Iron Butt (Continued)
by: goon73

I back tracked a couple miles to my official turn around point and filled up with gas and got the receipt. As I got back on the highway I realized that traffic in El Paso was much worse than I had anticipated. It felt like forever in the rush hour traffic, but after fighting it for 20 minutes or so I was past the 20 mph area and back out on the open road. Again the miles were adding up and my plan for a rest stop after completing the 1000 mile mark in Fort Stockton seemed like an excellent idea.

As dark caught me riding across the Texas desert I began to wonder what kind of lovely critters were lurking just out of the beam of my headlight conspiring to jump out in front of me. I entertained the thought of just continuing the ride on to Junction or further to make the follow-up days ride shorter, but as the night wore on Fort Stockton looked better and better. When I finally arrived in Fort Stockton I got a gas receipt and finished paperwork. I headed across the street to the super 8 or whatever it is and went to get a room. I talked the night desk clerk into filling out my witness form and as luck would have it the overnight clerk had just showed up also. I talked the overnight girl into filling out my witness sheet for in the morning, and then headed to the room. I was very hungry since I had only had a couple pieces of jerky on the ride thus far so I headed back out to find the local taco bell and found out it had closed 10 minutes before my arrival. Since I was cutting into my rest time I went back to the room, peeled off my boots and had a few more pieces of jerky before sleeping the sleep of the dead.

A mere six hours later the alarm began doing its thing and I contemplated rolling back over and being content with just a SaddleSore 1000 and a lot of sleep. 15 seconds later I was up and out of bed and a lot less sore than I had anticipated. I got dressed quickly and was back on the road in no time. As I dropped of the key with the overnight clerk she peeled herself off of her boyfriend long enough for me to thank her for filling out the witness sheet again and I was off to get gas across the street.

As I filled my tank and started doing the paperwork I noticed the mileage was the exact same as the final gas stop the night before. I knew I had ridden at least a mile in my quest for the Taco Bell the night before. My heart sank as I realized what had occurred. The Suzuki Volusia has a magnetic speed sensor attached to the front wheel, and the magnetic propeller is notorious for self destructing. Here I am 500 miles from home, no dealership in sight, time is ticking away, and I have no Speedometer or odometer. I figure I will have to just rely on gas receipts and the mileage verification, and hit the road.

At the next stop in Ozona the limited beef jerky I had eaten the day before was no longer cutting it. Luckily there was a little café next to the gas station and although everyone stopped and stared as I walked in like it was a bad movie the omelet was good and quick and I was back on road in no time. I was beginning to get the understanding why Iron Butt members refer to themselves as the world’s toughest riders. The soreness was beginning to set in and my bobber and lack of seat padding weren’t helping that much.

I quickly got back into the 100 mile and gas routine and even though I could push the bike another 60 miles or so per tank it had worked this far and I liked having the breaks. The miles kept rolling by and as I began getting closer and closer to Houston I realized I would be hitting right as afternoon traffic started getting bad. To be honest, looking back it may be a good thing the speedo was not functioning. I was riding my usual 5 or so mph over traffic flow, but at times that just seemed to be faster than I was used to. As I began to get into the Houston area the traffic started building, and soon I was dealing with full blow rush hour. As I watched the clock I still had over an hour to finish in less than 36 total hours, but I knew I still had a 35 minute trip left without traffic. Somehow I picked the correct lanes and found room to shift as necessary and I was soon past the worst of it and now just watching the miles and minutes tick away. After what seem like an eternity but in actuality only 40 minutes or so later I found myself back at my exit and arriving at the same store where this all began early the day before. I filled up and checked the receipt, 35 hours 40 minutes and from the map program I knew 1564 miles had passed since this all began.

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from me, after 3 years of dreaming it; I had finally finished an Iron Butt ride. I headed back to my house two miles away and made it as far as the icehouse two blocks way. I walked in and the owner took a look at me and informed me I had a 1000 yard stare. I informed him it was more like a 1500 mile stare and told him a brief recap of my previous 36 hours. He ended up buying my beer, and after a cold one I went home.

I had figured I would have walked in the door and passed out, but for some reason I was wide awake when I got home. I got my ending witness form filled out, and I took a long hot shower and got on the computer for a couple hours sorting receipts and making copies of everything while I filled out my Iron Butt application. Finally after a couple hours it all caught up to me, and I slept.

A postscript report: I tore apart the speed sensor after my return and sure enough, the propeller was nothing but powder. I had also noticed some noise from my clutch area in any gear over 3rd, when I opened the clutch three of the four clutch spring bolts had loosened up and were about to fall out. All in all no major problems with the bike.

-goon73

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