Adam Wolkoff's Ride Report
The third Minnesota 1000 24 hour endurance rally was held June 21-22, 1997.
This year, the event drew over 120 riders, who competed in five classes for a
shot at the winner's circle in "Minnesota's Toughest Motorcycle
Event." As an Ironbutt competitor with previous experience in endurance
events (and a previous MN1K winner), I was assigned to the "expert"
class. Other classes were "Standard" (for unfaired motorcycles, or
those with factory equiped handlebar mounted fairings), "Sport"
(primarily Japanese and Italian sportbikes), "Touring," and
"Unique" (which included one hopeful participant competing on a 50cc
moped).
Riders attempt to earn points by traveling to various locations, primarily in
the upper midwest. The event's name is something of a misnomer, as participants
are not required to ride more or less than 1000 miles, nor are bonuses located
solely in Minnesota. This year, bonus locations were as close as several blocks
from the start/finish line to as far away as Hells Half Acre, Wyoming (a breezy
1900 mile jaunt). The rules are few. Essentially, riders are free to plan their
own routes, but must return to the finish line within 24 hours. The rule sheet
handed out to competitors also specified one rule not commonly found in events
of this sort: no running with scissors.
The route I planned covered Minnesota, Iowa, Miossouri, Nebraska and South
Dakota. Along the way, I jotted notes about interesting events, sights and
thoughts. These are presented here for your amusement and edification, with the
caveat that free advice is always worth what is paid for it.
PRE-RALLY PREPARATION
Some things are mandatory (motorcycle, protective gear, maps). Some things are
just a good idea (camelback with drinking tube, radar detector, sheepskin for
seat). Some things are another thing altogether. Take rider Tim Conway,
competing in the touring class on a borrowed K75RT. Tim had faced some bad luck
last year, and he wans't about to let anything get in his way. In order to save
every minute for riding, Tim even purchased some Nicorette gum to cut down on
smoke breaks. Tim's planning obviously paid off, as he won his class and will be
competing in "Expert" next year. No word on whether he's quit smoking.
SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T GET IT
This year, the rally featured mandatory bonus stops, usually at local bike shops
who helped sponsor the event. Each was worth one point, with the exception of
Moon Motors, which was worth two points due to the shop's limited hours. Another
wrinkle was that riders were permitted to secure one mandatory bonus PRIOR to
the start of the rally (This rule no doubt appealed to Rallymaster Eddie James'
decidedly different sense of humor). Since Moon was worth double, I decided it
was worth grabbing, even though it meant riding 80 miles before the start of the
event.
I arrived at the shop some 30 minutes before it opened. A short time later,
another rider pulled in on a K11RS. He eyed me warily. I try to break the ice by
asking him about the mandatory bonus choices. He was clueless. He warmed up a
bit, after I assured him that I had no plans of poaching his service
appointment.
Though friendly, this fellow rider is vocally not impressed with the whole
idea of endurance riding. "Those People," he tells me, "have
screwed up the idea of what motorcycling should be." I try to explain to
him that riding is many things to many people. He is not convinced. I explain
that long distance riding, like marathon running, is a personal challenge that
produces tangible rewards on many levels of personal development. He looks at me
blankly. My explanation is going nowhere. Just then, the cavalry arrived. A
large group of fellow competitors roared up. GPz1100s parked next to ratty old
Hondas. Fellow competitors--some strangers only a few minutes earlier--joked and
socialized together. My potential convert, now vastly outnumbered (remember: the
majority is ALWAYS sane) slunk back to his bike. I hope he learns that
motorcycling is big enough for all of us.
ITS A GAME OF INCHES
The Minnesota 1000 is played out over twenty four hours and thousands of highway
miles (1380 of them for me this year). For all the grand scale, a single
miscalculation or a second of indecision can make the difference between absolute
glory and abject defeat.
Some lessons I learned well from last year's competition. My time management
skills at fuel stops have vastly improved . What routinely took 15+ minutes last
year can now be completed in six minutes. Some lessons I learned again. Last
year, I felt my biggest weakness was a failure to constantly analyze my route. I
made a concerted effort to reform this year, and succeeded--to a degree. I know I
picked up bonuses this year that I would have blown by last year. On the other hand, my attempt to bag three state capitals outside of Minnesota failed, due to
my brain's apparent inability to (1) realize that the state capital of Kansas is
closer to Lincoln, Nebraska than is the capital of South Dakota, and (2) then
determine that bagging Topeka would have set up a run for Chicago and more huge
bonuses, or (3) overreaching is a Bad Idea. Sigh. I plan to affix to my bike one
of those signs made famous by a former IBM CEO: THINK.
A number of riders learned that fuel is a scarce commodity at night in rural
Nebraska and Iowa. One rider was forced to "access" a shed and
"borrow" some gas from a lawnmower in order to keep moving. I was also
surprised that sizable towns in northern Nebraska do not have 24 hour gas.
Lesson: At night, in such areas, get gas when you see it is available. It may not
BE available up the road.
THOSE ARE MY LO BEAMS, HONEST
Several hours after dark, my main headlight decided it was going on strike.
