CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE BAMBI KIND
OR: MY FIRST BUN BURNER
By David W. Nelson
24 June 2001
It’s 2AM CST in Chadron, NE, and time for a reality check.
In Scottsbluff, I had decided I was not going to make it to Deadwood, SD. I had been there in ’99 and ’00 during Sturgis. I’ve ridden the Black Hills, so I know it is now out of reach. So I decided to get the bonus points in Keystone, SD and then head for the barn.
Reality now says I will not make Keystone, either, and still make it back by the end of the rally. Out comes the map. US20 to US83, then to Murdo, SD and I-90 to MN. I pay cash for my gas, and get the required receipt.
Heading out of town, Chadron’s finest heads the other way. In my mirrors, I see him change lanes and hang a left. What’s chances of him running down a side street and trying to catch me on the east end of town? Keep the speed limit.
Out of town, and I
turn up the wick. It’s a beautiful night. Stars are out. Open highway ahead—HOLY
SH—BAMBI—brake? (no- then I’d hit dead
center) SWERVE—running out of road—HANG ON—PRAY—WHACK!!!
Early June, 2001. I am surfing the web (starting at the American Motorcyclist Association web page) for activities. I find a link to this group called TeamStrange. Sounds like my kind of people. At their web site, I find a link to something called the Minnesota 1000 (MN1K) Rally. Go to lots of strange places, collect bonus points, ride as many miles as you can in 24 hours (26 with penalties). Sounds like fun. I sign up. When I get the mailing for the rally, it tells me that TeamStrange is going to try to set a record for a Group Saddle Sore. The more I read the information, browse the TS website (especially the Discussion Board), and browse the Iron Butt Association (so THAT’s who they are) website, the more I find out about rallying. It looks as if it will be a fun weekend.
22 June 2001.
Take off early from work. Head for Monticule, MN, and Moon Motors. Pick up bonus. Back to the Cites. Get bonuses at Hitching Post North, Easy Riders, Trackstar Motorsports (also famous for the Oil City Café), and Roy’s Motorcycle repairs. Going on 1600. Odometer check ride starting soon. Head for starting location. Pick up route, but really all I have to do is follow a group of other riders. Ending location is Warner’s Outdoors, also known as the Worlds Largest Victory Dealer. Pick up my 6th pre-race bonus. My bike is quickly parked in. (If you visit the TeamStrange website, and check out the photos, my bike is on the first page, middle of the second row, bottom right of picture).
Liars Banquet starts around 5:30. Wait. Eat. Wait. Finally, Rev. Eddy James (also known as the Sadistic Bastard) starts the festivities. After all the rules and other hilarity, we get the bonus sheets. When I open mine, I look for the top bonus. Monterey, CA (yeh, right). Next highest is Scottsbluff, NE. That is doable.
When I can get my bike out, I head home and my maps.
Yahoo and MapQuest. Scottsbluff is 700+ miles. What bonuses are available along the way? Hello, Rand McNally. Quickly decide on Medelia, MN, Sioux City, and Council Bluffs, then to Scottsbluff, Keystone, SD., Deadwood, SD., and Buffalo and Bison, SD. I know that will be pushing the envelope. Back to Yahoo to print local maps. Suddenly, I can’t print from the Web. Oh, well.
I figuratively grew up in the back seat of a car. I can’t remember when I couldn’t read a road map, or navigate. I have been in all 48 Continental States. I’ll go with my AAA maps and adjust on the fly.
23 June 2001 0700
Clock radio goes off. I’ve got two hours to make it to Bob’s Java Hut, in Minneapolis, for the start of the Minnesota 1000 Rally. As soon as my feet hit the floor, Smokey the cat is all over me. He slept with me, but as soon as I make a lap he is in it. Slowly stand up. Smokey takes the hint and jumps down. Put on my slippers. Smokey tackles my right leg and hangs on. Shuffle to the bathroom with Smokey hanging on. Start the shower—Smokey learns once again it is wet. As soon as I open the curtain, Smokey starts meowing. Step out, and he tackles me again. Shake him off, and go to dress.
Socks. Smokey hangs on. Pants. Smokey. Belt. Ooh, fun for a kitty. Finish packing the small bag I am taking. Smokey tries to climb inside. Stage stuff to the apartment door. Smokey constantly underfoot.
Now, my cat is generally affectionate, but today is ridiculous. Does he think I am not coming back?
