I-94 through a minor but wicked looking rain storm, stopped in Valley City to fuel up with North Dakota’s most friendly residents. The usual, "Where are we going"? "What are we doing?" "Why do you wear a space man outfit?" For a moment I thought we would have to purchase fly swatters to shoo off residents. I do always enjoy the genuine hospitality of the West and what its people have to offer. Only the folks at Mentone, Indiana during the 07 IBR would match their art of hospitality in Valley City, North Dakota. In fact the whole state is one friendly place.

At Fargo we turned north on I-29 towards the town of Pembina which is located just shy of the Canadian border. This is as far North as we would travel on our trip. After receiving our receipts, placing calls to solve a work and possible family problem at home we re-mounted and headed South and East to where we stopped and re-figured the original route to instead take us to Dickinson. Our ride ended at the farming town of Hettinger to receive our final gas receipt and witness in North Dakota. With farm kids hanging out at the local station we picked up fuel and got our receipt. We logged 1,016 miles in North Dakota with a total time of 15 hours and 51 minutes. Before heading to bed we made our way another 24 miles to Lemmon, South Dakota to be in position for Day Four. Today’s 10/10 miles - 3,076.

Day Four / State Four – South Dakota: Our start time was planned for 5am and we were promptly at the pumps filling up at 5:05am. Today we would work our way south out of Lemmon through the beautiful country around Sturgis and on to Rapid City for our first fuel stop and our normal morning routine of a Red Bull and a hot dog while filling up the bikes. I swear there is nothing better after putting on 200 miles in the morning than a hot dog heavily awash in mustard being downed by an ice cold Red Bull. It makes my mouth water just thinking about it and only when I am doing long distance rides do I enjoy that combination.

We slogged out the miles today heading East on I-90 to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, turning North to pick up the 19 additional miles in Dell Rapids. We then headed back South and West to Rapid City where we turned south on Highway 79 towards the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation where the community of Wounded Knee is. We picked up our final receipt in Pine Ridge, South Dakota at 8:44pm in the evening. Steven Rattler who lived on the reservation and worked at Big Bat’s Shell Station obliged us by signing off on our witness forms. We proceeded off to cross the state line into Nebraska and Rushville where we would stage for the next day’s ride. We were slowing up on our pace of the first two days with a ride time of 15 hours and 39 minutes but posted speeds were slower in the Dakotas. My documented miles in South Dakota were 1,014. Total miles for the 10/10 on Day Four were 4,118 miles.

Day Five / State Five – Nebraska: Same story. Different day. Different state. We had been lucky with good weather and no mechanical problems and left from Rushville by nine minutes after 5am. We made our way West to Chadron, Nebraska, picked up a receipt at a donut shop where the local retired guys were hanging out drinking coffee and headed south to Sidney, Nebraska, home of the original Cabella’s Sport Shop where we stopped for a breakfast sandwich at McDonalds, picked up our needed receipt and headed West to the City of Kimbell. While fueling up in Kimbell we spoke to "Larry" who was on a Harley headed west. Larry was from North Carolina, a fabricator, and took the opportunity to head out and see some new country.

We left Kimball, Western Nebraska and Larry, pointed East on I-80 and started to throw down some serious miles. At the eastern side of Nebraska we left I-80 and continued East on Highway 2 and then South to Highway 73 and Auburn, Nebraska to fuel up our bikes in the hot afternoon humidity. We drank some cool liquid, took stock of our situation and turned it around to retrace our steps back to I-80. One of our fuel stops was in Kearney which happened to be at the same station that I gassed up on during my 10^th day on the Iron Butt Rally. By that point in the IBR rally I was pretty sacked out and still needed to put in a full night of riding to get back to St. Louis in time. I did make it to St. Louis but it was truly a long night.

