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The Buttlite Adventure on an R1 The trip to the Buttlite began like so many of my other motorcycle trips. Let me see… I need to get to Navasota, Texas so as I figure Colorado is on the way isn’t it? (My mom really wonders about my sense of direction.) There is always a reason though - I am in the Air Force and I had a conference to go to. They would be paying mileage, at least to Colorado and back. I left from Cavalier Air Force Station on Saturday, 17 August and made it to Valentine, Nebraska. The R1 got loaded down with a tankbag, a Ventura luggage rack with a 5-gallon fuel and 55-liter bag, then a set of Chase Harper saddlebags. Sunday morning I was up early and made it into Denver to stay with Bill & Becky Gillespie. The week was spent at a conference for work at Peterson Air Force Base. I rode back and forth from Denver a couple of times, Tuesday night for a Rockies baseball game and then on Thursday for some maintenance on the bike. (Thanks Bill for the help and great garage to work on the bike.) That done, I was free to head south on Friday afternoon for Navasota and really get started on my adventure. About an hour from Fort Worth, I was dangerously close to running out of gas. As I pulled into the nearest town, all gas stations looked ominously dark. Fortunately, I found a gas station that had 24-hour pay-at-the-pump even though the overhead lights were off. (Accommodations for desperate LD riders, I guess.) I made it to Fort Worth and checked into a hotel for the night. I was up and on the road by 6:00 am or so, and to the Live Oaks Resort around 10:30 am. My first problem came up when I went to do my tech inspection and needed my insurance information. I knew immediately right where it was - I had left it on the kitchen table in Cavalier, ND. I was able to get a hold of one of my neighbors who was able to have her husband fax it to me from work. (Thank you very, very much Chad and Jana.) I missed the 11:00 odometer check (and the media), but made the 1:00. After that, I went to see my friends Dave & Anne Miller, who live about 60 miles from Houston. In the morning, it was time for a major weight loss program on the R1. I left everything that I didn’t think that I would absolutely need for the next seven days, ending up with a couple changes of clothes, an electric liner, a fleece top and bottom, a laptop computer and a minimal toolkit. The mandatory riders’ meeting at Live Oaks Resort clarified the rules, one of which stated that all objects picked up for a bonus must be returned in intact. (More on that later…) After the meeting I rode back into Navasota to check into the hotel and pick up a few things at the local Wal-Mart, neglecting to pick up extra film for my Polaroid camera. (Oops.) After the banquet - an excellent meal and time to chat with new and old LD friends - it was time for the rally packets and flags to be handed out. Eddie and Adam made comments about each rider as they came up. As I got my flag, Eddie said, “and what were you thinking?” (Apparently, he hasn’t spent enough time riding an R1 to know how much fun they are.) I headed back to the Super 8 motel by way of the Best Western to check out the FJR that was entered in this event. Unfortunately, it was covered and Todd was nowhere to be seen, so I guessed I would have to wait until morning. Now it was time to find out where I would be heading on the way to Minneapolis. I went to my room, pulled out the computer and started to put together my route. I wasn’t going to do anything too aggressive on this leg, and I wanted to be sure to get a good night’s sleep, so I put together what looked to be something reasonable with decent amount of points. The morning came quickly, but I felt well rested and ready to go. My goals were to have fun, hopefully finish in the top 10 or 15, and to have enough miles by the Bakersfield checkpoint to get the Saddlesore 5000 (5000 miles in 5 days). Since going to the start of the ’01 Ironbutt in Huntsville I have wanted to find out if I really would have fun riding a multi-day event, and I was looking forward to it. I got the bike in line to get an initial odometer reading so I would be ready to leave right at 6:00. I finally had a chance to meet Todd Witte and his FJR. It was only a week old, and had 620 miles on it, but it certainly looked like he had been busy. He had it farkled up very well already. Paul Pelland was up to his usual - he had used some duct tape to cover up the Harley Davidson patch on Todd’s orange and black Aerostitch, and was looking for a magic marker to put Team Yamaha in its place. At the riders’ meeting we learned that there was a mistake on the route sheet, and Eddie and