Call the kids to see if they can cat sit overnight. (Soon to be ex)-wife answers. She reluctantly agrees to take him. So Smokey goes over to stay with the kids, cats, and dog in the house in which he was raised. If I don’t make it back, he will have a home.
Finish packing my ’81 Honda CB750F Super Sport (nicknamed Boneyard Special). Head for Bob’s Java Hut, premier coffeehouse for motorcyclists in the Twin Cities. I know I have forgotten something.
0930. Riders meeting. Rev. Eddy hands out the additional bonus locations. Major bonuses for doing the Group SaddleSore record ride. Guess what. The GSS is worth more points than any other single bonus location. Surprise, surprise. Look at the GSS route. Although it is my first time, I decide to go ahead with my planned route, and hunt bonuses.
1000. I am probable the 10th rider through the start. Head for I-35W. Overhead sign blinks about a traffic delay ahead. Take an alternate route, MN62 to US169 South. Forgot to reset my trip meter at Bob’s, do it now. Suddenly, my bike nosedives, and the engine sputters. GAS. That is what I forgot. 1st gas stop less than 20 miles into ride. (1st stupid mistake.) Get receipt.
Down US 169. Medelia, MN. What’s the bonus? Get off the highway, pull out the bonus sheet and check, then back on 169 to the turn-off for the bonus. Gravel road. I hate gravel. Bonus location. Ole Boxrud got his ticket punched in the 1800’s during an Indian attack. Sign says he was the only one killed. (Does this mean no Indians were killed?)
On south to Iowa. Start running into something that will haunt me the whole trip. A strong southerly crosswind. Love my Windjammer, but in this case it becomes a liability. My top speed is limited due to wind resistance, and gas mileage is reduced.
Le Mars, IA. Ice Cream Capital of the US. Home of Blue Bunny Ice Cream. Through town (stop for gas? No, not yet). Out of town, engine sputters and I hit reserve. Back to town. This will be the theme for the rest of the trip—I will hit reserve just as I have passed a convenient gas stop. But I can no longer plan just how far I can get on a tank.
Coming into Sioux City on US 75, I find Floyd Blvd. Follow this to the park with the 33 ft. Jesus. Copy the biblical inscription. (If you try to take this straight from the Bible (any version), you will get it wrong.) Back to Floyd Blvd., over to I-29. South to Council Bluffs. Hit reserve just as I get to the turn off for the bonus location, the Lewis and Clark Monument. Up the hill, find the monument, get info, take pictures. Beautiful view over the Missouri River. Coast most of the way down the hill. Can’t get on I-29 South. Go north to first crossover (NO U-TURNS), make a U-turn and head south for a gas station.
Check maps for next bonus location. South on I-29 to I-80 West. 2nd stupid mistake. Get off in Omaha, then back on I-80 East. Gut tells me to take Exit 5, in Council Bluffs, but I keep going East until I reach the US 6 intersection, then back West. Taking Exit 5 would have saved me 10 miles, and 20 minutes. Find street for monument. Reminds me of San Francisco. Leave bike in gear, so it won’t roll backwards downhill. Get bonus info. Should have taken a picture.
Now for the long haul.
Crossing back into NE, a semi puts on it’s left blinker at the same time as I see the front tire turning. #@!!&*@$%. Stuck behind this guy for miles. Finally wind up doing the three-lane quickstep to get around the truck and other slow traffic.
Down I-80 to Lincoln. Lady in a big SUV looks at her speedo and gives me a dirty look as I pass on the right (along with everyone else).
I start fantasizing about a laminated card that should be mailed with every driver’s license: ‘When driving at the speed limit in the left lane of a multi-lane highway, occasionally glance at your rear view mirrors. Those are the pieces of reflective glass mounted inside and/or outside your vehicle that allow you to observe what is happening behind your vehicle. Is there a line of traffic behind you? Are people passing you on the right? As they go by are they giving you the Rigid Digit salute? Are they mouthing obscenities? Are they waving knives or guns in your direction? Perhaps you should give consideration to moving to the furthest right hand lane.’
Heading west, the sun is going down, but my face is already burned. I pass Grand Island, North Platte, and finally reach Ogallala. This is where I will change to US 26 for the last leg to Scottsbluff. Stop for gas, $1.69 a gallon. Prices have been climbing as I travel west. Get a Pepsi, and cross a bridge over railroad tracks on NE 61. As soon as I cross the bridge, there is a gas station. $1.49/gal. #@!!&*@$%.
Out of town on US 26. What are those headlights coming my way? Why won’t he dim? Oh, it’s a train. I will parallel the tracks halfway to Scottsbluff. A real pain trying to differentiate between oncoming traffic and eastbound coal trains.