Jumping back on the Interstate now we continued West on I-80 until we got to the Big Springs Truck and Travel stop where our witness, a chatterbox named Angela Diaz signed off on our witness form. Angela was nice enough but I found I was getting a bit tired and needed to find where we were staying for the night. At this point I was glad Carl had suggested making reservations in advance as it paid off in not having to ride around looking for a place to stay. This night though it did not pay off as we rode on into Julesburg, Colorado and to the hotel. Hotel? More like a crack house. We didn’t even see the office to register. I figure Carl will sleep most anywhere but even he said we should look elsewhere. We took off and caught a room back near the truck stop by the Interstate. They had plenty of post cards in their office which caught my interest as I was making a point to buy a postcard of each state visited to send off to my daughter Laura at home in Idaho. Total mileage for Day Five in Nebraska sat at 1,007. It took us 16 hours and seven minutes. We were slowing down and inching in on our sleep time. I could feel myself getting more tired. My total 10/10 mileage for Day Five sat at 5,148 miles.

Day Six / State Six – Colorado: Sitting at the gas pump a bit after 5am watching Carl "futz" with the pump to get it to work right I was thinking how I was excited to ride Colorado today and get off the damn straight roads. We got on the road 20 minutes late and headed southwest for two plus hours towards Denver and promptly lost each other in traffic. It was just before 8am with morning rush hour and I continued on making the bend onto I-25 North before stopping in Thornton to pick a receipt and place a call to Carl. I left him a message saying I would stay on route with the hopes of us finding each other down the road. Worst case scenario I knew we would see each other tonight as we had a room reservation. I spotted Carl most of an hour later as we both got to the "Kum & Go" in Wellington at about the same time. After fueling I placed two work calls that were needed and headed back south to then turn west and take the 200 plus miles of curvy Interstate of I-70 in the cool mountain air to Loma, Colorado close to the Utah border. I struggled at times today as each day was starting to become a grind along with a lot of stop and go road construction on the Interstate. Carl and I had experienced this same "multi day" struggle on our 48 Plus ride the previous year on trying to stay on schedule. At times like this I am glad we made our route realistic with a realistic time frame. If there is one thing I have learned with long distance riding it is being aware of my body clock and the times of day I am in. 11pm to midnight I need to call it a day and get a minimum of four hours sleep. Three hours will work, five is great, but less than three hours I had better be at the end as I will have nothing for tomorrow. Mental high points for me are between 8 and 10am. I hit a big low around 5 to 6pm. All this knowledge has been attained by sitting in the saddle countless hours and really taking apart my mental frame of mind. I have been able to use it to my advantage in other areas of my life. As an example when I have a meeting at 5:30pm I had better be looking for a "kick in the ass" from something to jump start me through that lull. Even with the curvy roads today was a grind. We kept plugging away returning on I-70 until we got to Castle Rock and headed South once again in the evening cool ending up in Trinidad, Colorado just north of New Mexico. The stopping place for fuel had a good receipt but the clerk refused to open the locked door to verify we were there. I probably wouldn’t have either if two guys on motorcycles roared up and asked me to come out and check their odometers! We instead headed over to the local Burger King where we ran into a great group of workers running the store. They couldn’t leave the store but our witness Frank Vigil figured he could lean out the drive thru window to check our mileage.

After getting fed with a couple of BK sandwiches we left Colorado and headed to Raton, New Mexico to call it a night. The Motel 6 we stayed in had no air conditioning. No problem for me as I am always cold. For Carl though he likes it cool and we left the door open so at least we could get some breeze in the door. I woke up about an hour later to a mom and two kids walking past the open door. The mother’s young son said, "Is this the room Mom?" walking into our room. That mother snatched that kid so fast out of our room it was something only a mother could pull off. I got a good chuckle out of it as I headed back to sleep as here is Carl sacked out next to the door in his jockey shorts. Overall time on the road for Colorado today ended up at 16 hours and 12 minutes. We rode 1,010 miles today. Total miles for our 10/10 at Day Six was sitting at 6,175 miles.