Luckily, I had invested in 220 watts of PIAA driving lights, so I was not blind.
My fellow motorists were not as fortunate, since they were now blinded by my
lights. Eventually I was able to persuade the high beam to function. I decided
under the circumstances, I would deem my headlight (locked on high beam) as a
"low beam," and the PIAAs would be deemed my "brights."
Whenever anyone flashed their headlights at me, I flashed back with the PIAAs.
It seemed that everyone was happy, most of all me, who got to ride with LOTS OF
LIGHT all night long, with impunity.
CROSS-CULTURAL EXPERIENCES
One bonus required the rider to record a particular phrase of graffiti located
inside a covered bridge on a dirt road outside of Winterset, Iowa. You may
remember this bridge from such films as "The Bridges of Madison
County." I found my way to the bridge, climbed off the bike and set off to
find the graffiti. I was carrying the bonus list in an aluminum case like the
cops use when they write your speeding ticket, so I suppose I must have looked
somewhat "official" to the group of German tourists examining the
structure. Of course, I did not think of myself as such, as I was also still
wearing my Aerostich and helmet, but maybe motorcycle riding, 'stich wearing,
helmet sporting bridge inspectors are common in the Fatherland. I located the graffiti
and recorded the answer, then hurried back toward the bike. One of the
Germans grabbed my arm, and asked "You are studying the bridge, ya?" I
politely answered in the affirmative, while trying to shake his grip. "What
did you learn?," he asked. I looked at him seriously, and adopted my most
official tone: "Lassie killed chickens." He dropped my arm, I
remounted the bike, and sped off.
The moped rider, piloted by a teenager from West Virginia, had a cross cultural
experience of a legal kind. Mopeds in that state do not require license plates. Minnesota does require
license plates, as a number of law enforcement
officials were happy to point out to this hapless rider. On one such occasion,
Our Hero had just convinced the cop that he really didn't need a plate, only to
be then told that "this town has a curfew and you're in violation!"
Eventually the officer must have figured that anyone riding an event like the
MN1K on a moped deserved some sympathy, and cut the guy loose.
A MODEST PROPOSAL
A number of riders from Chicago showed up to run the event. Many placed in the
money. Mike Cornett won the touring class. Look out, all you 1088 participants,
he's heading your way next. Mike DeSantis took second in the same class (and on
his first 1000+ mile day no less). The charming and determined Sue Huff also
placed in her class. Next year, I propose a new class, composed entirely of
riders from Chicagoland, be created.
LESSONS TO BE LEARNED, REDUX
I spoke earlier of the lessons to be learned from long distance riding. Many of
these are of the character building sort. It is really no fun to make a mistake
that costs points, but there is some redemption to be had by correcting the
error, or finding new solutions. In the end, perseverance does pay off. Mind
does conquer matter (at least for a while). Doing it right really does feel
good. Plus, these events are just a lot of fun, plain and simple. Take that, Mr
Nonbeliever.
EXTREMES
One extreme is mental toughness, the iron will needed to stick to a
project and see it through to completion. Not every rider has The Will. Joan
Oswald has it in spades. Joan's first setback occurred just moments into the rally, when her purse (and its money, credit cards, military ID, postal ID, green
card, etc. etc) blew off the back of her bike and into the hands of some urban
youths. She and her husband, Rick, spent the first three hours of the rally
calling credit card companies. (Rick, who managed to keep his sense of humor,
joked about making a donation "to the underprivileged children of South
Minneapolis" after watching three such urchins run off with their money.)
Joan's hard luck continued when her bike went down in South Dakota. She was
bruised and sported a broken finger, but was willing to continue the rally. Her
bike, similarly down but not out, was apparently in agreement. 1997 Ironbutt
riders, take notice: Ms. Oswald will be at the finish line. Of this I have no
doubt.
AND A GOOD TIME WAS HAD BY ALL
One thing that is not a surprise about the MN1K is the professionalism with
which it is run. Rally packs are clear and concise. Local sponsors have embraced
the rally, making for nice door prizes. The start/finish was again at Bob's Java
Hut, which generously donated free coffee and beverages. Lisa McDonald, the
local city council member, arranged to have the street closed in front of Bob's,
so there was plenty of room to park 120 bikes. Another nice thing about the MN1K
is how it has managed to remain friendly despite doubling in size. The awards
ceremony is a good example. Participants are encouraged to tell about their
rides. We were all treated to some amusing stories about mishaps, near mishaps,
and things that go bump in the night. The volunteers all worked hard to see that
riders were checked in and out with a smile. Everything ran smoothly, which
proved that all problems were anticipated and solved before they happened. Jon
Diaz deserves mention here too. Jon won a substantial door prize from a local
motorcycle shop. Class guy that he is, Jon donated his prize back to the rally
workers, as thanks for a job well done. They deserved every cent, and more.
In its first year, the Minnesota 1000 billed itself as the Premier long distance event in the Upper Midwest. The rally has certainly grown into this billing. The number of riders participating, as well as the level of competition, has grown with each year. I rode more miles than last year's first place finish, and scored more points, which was good for a tie for third place in my class. Given the competition, I don't feel bad about that. Make plans now to join us next year!