Beautiful night. Warm and clear. I make Scottsbluff a few minutes after midnight CST. Fill up at the first gas station inside the city limits, and get my receipt to claim the bonus points. The restaurant at the gas station has just closed. I take a 10-minute break and assess my situation.
I am two hours behind schedule. The crosswind has slowed me down, and reduced my gas mileage to around 30-mpg. Usually, I can get 40-45 on the highway. My top end at times has been reduced to 70 mph. I love my ‘Jammer and bags, but they all tend to catch the wind. At this point, I decide to head up through Chadron, NE to Keystone, SD, then to Rapid City and I-90. Deadwood is out, plus any chance of making Montana for a bonus.
North out of Scottsbluff on NE 71. The road climbs and climbs and climbs. It is getting cold. I finally stop and go to Stage One Anti-cold. Zip my jacket all the way up, zip sleeves down, and put on light gloves. Just enough protection to keep me toasty.
Wait a minute. What’s that flash I just saw to the East? The Weather Channel said there was no chance of rain, so I left my rain gear home. Joy.
North on NE 71 to US 20. I keep seeing the flashes. They are moving around. Oh, well, I’ve ridden wet before. East on US 20. I see cloud to cloud lightning in front of me. As I head east, the other flashes get brighter. It’s been about an hour and a half since I left Scottsbluff. I see a gas station ahead as I pass through Whitney. It’s a 24-hr. pay at the pump station. Better get gas.
Stick in my cash card. The pump tells me ‘See attendant’. Right. The store is closed. Try another pump. Get the same message. Look at my watch. 0140 on Sunday morning. Oh, great. My bank is doing its weekly computer update. No telling how long before I will be able to use my cash card again. It’s warm enough to back to Stage Zero on the clothing.
Keep heading east towards Chadron. Flashes are getting brighter ahead; I see more off to the ESE. Suddenly, I see a flash of Green light reflected from the clouds. It’s an Airport. But these are the brightest airport searchlights I can remember. It is another 10 miles before I get to the Chadron airport. Close up, the searchlights sweep the road, too. NE 71 heads north, but I need gas, so I head into Chadron. There are several 24 hr. convenience stores with gas. I put into one, and try my cash card. No luck. Fill my tank, then pay cash. Get the receipt, make a pit stop, get a fruit pie and a bottle of Pepsi. Back to the bike, and annotate the mileage on the back of the receipt. (All my receipts are annotated. I will do the fuel log when I get back). Eat my pie, sip some Pepsi, and do my reality check.
Off into the night, and my Close Encounter of the Bambi Kind.
A miracle. I am still upright. My headlight is on. My ‘Jammer seems intact. It takes me a few seconds to get the bike under firm control, but longer to pry me hands loose from the grips. I stop, and let some of the adrenaline drain off. Then I turn around to check Bambi (also to pull out the seat and change my shorts).
Bambi had jumped out of the woods on the North side of the highway, over the ditch, and was halfway across the left lane before he even registered on my radarscope. He had his head down, and kept walking across into my lane. I got almost to the edge of the road before the impact. My bike got real squirrelly and I was not sure I could hold it. My guardian angel was really working overtime.
I find Bambi lying on the right side of the right lane, and his head is pointing North. The impact had flipped him 180o. He is not breathing. I get out my camera, and take flash pictures. I take another from behind the bike. I can see a mile marker, which says 65.
I get out a flashlight, and check my bike. It appears that since Bambi had his head down, it was low enough to get under the angle of the ‘Jammer. I see some scrapes, but it is the lip at the end of the fairing that took the main blow. There is a crack running from the bottom of the fairing up to where it starts curving forward. The crack extends up the inside of the fairing across the end of the left storage compartment.
Further back, I find my left saddlebag askew. The front mount is broken. The bag has been shoved back and twisted on the other two mounts. The outside front corner of the lid is cracked, and inside the lid the damage is more apparent. The clearance light I had mounted on the side of the bag is destroyed.
Impacts on both the front and side explain why my bike got so squirrelly, and I am even more thankful. I spend 15-20 minutes checking my bike and getting my nerves settled down. Maybe Smokey did know something.
I leave Bambi, with a prayer for forgiveness. I usually hunt with guns, not motorcycles. This is the edge of the Rosebud Reservation. Any bets on the body being there at dawn?