Day Seven / State Seven – New Mexico: We got out of Raton, New Mexico a bit late but quickly made up time while we worked our way to Albuquerque. I have not spent much time in New Mexico so was excited to be spending the day here. The air was on the cool side and I fully expected it to be very hot but with the cloud cover overhead it was just about perfect conditions. Today though would be a real "crux" day as I needed to get my tire changed over. On our 48 Plus ride the previous year I spent way too much time, energy and frustration first trying to find a tire and then trying to get it changed during the ride. That journey I was also with Carl. While I found the place to change the tire he went on ahead towards Alaska and it took me a day and a half to catch up to him, 1,800 miles north of Las Vegas in Cache Creek, British Columbia. Only by pure luck I pulled in for gas at a Husky Station after 11pm, dog tired and done for the day and here Carl was sitting at the pump on the Gold Wing. I would have loved to have had a photo of his expression as I pulled up. Today would not be the same case though as I learned from my previous experience and had called ahead to Sandia BMW in Albuquerque. The tire had been ordered and an approximate time was set (4pm) for our arrival. Our first gas stop was in Albuquerque which after filling up we then headed due west on Interstate 40 to Gallup to refuel again and pick up the needed receipt. We turned around, retraced our steps and avoided a major speed trap that the state patrol set up. It was very curious as the state trooper was well off the road and on top of a sandy hill with a laser gun. The trooper wasn’t anywhere close to the Interstate. The truckers were all over it on the C.B. and we had our halos on when we passed through. We continued on through Albuquerque the second time and headed east on I-40 until we got to Clines Corner, fueled again and headed back to Albuquerque a third time stopping at Sandia BMW. By the time we arrived at the BMW shop which was set against I-40 we had gained an hour on our schedule even though we left this morning 40 minutes late. Good fortune was to continue as John Jordan, the service manager took the RT immediately in and had the new tire mounted in 34 minutes. Incredible! I had planned for an hour and a half for the tire change and we picked up an extra hour with Sandia’s superior service. I cannot speak highly enough about this shop and the service I received. I didn’t even have time to check out their new models!

To the south we headed on I-25, avoiding all rush hour traffic and needed only another 400 plus miles to finish off the day. With a 30 minute gas stop that included a sit down quick bite of pizza in the all Spanish speaking Vado, New Mexico we headed West on I-10 to Lordsburg, New Mexico where we finished our ride and checked into our room by a surely clerk who complained that the only thing to do in Lordsburg is drink. I must mention though that our 100 plus mile ride across I-10 was spectacular as the thunder clouds had been building all afternoon and it looked like we were in for a wet ride. Except for a few drops it was only a lot of side wind and dust being kicked up. The sunset was absolutely gorgeous with all the colors from the dust. Day Seven summed up with 1,004 miles in 16 hours and 16 minutes. 10/10 mileage summed up as 7,204 miles.

Day Eight / State Eight – Arizona This day was to be a bit difficult to start as we had slept overnight in New Mexico instead of riding into the next state as we had previously done the night’s before. Carl and I both previously decided that with the tire change and the possible delay at the BMW shop we might be better off staying in New Mexico and getting a good night’s sleep than to push on into Arizona. Carl had also previously posted to the ld rider list looking for information on a gas stop when entering Arizona. The best he could come up with was Wilcox, Arizona which was approximately 75 miles from Lordsburg, New Mexico. On leaving Lordsburg we fully felt we would have to slog it, the full 75 miles to Wilcox before starting our day. We were able to cut that amount when we came upon San Simon and its "beautiful" truck stop along I-10. I say beautiful as it cut in half our distance on traveling to Wilcox and picking up our first receipt of the day. People that work all night have a certain attitude and I have to say I like it as I had to work over 23 years in the nighttime hours. Our gas clerk and starting witness, Bernice Nunez at San Simon was sassy, fun and got our day off to a good start. She had always worked night shifts and accepted this plight with grace. We continued along in the morning hours and through the construction zone in Tucson, fueling north in Picacho, not finding our normal breakfast of a hot dog and Red Bull. We continued on to Yuma, Arizona which would make a corner up of the ride and turned north to head to Quartzsite, Arizona 73 miles away. Though it was only 10:30am it was hot and we both were looking for water to keep us hydrated throughout the day. In our search we left Yuma and forgot to pick up our receipts for fuel. Luckily we had only left town for most of two plus miles, turned around and got the receipt we needed to continue on. After that Carl and I discussed that as it was Day Eight and we were prone to more mistakes. As we were past our halfway mark it reminded me of alpine climbing where most accidents happen on the way down from the summit. Though you have made it to the top you are only halfway and need to get your mind in the right order to get back down in good shape. Too often after the summit a person "let’s down" and makes crucial mistakes. Our ride reminded me of this. We were over halfway and could see the end coming in sight. I was excited but reminded myself that I needed to stay focused for it to happen. Mistakes we made in previous days were minimal and it wasn’t affecting our performance today. We needed to keep it that way by double checking our receipts, route, lane changes and riding habits.