Adam handed out some additional sheets. I didn’t find anything that looked like a lot more points, and I liked my plan so I decided to stick with it. I was the second one out of the parking lot (ominously enough) and headed north to find a herd of cattle in downtown Dallas. I arrived at the cattle drive without any problems. A lady there offered to take my picture. Counting the steers, however, was not as easy as you might think. I counted them three times and came up with 39. As I was leaving I talked to a grounds person and asked how many steers there were. “39, right?” He told me that was right, so I felt very confident at this point. As I was about to head out I saw another rider pull up. It was Todd on the FJR, foreshadowing a close competition. After Dallas, I headed for Rolla, Missouri to find the first of what would be several Stonehenge bonuses on the rally. I found myself on a road overlooking a bunch of semi trailers in a parking lot. At this point, I wasn’t really sure what kind of a weird sense of humor Eddie and Adam had. I thought to myself, this really doesn’t look anything like Stonehenge, but the trailers were parked in sort of a circle... I suppose I should have asked someone at the nearby gas station, or given Eddie and Adam a call to clarify the bonus. But I got a picture of the semi trailers and got back on the road. My next bonus was to take a picture of the world’s tallest man. This was the one we had received corrections for that morning, and I made sure to follow the new directions. (Or so I thought.) I went down the street looking for the statue on the right side of the road. I went little too far and ended up asking someone where it was. Turns out it would have been on my left going down the street, but was only a block away. At the statue, I got a fellow tourist to take my picture and I was on my way again. On to Hannibal, Missouri to find the names of the three missing boys at the lover’s leap just outside of town. I missed the sign and ended up asking for directions again. After that, I had no problem finding the plaque and getting the names. At this point, I had to pull out my computer to find the next bonus, as my GPS didn’t know where Monterey, Iowa was. About this time I decided to use my sleep bonus. I would have plenty of time to make it to Des Moines by 10:00 the next morning anyway. I checked into a hotel somewhere in Iowa about midnight. At five I was up, got a shower, and hit the road for day two, feeling good and ready to ride again. At the turn off to Monterey I came across two other bikes. I figured they were both on the rally - I mean who else would be riding on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere at 6:00 in the morning? Sure enough, it was Bryan on his VFR and Jason on his Goldwing. We came to a Y and took a right turn. After a couple of miles we figured that we should have found Monterey by now, and maybe we should have gone left. As they turned around, I decided to screw around with the R1 and spin it around, as I like to do, showing off a little. Not a great idea this early in the morning with the aux tank full of fuel. I got it all the way around like it was supposed to, and then with the bike just a little too off balance, I dropped the it on its right side. Oh well - so much for impressing anyone with my riding ability. Going left at the Y and just around the next turn we found the church that we were supposed to take a picture of. The next bonus was a fuel receipt in Iowa City. On the way I ran into road construction. The road was closed, but there was enough room for a bike to get by the small pile of gravel there, and then the coast was clear. Or not. I was just about to the end of the construction when a state trooper came around the corner and sure enough, on came the lights. I pulled over, placing my gloves over the radar detector, and pulled off the helmet. I got the usual questions – “what is the big hurry?” “Don’t you know you could have been seriously hurt riding through the construction zone?” “License and registration…” and then he was off to talk with another deputy who had pulled up. Fifteen minutes later he came back and let me off with a warning and a stern lecture to never do that again. Not much of a short cut, time wise at least. After Iowa City I was off to Des Moines. Several other riders were already at Big Daddy’s BBQ when I pulled up. I parked my bike next to Todd Witte in the Yamaha parking zone. We had about a half an hour to wait, so Todd was up to his usual activity. They had Big Daddy filling out receipts by hand. Todd was first in line, so after the first receipt was filled out, he suggested that Big Daddy take a break and he could write the rest of them very