From there on, I am paranoid. Nebraska has lots of roadside reflectors. I flinch every time my headlight catches one. As I go through Merriman, one of Bambi’s relatives leaps from the right, and runs across the road. I am far enough away that I can brake. Another notch up on the paranoid meter.
Between Chadron and Valentine, I pass 1000 miles. Later I find out I can claim an SS1000 for this milestone.
At Valentine I stop for gas, then head north to Murdo, SD. US 83 north from Valentine quickly becomes 20 miles of speed bumps, followed by assorted potholes, ridges, patches, and other not so nice surfaces.
At the State Line, I see the Rosebud Casino. The way my luck has held, I am tempted to stop. I should be able to win a fortune.
After about an hour, I start looking for a tree. Finally see a sign for a rest stop. Pull in, sidestand down, shut off engine, dismount, remove helmet, then look up and see I am right under a Handicapped Parking sign. It’s 3 AM. Screw it. Find the MENS pit, then off again. No ticket.
Murdo at last, and the Superslab. Gas up (stopped here going to and from Sturgis), and finally find a wedding present for Howie and Estele (you had to be on the rally to understand).
Onto I-90, and home. I have a chance of making it by noon. My bike has not missed a beat all night.
Chamberlain coming up. Wasn’t there a bonus at the rest stop? Get off I-90, and check my bonus sheets. Can’t find it. So tired I can hardly read. (Later I would find it was a bonus stop on the GSS sheet.) Back to the highway.
The crosswind that was against me Saturday is back. At times it is over 30 mph. There goes my top end and gas mileage again.
As I approach White Lake, SD, I hit reserve. Pull off and look for the promised ’24 hr Pay at the Pump’. When I determine which of the two stations it is, it takes awhile to figure out their furshluginer system. Finally able to fill up, then back to the highway. Past Mitchell, then Sioux Falls, then across the state line to MN. Time is looking good. The crosswind has dropped off, so my top end is back. My speedo tops out at 85 mph, at @6200 rpm. I am taching close to 7500. Pass an exit with lots of gas stations. Try to make it to Luverne. I have made it there on the way back from Sturgis. Suddenly, the engine sputters. No problem. Reach down to go to reserve. Problem. Mistake #3. At White Lake, I did not change the gas cock back to Main. This has Did Not Finish written all over it.
Coast up the next exit ramp. This is my 4th, and fatal, mistake.
Get out the cell phone, and call AAA. They will send someone. Called TeamStrange to tell them I will not make it back in time, but I am OK. AAA calls back, and says it will be about 45 minutes. It winds up an hour and a half before gas arrives. Had I stayed on the Interstate, one of the multitude of bikers going by would surely has given me a ride to a gas station and back. I am so tired the obvious answer eludes me—push the bike across the road to the entrance ramp, and coast down the entrance ramp.
By the time I get gas, it is too late to make it back within the rally time limits. I continue on, in hopes of getting back for the post-rally BBQ. At Worthington, I head Northeast on MN 60 to US 169, backtracking my route of just over 24 hours ago. Stop in Madelia for gas. Go in for a Pepsi and snack. When I come out, I find my bike has been marking its territory.
I had planned to stop in Mankato for a sandwich, and the bonus points, but now it is irrelevant. Stop for gas, just to finish the trip.
It is 1330 when I pull into TrackStar Motorsports, the end point of the rally. Check-in stopped at 11:59:59. I get chewed out by one of the riders for leaking oil on the driveway. He says it is dangerous for other riders. Am I chopped liver?
I looked up Adam Wolkoff. Although I did not finish, I logged 1624.4 miles, in 27-½ hrs. It is enough for an Iron Butt Association Bun Burner Award.
The food is gone. I am tired. My bike is tired. Something is wrong—Jap bikes don’t leak. So I decide to just pack it in, and head for home. Get a nap, and then get Smokey. It has been a fun-filled, frustrating weekend, and I can’t wait to try it again.
Oh, yeah. As I was passing thru Jordan, MN, on the last leg, I got behind another SUV that would not pull over. He is matching speed with the right lane. I finally get a break and pass on the right, shooting the gap to get in front of this turkey.
I hit road construction, so the SUV is able to pull up next to me. The driver rolls down his window, and asks ‘Are you crazy?’
I reflect on the last 27 hours. 1500+ miles on no sleep and little food, hit and killed a deer, and my bike is leaking oil. I just grin back at this turkey, and say ‘Yup’.
Honda
1, Bambi 0
Vetter built good products. Shoei bag was damaged.
Smokey, the cat. Doesn’t he look innocent?