Quartzite, another corner in our ride, was even hotter. As I stopped I went inside and bought a gallon of water, came outside and asked a gal pumping fuel if she would pour the water down my back. She did and it felt great as I put my Darian jacket back on, turning it into a swamp cooler as were riding East towards Phoenix and the 115 degree temps that were to await us. I signaled to Carl to stop at my favorite burger place, "In & Out" for a receipt. While there we grabbed a burger, fries and cold drink and headed North to higher elevations in Flagstaff where the temps were a pleasant relief.

We had 703 miles at this point and started to head east towards our turn around point at Joseph, Arizona 79 miles away. Between 600 and 800 miles each day can really be tough mentally but at this point I was feeling like we were going to pull off our 10/10 ride. Approaching Joseph, Arizona east of Winslow, Arizona I had felt a very slight vibration coming from my right foot peg. When we stopped for fuel I mentioned it to Carl and asked if he would help me check my drive line to see if I had a problem going on. We put the bike on the stand and Carl got down on his hands and knees twisting, pulling and visually inspecting the drive line. "Michael I think everything is fine and we’re just a bit tired after eight days". I agreed. Everything looked fine to me. Relieved we got on and started west towards Bull Head City to finish off our Arizona portion. We were riding straight into the sun and it didn’t really matter as we only had 225 more miles and I could just feel that motel room bed.

"Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans". If a quote ever applied it was this one now as I felt a sudden jolt and my rear tire lock up. Just as soon as it locked it rotated again though I was tossed from the passing lane to the right side without my consultation. I held on with a death grip, jumped on the front brake and got over to the right hand side of the road and got the bike to a stop. In the midst of it all I was able to radio to Carl that I had a "problem". Carl turned around and came back. I was off the bike at that time and knew what the problem was. Oil, smoke and parts cracked open confirmed my previous thoughts of a driveline problem. I hate to write this as it brings back that sinking feeling that all your hard work was in vain, let alone that I was stuck in the middle of nowhere. Saying "shit" a dozen times didn’t help and I just stood there looking at the bike and stomping around on the side of the Interstate. I didn’t remember what Carl said right then but we did decide to see if the bike could be ridden back to the last exit, Exit 269 that was about ½ mile away to the East. I was able to get the RT back across the median and to the other side of the Interstate. The wheel wobbled back and forth and I kept it to a walking pace. I took the exit and ended up in front of the "Jack Rabbit", an obscurely located tourist trap from the past that was not on the main road anymore. I told Carl to go on to the city of Bull Head. He said he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do that he first wanted to make sure I was going to be alright. I walked inside the building and the clerk came out from behind. "We wondered what all that racket was?" She was referring to the BMW’s still smoking rear end out in her parking lot. I explained my situation. She said I was welcome to use her phone book and stay but she was going to close up in 20 minutes at 8pm. I thanked her, called the nearest tow company in Flagstaff, 70 miles west of where I was. The tow company wanted all the information possible before they dragged one of their drivers out there on a Saturday night. I gave it to him and extracted a promise from them that they would be out in the next two hours. I thanked the clerk, who also was the owner and headed back out to Carl. I told him I had a tow and we just sat on the pole fence nearby discussing what the heck just transpired. I wasn’t sure what Carl was going to do. The sun was getting low and we had already put in a long hard day before this happened. I mentioned that he needed to get going. He said he wanted to complete the ride and I fully supported his decision. Climbing off the fence to go a car pulled up and three women got out of the car. The one asked us if we would get a photo of her and her friends on the cement Jackrabbit that stood about eight feet high outside of the Jackrabbit stand. I told I would be happy to but first she would have to get a photo of Carl and me on it.