slowly. This caused a few people to get a little upset and Todd, realizing he was outnumbered, quickly backed off. We got our $10 bottles of BBQ sauce, and a warning to wash your hands before going to the restroom if you ever partook of this nasty concoction. I caught up with Todd on I-35 north and we headed for the Minnesota order. At the intersection of I-90, I went west to Mankato in search of Zan’s - a Mexican restaurant - and a receipt for a food item I wouldn’t have time to eat. There was a construction detour that routed east about 5 miles to the next exit where you could turn around and go west, which was where I wanted to go. I was planning on making a u-turn and saving myself the extra miles, but just as I started to slow I saw a state patrol with someone pulled over a few hundred yards down the road. After getting off just a few hours earlier, I decided not to take the chance and went around to the next exit. Pulling into Mankato, I saw a Taco John’s up the road I headed that way, as the directions said it was across the street from a Taco John’s. Just before I got there I saw Todd coming from the other direction. I figured he was a couple of seconds ahead of me. After I got to Taco John’s and didn’t find the place, I reread the directions and realized I had missed a turn. This was the wrong Taco John’s. I headed back and pulled in just as Todd was leaving. He commented that the kid at the counter was completely confused when he had asked about another rider ahead of him getting a receipt. He also mentioned that the two-lane road to Hudson might not be the best place in the afternoon with the school buses out, so 169 might be a better choice. I got a receipt for a taco I never saw and was off and running again. I rode through Minneapolis and St. Paul without too much trouble, meeting several riders as I crossed the river into Wisconsin. At Adam’s dad’s cabin, Todd pulled up a couple minutes after me and I asked where he had been to allow me to pass him. Apparently, he had taken a wrong turn. I left in front of him and headed for the first checkpoint. Sixty miles to go in 2 hours shouldn’t be a problem, right? Well, it was 4:00 pm and traffic was a nightmare through Minneapolis/St. Paul. I turned north on I-694 and just past the first exit, traffic was stopped as far as I could see. I made a u-turn at the exit and went back to I-94 west and north on I-35E where traffic was moving a little better. As it started to slow down again, I went west on I-36 over to I-35W and headed north again. As I neared the exit, traffic was backed up for over a mile. At this point I was really starting to get worried. I went past that exit and headed north at Lexington and west on Hwy 245 to get to US 10. There the traffic eased up and I made it to the checkpoint with about 12 minutes to spare. I had made the first leg and was fairly happy with what I had been able to accomplish. My brother was waiting for me with the new set of tires for my bike. There was quite a line for the scoring tables so we changed the rear tire in the parking lot. My brother took off to get me some more Polaroid film and came back with one package. (This would be important later – lesson learned: always carry extra film.) I talked with Todd and found out that he been back for almost a half an hour before I got there. He said he was still trying to make up his mind of whether he liked me not or not. He was going to call me Buster, but switched to “the Kid.” Either way, I was enjoying his sense of humor and his ability to not take things too seriously. I did my prescoring and things looked good. At the scoring table things started to look not so good. As I showed him my picture of Stonehenge, he was like, “what is this?” Oh well - I was afraid of that. Now, how many steers were there in Dallas? It was not the 39 that I had – it seems there were 40. I was told that I could take it up with Eddie and Adam, but I really didn’t have much hope. They laughed at my picture of “Stonehenge” - I guess that meant no points. But they said they were allowing a plus or minus one on the counting so I got the points for Dallas, and that left me in fourth with a few more riders left to be scored. I ended up eighth after everyone was in. I felt pretty good - I hadn’t pushed too hard on this leg, and I was ready for the next one. I had dinner with my brother, and at 8:00 we were back and ready to get the packet for leg two. I pulled out my laptop to show my brother how this rally planning worked. I looked at the first route sheet and thought about the bonus at the Northwest Angle - I know that road well - and then heading up to Flin Flon which would have been a good ride. The other choice was to head to Montana for