She obliged. Carl and I got on and she took the shot. We took photos of her and her friends and everyone left including Carl solo, heading west towards Bull Head City. I got back on the fence in the silence of the high desert, felt the sun’s warmth disappear on my back as it set and looked at "ol Smokey" sitting in front of the Jackrabbit.

An hour and a half later I hear the sound of a truck coming down the road and look to see a one ton flat bed truck. Must be my ride? The driver turned in and we exchanged greetings. He figured the flat bed was the best bet and I agreed. He lowered it and we both pushed to get the rear wheel of the RT to turn. It finally did so I took it up for a final ride up the back of the flat bed. I had no idea what I was going to do besides getting the bike to Phoenix and to a local dealer (Victory BMW) that had given me good service in the past. I figured the driver could drop me off at the Phoenix airport where I could camp out until I could get a flight home. Being Saturday night he asked me if the dealership knew I was coming. I told him "No". "Are they open Sunday?" "No" was my reply again. "When do they open then?" he said. "Probably Tuesday" I countered. We small talked a bit more and then he asked me if I was worried someone would take the bike if I left it sitting outside the shop in Chandler. "I really don’t care what happens to the bike". I could feel the anger settling in about what had just transpired. I kept telling myself it was no big deal, it could have happened last year during the Iron Butt Rally when I would have blown a mental fuse and blown the bike up on the spot. As we pressed on to Flagstaff it was after 11pm and I could tell that my driver wasn’t really excited about being up all night to get my bike to Phoenix around 3am, to then turn around and drive the 175 miles back to Flagstaff. He offered to take the bike in on Tuesday when the shop was open. I told him I really appreciated it but to be quite honest if we made the drive tonight it would solve my ride problem from Flagstaff to the Phoenix airport. He agreed. We talked more and I could see this guy was one hard working SOB. He obviously worked untold hours for his boss, tried changing jobs to start a new life with his new wife and couldn’t make it in Western Montana. I told him job options were much better here than in Montana. He agreed as they made the move back to Flagstaff and his boss was level headed enough to give him another crack at his old job. He placed a call to his wife and asked if she would give me a ride to Phoenix tomorrow. She agreed as long as she could get back in time for church. He asked if I would be up for that. "No problem with that". He said he would take the bike on Tuesday instead to Phoenix. I told him to tell his wife that I would first need to make a airline reservation once I got to a motel in Flagstaff.

We got to Flagstaff just after midnight. I was able to get a room and then a duffel bag from WalMart across the street. I pulled out my laptop, got on to the WiFi and promptly got a flight with Southwest Airlines from Phoenix to Spokane. I called the tow truck operator’s wife back and told her my flight was at 8:30am. "Would she be able to get to church on time?" She said "Yes" and to be ready at 4am as she would pick me up then. She could make church and I could make my flight. I was sick from the day, being too tired with no food and way too much stress to add to it. My gut just turned from side to side. I took a shower, sucked on a Coke that was in the lobby and headed to bed for two hours sleep. By 4am I was outside, duffle bags in hand waiting for my ride. The cops stopped and gave me the royal quiz on what I was doing. Something about being in those Darian jackets! He really was perplexed when I could not give a last name to the gal who was going to drive me 175 miles to Phoenix. Finally his radio crackled and he moved on to more exciting items while my ride showed up five minutes later.