a bunch of points out there. That looked much more doable, and there were plenty of escape options if things didn’t go as planned. It was about 9:00 now, and as I pulled out there were only one or two bikes left. I wondered if I had taken too much time planning. I was going to Montana, but the first bonus was right back in Minneapolis at Bob’s Java. It was easy to get in and out with my coffee mug in hand. I made it to Fargo where I spent the night. I checked into a hotel at about 11:30, and got a wake up call for 4:00 am. The looks I got from the hotel clerks for getting a wake up call only 4 hours after checking in were kind of funny. The next morning I was off and running across North Dakota, I ended up passing a lone rider on the prairie with a “Just Married” sign on the back of his bike. We ended up riding together across the state and into Baker, Montana to get a picture of the world’s largest steer. As we waited for the museum to open, a few of us discussed our plans. I asked Paul if he had gone back into Minneapolis for the coffee cup, and found out that he hadn’t. He commented that yes, it would be worth a thousand points, IF you managed to get it to all the checkpoints. Paul mentioned that he was going to try to make Afton, Wyoming. When I planned my route, I had immediately written off anything in Wyoming as too far out of the way. I pulled out the computer and plugged it in. It really didn’t look so bad, and it was worth a bunch of points… Sure, I’m headed that way. Riding through Billings I thought about the Abzorkee bonus and plugged that one into my GPS. It was only a couple miles out of the way and I knew the road. Paul turned off towards Red Lodge. I figured I would catch him before Cooke City anyway. I got the picture of the monument for some preacher and was off for Red Lodge. The weather was not looking good up over the pass. I was really afraid that conditions might be like they were when I rode home that way after my first LD rally, the 1088 in 2000. (The last weekend in June and I got caught in a blizzard coming over the pass. I ended up riding in over 3 inches of snow and following the tire tracks of the cars in front of me to make it down.) I wrote down the mileage and time at the Red Boxcar Drive In and headed up Bear Tooth Pass. That is definitely one of my favorite roads. The weather was really not too bad. It was a little cool and there were a couple of drops of rain, but no snow, so my fears were unfounded. After getting the mileage and time at the Saloon in Cooke City, I got some gas and a bite to eat, and decided to wait for Paul. Apparently I was still in the gas station or getting dressed as he went by, because I saw him pulling out, already finished in the saloon. When I went in to take the picture, the guys at the bar started asking questions. Paul had told them to harass anyone coming later. They hadn’t finished the round Paul had bought them when I got there so they weren’t really ready for me, but I guess some of the later riders had a harder time. At Yellowstone I saw Paul pulling away from the entrance as I drove up. I got my entrance pass and headed out after him. I passed him a couple of miles later, and around the next corner my Valentine lit up. Not good. I ended up getting a ticket for exactly what I was going which wasn’t really too bad. Paul got pulled over, but after telling the park ranger that he wasn’t really riding with me, he was free to go. So the rest of the ride through the park gave me more of a chance to pause and look at the scenery. (I really didn’t want to find out what they would do to you if you ended up with two tickets in one day.) Those were the most wretched hours of the entire rally. That bike is really not comfortable riding at 35 and 45 mph. On leaving the park I caught up with Paul again and we rode together through the construction all way to Afton for a picture of the antler arch. After a sit down meal at the nearest Burger King, we split up for the night. I made it as far as Dubois, Idaho before getting a room. The next morning it was very chilly riding into Butte to get a picture of the Madonna statue overlooking the city. I ran into Scott Davis, and we rode around most of Butte trying to get a better view. Finally we just took a picture and hoped it would be good enough. Then it was off to Post Falls for checkpoint two. I made it into the dealership with about 20 minutes to spare and a full tank of gas. H Mark introduced himself - he is on the FJR list and had his bike there. I was a little jealous as I was still waiting for mine to come in. The dealership did an oil change on the bike, then I did my prescoring and things were looking pretty good. After making sure everything was in order, I went to the scoring table, and this time they came out with the same score I had. Things were looking up this time. Adam and Eddie congratulated me on an impressive ride and said I was in first unless someone came in with more points. When the scores were posted I was still in first. Wow - this was not a scenario I had ever anticipated! Now everyone knew who I was. The pressure was on. After getting the route sheet for the next leg I sat down and started plotting out my route. Again, I was one of the last bikes to leave from the dealership, but I was ready and this was going to be fun. I headed south on 395 on my way to Denio Junction. Talk about a fun road - this was the reason that I was riding an R1 in an event like this. Hours and hours through some great roads and lots of chances to use the edges of the tires, which had been neglected riding through North Dakota. I pulled into Denio Junction and got my picture there. I spent the night in Winnemucca, Nevada, getting four hours of sleep again. This was the advice my friend Dick Fish had given me - make sure to get some quality sleep each night. The next morning it was off to Donner Pass to find out if some guy there had been a survivor or lunch. Then to a rest area to get a picture of the elevation sign. The next bonus I got was Rough & Ready, CA. This was not on the GPS base map, but there was a trucker at the rest stop who showed me where it was on his map. Picture taken there, I headed for Santa Rosa to the Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum. Next it was across the Golden Gate Bridge and the toll receipt went into my wallet. I then went down Lombard Street and counted 10 signs. The next bonus did not go as planned. I found the plaque in the alley without too much trouble and was ready to get my picture with my towel from a friendly passerby. But as she pressed the button, no picture was taken. I was out of film. The store on the corner didn’t have any, but he told me there was another shop a couple of blocks away. Nice, but I had 90 minutes to make the 93 miles to Hollister and get a receipt from the Wizard’s Café for a 1400 point bonus. The 300 something point bonus really wasn’t worth it. (Come to find out it could have made a big difference...) It was Friday afternoon of Labor Day weekend and I was downtown San Francisco. Fortunately for me, lane splitting is legal in California. Traffic was moving well until I got through San Jose where the road narrows down to two lanes. I made it through the snarl and things were looking okay until I hit construction on the road into Hollister. It was going to be tight. On the road to the café I failed to see the bump sign. I found myself a couple of feet in the air. I’m sure someone got a good laugh out of that one. Anyway, I was there with 30 seconds to spare. I got a receipt for a coke and then sat down to a burger and fries. I was feeling a little bummed about not being able to get the points for the bonus I had ridden right to in San Francisco, and was contemplating skipping the coast and heading for Tijuana… but then again, I thought, one of my goals is to have fun and there aren’t too many roads more fun than the coast highway. From there it was off to Monterey to get something from the As Seen on TV store. The next bonus was to get a picture of the sign in front of a church in Pacific Grove. As I started toward Big Sur to get a picture at the post office, the traffic thinned out and it was a fantastic ride all the way down the coast. Life was again great at this point as I enjoyed the ride to its fullest. Just before getting to Hurst Castle I came upon a cop, but noticed him off in the distance and slowed to a mph or so over the speed limit. Every time I crested a hill behind him by about a half a mile he would hit me with his radar. I guess he was hoping I would forget he was there and come flying up over one of those hills. I followed him for approximately 20 miles. As I passed by Morro Bay Rock I looked at it and thought, “that wasn’t a bonus was it?” I really should have stopped and looked at my bonus sheet, but I kept on driving. I had calculated a route, written numbers next to the bonus description, then picked them off in order. This one was labeled… with unlucky number 13. I didn’t realize my error until it was too late. It was about midnight when I pulled into Tijuana. I parked the bike, walked across the border, found the plaque, got my picture and walked back. This process took much longer than the woefully optimistic five-minute suggestion on the bonus sheet – try 45 minutes. On the way down I had stopped at San Onefre Beach to get a picture, then somewhere in the LA area for gas, but the receipt didn’t say Los