My ride was in an old Jeep Cherokee that was on its last legs. Peg had her son accompany her, a young 17 year old that was into working out. A nice enough kid I told them to fill up the car at my expense and get what ever they would like to chew on for the ride to Phoenix. Having driven countless nights and early morning hours I am keenly aware of the major problem of falling asleep. I had only two hours sleep. Peg had only 40 minutes of sleep and the kid had stayed up all night to wake up the mom. We were a sorry lot. I decided that I needed to be a chatterbox to keep our driver awake but that wasn’t hard as she told me her life’s story all the way to Phoenix. Her Jeep Cherokee had been bought for $100 and had held up pretty well. A neighbor had bet her and her son that they wouldn’t make it back to Phoenix without a breakdown. I was glad it was all downhill to Phoenix and while Peg was going to go to church at 10am I was already praying that we would just make it there and these kind folks would make it back in a working vehicle. I got to the Phoenix airport an hour before flight time and gave Peg $100 for her kindness. She refused but I insisted. By 1pm I was back in Spokane and picking up a rental car to take me back to Sandpoint an hour and a half away. Never mind about all the stares and wide berths people gave me for wearing the only clothes I had, my "stich". In fact I had to chuckle as I had the only empty seats next to me on the full flight back. No one wanted to get close to the "crazy man". On the flight I caught up on the news in the papers along with looking out the window and hoping Carl was off to a good ride today. My mileage to the point of breaking down was 782 miles. It had taken 12 hours and 34 minutes up until that point. My BMW was broken but more sad was the fact my 10/10 ride was broken also. Up until that point I had 8,013 miles.

Three Days Later - My wife Anavel, daughter Laura and I sat alongside Highway 95 three days later looking south for Carl Stark and the yellow driving lights his Gold Wing sported. It was after 1am and Anavel said she was glad that she got up to see Carl make it in after 10 days. Three year old Laura didn’t care as she was sacked out in the sidecar. Something about the drone of those Harley twins. Far down the road I could see those lights. Anavel asked how I knew. I told her I spent far too many days riding with Carl to not be able to recognize those yellow lights. Carl spotted us and pulled over. I’ve seen him look better but after 10 days and 10,000 plus miles he was looking pretty normal. We continued on to Sandpoint and I was very proud of him to have accomplished this goal we set out to do. We got to the Exxon station in my hometown of Sandpoint, Idaho, Carl picked up a good receipt and we then took the whole party over to our house. We chit chatted a bit and Carl explained how he continued riding the toilet bowl down the last two days getting off to a later and later start each day, the last day because of an alarm not set right and room service not calling. An 8am wakeup call was not the way to start a riding day but we both decided that the extra sleep was a good thing also.

As for my ride it was sorely disappointing that I was not able to finish. It is part of life and part of what makes IBA certificates so sweet when you are able to accomplish them. The reality was when the bike’s rear end bound up I could have crashed and gotten hurt. The bike could have broken during the IBR in 2007 and not have allowed me to finish. When things don’t go as planned I tend to make sense of it by knowing that it could have been worse. As it was I was able to turn in seven Saddlesore rides. It wasn’t a 10/10 but that will happen another time.

As with every riding adventure the re-entry back into life is fast and furious. E-mails to answer, messages to reply to and multiple telephone calls to get a person back up to speed on what my life has become. I talked to Carl a week or so later and we both decided that as brutal as the rides can become there is a basic simplicity that shows itself. You get up in the morning with the simple goal of riding 1,000 miles today. You eat standing next to the bike. Simple food choices never tasted so good and a hot dog is as good as any steak Kansas can produce. You listen to the radio, have great conversations over the C.B. or maybe ride along in silence for four or five hours. I see places I have never seen. I also process during those times and make sense of my life. Some of my greatest problem solving sessions have been sitting in the saddle of my motorcycle, tackling issues that I haven’t overcome. Answers always come and it is so simple. During this ride I came to the conclusion to give up on my radio job. I loved doing it but I had been working it for 12 years of Sundays. The passion had worn off and I was ready to close that chapter in my life. It also gave me 52 more days per year to do other things that have been banging louder at my door. 52 days! What a gift to give yourself. I got home and promptly gave notice. As they say, "You never see a motorcycle in front of a psychiatrist’s office". I love it. Where do we go next?

Michael Boge