Angeles so I couldn’t claim it for the LA gas bonus. Enroute to Bakersfield I stopped for gas again, but still was foiled in my plan. I didn’t have time to get a hotel that evening, but needing some sleep, I pulled over at an exit and got about an hour and a half. This was enough to get me safely into Bakersfield with about 30 or 40 minutes to spare. I had about 5800 miles so I had made one of my goals - the Saddlesore 5,000 - and I was still having fun. I got all my receipts out and prescored myself. I couldn’t find my toll receipt so I lost out on 90 some points for the Golden Gate Bridge bonus. Then I found out that I should have gone to the east bound rest area, not the west, but it was still enough to keep me in first. Again, I was as surprised as anyone to still find myself at the top of the list, but I was going to have to get some sleep today. Route sheet for the final leg in hand, I got my computer and started planning. I thought I’d up the 6 pack of Dr. Pepper and also the 6 pack of beer for the finish, so I decided to send my fleece with Jon to give myself a little more room. As I pulled the fleece out of my tank bag, the coffee cup that was wrapped up in it fell to the ground and broke. There went 333 points that I didn’t have to ride anywhere to get. The lead that I had over Paul had quickly narrowed. The heat of the desert and the very short night started catching up with me. I knew that I needed to find someplace to get some rest. I saw a movie theatre and thought, that will work - it’s dark, cool and I won’t have any problem sleeping with a movie going on. I got a ticket for the matinee, sat down in the last row and promptly went to sleep. I woke up about an hour later, refreshed, and left the theatre. (I bet the employees were wondering what a guy wearing a snowmobile suit was doing going out into 110 + degree heat halfway through the film.) Then to Brad Dassalson’s place for the required ½ hour stop. I thought I might try to head to Kansas with Todd and Bob, but after spending a couple minutes in the pool and eating some snacks (thanks again), I really didn’t think I could do that safely. I decided to go north and catch the Four Corners monument instead. I made it as far as Flagstaff before trying to get a room. This was the hardest place for me to find a hotel on the entire rally. (I suppose the fact that it was Labor Day weekend in a very touristy town didn’t help.) Saturday morning I was feeling much better and ready to do some more miles. I had about 1600 to go and 31 hours to do it in. Not difficult, but I couldn’t waste too much time. I was starting to realize the mental shift that I’ve made this summer riding this bike. All of a sudden those distances really don’t look all that bad. I headed up to the Four Corners monument and got someone to take my picture, then went to Pagosa Springs for a fuel receipt. While I was there I pulled out the computer and took another look at my route. I contemplated heading to Corpus Christi, but thought there were more points to be had by catching Kansas, then Dallas and Waco. I headed out over Wolf Creek pass on US-65 hitting the only real rain of the rally in the construction zone. It was soon over and the roads were once again clear with very little traffic. I made it to Holcomb and got a picture of the city limit sign. Next was Ulysses, Kansas were I got a picture of another city limit sign. The bugs were something else that night. When I saw the bike in the daylight again, it looked like it had been through a war zone. I spent the night in a hotel close to the Oklahoma border. I had a wake up call for 5 am, which left me about an hour to spare in order to make it to the finish on time. The next morning as I got dressed I realized that I didn’t have my flag. I assumed that I left it on the sign in Ulysses. With an hour to spare and 68 miles back to the sign with absolutely no guarantee the flag would still be there, it really wasn’t worth a possible DNF - not when I had ridden this far. The bonus in Dallas was out as it required the flag to be able to collect it. I also read the sheet again and realized that the Dr. Pepper bonus was only available on Saturday (right…) or Sunday. That meant I was done collecting bonuses and I only had to make it to the finish with my six-pack of beer. Since I don’t drink, and they hadn’t specified it had to be an alcoholic beverage, I picked up a six pack of root beer… but had a 6 pack of Budweiser just in case. (I wasn’t going to lose 1000 points over that.) I ended up going to the Dr. Pepper museum and got the 6-pack anyway. Maybe, just maybe it would be worth something. (It wasn’t, but oh well, rules are rules.) I pulled into the Live Oaks resort and saw Todd there at the entrance. He had made it to Kansas for the big points there, and also down to Corpus Christi. It was going to be close. I did my prescore and then was scored. I ended up getting a decent amount of points, but I wasn’t really sure if it would be enough to beat Paul. I still didn’t think Todd had enough points to beat me. We were sworn to secrecy about our scores. I had a couple of hours before the banquet, so I rode to Houston to get a shower and a clean change of clothes. I sat between Bob Hall and Jim Winterer at dinner. I found out that Bob had also owned an R1 and ridden it a little - just not for LD riding. Then came the part we were all waiting for. Adam and Eddie started last place and worked their way to first, drawing out the suspense as long as they could. They would take turns saying a little bit about each rider and something they had seen or remembered about them during the rally - it was impressive. I knew I was going to be in the top three, I just didn’t know what number. I thought Paul was about the only one that could have beaten me, but I wasn’t sure. Then third place was announced and it was Paul. Eddie started in to something about feeling bad for the next rider and I knew right away that it had to be me. Sure enough, Todd had ridden a great leg to beat me by 255 points. So, as Eddie pointed out when he presented me with my $1000 coffee cup, that would have made the difference. He mentioned that he couldn’t get me upset over losing points, and the way I told them exactly what I did with the rest stop bonus when there wasn’t really any way for them to know for sure if I had done it right. But, if you have read this far and remember my goals from the beginning, I had exceeded all of them. I really did have a lot of fun, I definitely finished, and I was near the top - much nearer than I expected to be. I spent a bit of time getting congratulations and talking with new and old friends, then decided to take advantage of Todd’s offer to let me ride his FJR 1300 - thanks again Todd. I spent about an hour talking with Todd and Eric Jewell - it was fun to get to know these two a little better. Then I was off to Houston to spend the night with my friends Anne & Dave Miller. The next day I spent some time on the phone with my family and a bunch of friends who were interested to hear how the rally had gone. The trip home was a lot of fun. First, I headed to Shreveport, LA to see a couple I had been stationed in Malmstrom with. Then it was over to Birmingham, Alabama to see an old buddy of my dad’s from Vietnam. I had to make a small detour up into Arkansas, now I’ve been in all 50 states. I stopped to have lunch in Jackson, Mississippi with Jerry from the FJR list and got to see his new FJR. I stayed with my dad’s friend just north of Birmingham and changed the rear tire the next morning. That was a short day - only about 300 miles. I stopped in Athens, Tennessee and had dinner with Ray & Mary - a couple that I met at Deal’s Gap last year. They’d had an FJR imported from Europe. Then it was up to Deal’s Gap. The next day was spent riding the dragon. I had brought my full race leathers and spent the day with my knees on the ground. That was a fun day, blowing people’s minds with the distances that I had ridden my R1. That I was leaving Sunday morning to be in Denver on Monday just didn’t compute for many of them… and I wasn’t even going to push it very hard. My buddy Andy Mills rode down for the weekend on his FZ1 from Osceola, WI. I rode a little past Kansas City and into Denver the next day to spend the night with Bill & Becky Gillespie. I had to be back in Colorado Springs on Tuesday for work again. I spent two days at a conference, and after it was over on Wednesday, I headed for home by way of Salt Lake City. I arrived there at 5:30 am, just in time to have breakfast with Frank & Jess Taylor and then catch some sleep. I got up around 10:00 and went to lunch with Jeniel Chalmers and Keriann. Then Keriann and I rode to Provo and had dinner with her sister, Britany. The next morning I saw Frank off to Gerlach, then rode to Des Moines, Iowa to stay with my aunt and uncle. On Saturday I went to Minneapolis for a wedding and then back to Cavalier on Sunday. A month long trip of a little over 17,000 miles was a good time, but now it was back to work. Well, it’s been over a month since I’ve been back and I’ve finally been able to sit down at the computer long enough to write out the story of my adventure this summer on the R1. It is snowing out there now and the R1 is parked, but the FJR is learning how to get me around in the snow. Grady A. Dunham Long Distance R1 Rider Cold Weather FJR Rider
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