Posted: 08 April 2007 at 5:11pm | IP Logged

In the spring, a young man’s fancy turns to young ladies.  Us older guys, however….. well, some of us think of new motorcycles.  Actually, I’d been thinking about a new ride since last season ended, but my situation is a bit more complicated than most.  I’m an American expatriate working in Toronto for the past 4 years, but expecting my next work assignment to take me out of the country before this summer’s end.  If I were to buy that new bike in Canada, it would have a speedometer/odometer in kilometers, making it that much more difficult to trade in some years from now when I’m back in the States (I know that from experience).  Harley, however, seems to actively discourage its US dealers from selling a bike to a non-resident for whatever reason, so buying from a US dealer close to Toronto was not going to happen.  Another option would be to wait until my return to the States, but you know how it goes – you get an idea in your head and it just won’t leave.

The planning began.  My mother still lives in Iowa, so it was easy enough to claim a local address there.  As far as my dealer knew, he was selling a bike to a local resident, but it would mean a bit of a ride back to Toronto.  Bringing a bike into Canada is a 2-part process.  First, you have to “get permission” from US Customs to export the vehicle, faxing proof 72 hours before your expected crossing that the bike is yours and there are no liens (or the lienholder gives you permission to cross).  You present your bike and your paperwork, they stamp the title, and you’re good to go.  Then, you present the bike and the stamped title to Canadian Customs, fill out a form, pay some fees, continue on your way, and then wait for the process to grind out over the next 45 days (compliance modifications, inspection & licensing).  Sounded easy enough.

I put a down-payment on a 2007 Ultra during a Christmas visit home, and asked for an April 9^th “have ready” date - no use having a bike without the right weather to ride in.  My dealer said he’d assign a bike scheduled for delivery in late March, and have it ready for Easter weekend.  When the H-D strike came, I called to make sure I’d still have a bike and he told me he just had one come in my color – black, of course – and he’d put my name on it, even though he knew I wouldn’t be picking it up for 2 months. 

Customs only allows exports at certain crossing points, so as I was looking at potential routes, crossing at the Lewiston-Queenston bridge north of Niagara Falls looked like the best place to face Customs.  A direct route from my hometown would be about 700 miles, but it would take me along the bottom edge of the Great Lakes – not necessarily a warm or dry place to be riding in April, so I thought about detouring to the south to gain whatever weather advantages I could.

It was about this time that I came across an article in some motorcycle magazine about the Iron Butt Association, and then the stars began to magically align.

You see, if I rode south the route could become 1,000 miles and that would allow me to have the 1,000 mile service in Buffalo, burning up some of the 72 hour Customs waiting period, the bike would be through its break-in period, and I’d get a new patch and pin all at the same time!  Cool!

I plotted a route through Peoria, Indianapolis, and Dayton, turning the southern “corner” at Charleston, WV, and then up through Pittsburgh to Buffalo.  I would drive to my mom’s on Good Friday, spend time with Mom over the weekend, pick up the bike on Monday, do a shake-down cruise to J&P Cycles in Anamosa on Tuesday (assuming I had any money left over!), ride a SaddleSore on Wednesday, have the 1,000 mile service in Buffalo in Thursday, and cross the border on Friday.  Seemed like such a tidy plan.

Then work got in the way.  I originally planned for the week of April 8^th, but schedule conflicts weren’t going to let that happen.  The week of March 25^th was Spring Break for both my kids in university, and we had our family vacation already scheduled.  I could wait for the week of April 15^th, but the bike was already ready and I’m not the waiting type.  Besides, Friday the 13^th in Port Dover, Ontario is a Canadian motorcycle event that you just can’t miss.  What else could I do except get home from vacation Saturday night the 31st, drive to Iowa on Sunday, and pick up the bike on Monday?  Since Good Friday would be a holiday for Customs, I would have to forgo the shake-down cruise to J&P, but I could still ride the SS1000 on Tuesday, have the service on Wednesday and cross on Thursday.  It’d just be tight.

Then Mother Nature got in the way.  As we sat watching The Weather Channel Sunday night in Iowa, MAJOR thunderstorms with golf-ball sized hail were expected across the Midwest starting Tuesday morning.  If I delayed a day and left on Wednesday, the cold front that followed was expected to drop temperatures 20-25 degrees, and then I’d have to get the service done and cross the border on Thursday since both countries’ Customs offices would be closed on Friday.  If I had any problems either with the break-in or the SaddleSore, I’d be stuck in Buffalo until the following Monday.  Or I could leave Monday afternoon, immediately after taking possession of a brand new bike.

Of course, I decided to leave that Monday afternoon (sorry for the short visit, Mom).  At 13:44 CDT and with only 10 miles on the odometer, I got my first time-stamped gas receipt and headed southeast.  The first many hours of the ride were uneventful, though rather fatiguing.  I was staying true to the break-in schedule, varying the rpm’s between 2k and 3k, and slowing down often (when it was safe) to shift through all the gears, but that wasn’t a way to make good time.  I’d been listening to the NOAA weather stations on the radio along the way and kept going until the local forecasts didn’t begin with “thundershowers expected in the morning”.  At 22:00 EDT, I called it a night and checked into a Hampton Inn at the north edge of Dayton.

I had been doing the mental math along the way, and decided that if I got up at 03:00 am, I could still complete the SS1000 in 24 hours.  That next morning, The Weather Channel showed local temps already at 56 degrees, so I put the Gerbing jacket and pants in the saddlebags, put on the leathers, and headed out.

I immediately got lost in the road construction in Dayton, with sections of US35 closed, and entrance ramps blocked.  Finally turned in the right direction, I decided I better gas up before heading into the countryside.  OK, that would have been a better decision the night before, or at the gas station right next to the Hampton Inn in the morning, but that would have been too easy.  So here I was at 04:00 am, in a seedy part of Dayton, with a gas station pump that spit out receipts without addresses.  I went into C-Store to ask the clerk for the address, but he refused to get off his phone from behind the bullet-proof glass, and angrily waved me away.  Maybe being in black leathers and helmet, at that hour and in that neighborhood, scared the young man.  In any event, I hope that the powers-that-be who review my submission will excuse that one missing address.

Now I know what meteorologists mean when they talk about a city’s heat island effect.  Shortly after leaving the city limits of Dayton, the temperatures started falling.  And falling.  And falling.  About an hour out of town, I stopped to exchange my leather jacket for my Gerbing Cascade.  Thirty minutes later, I stopped to add the gloves, and to finally plug in.  Temps were hovering around 40 degrees, I was cold, and to be honest, I was getting a bit discouraged with my progress.  At one point, I even had the Zumo calculate a route directly to home, cutting the SS1000 short, but 1 mile before the go/no-go point, I called back up the original route and continued southeast to West Virginia.  Darn it, I decided I was going to do the 1,000 miles, even if I couldn’t get it down within the time limits.

It’s amazing how much one’s attitude and outlook improves with sunrise, but improve it did, and by 06:45, I was crossing the West Virginia state line.  Forty-five minutes later I was gassing up at my southern corner, and heading up I-79. I was re-energized.

Who’da thunk that Charleston, WV would have a rush hour?  Certainly not me, but next thing you know, there I was going nowhere fast.  Got a bit anxious watching time disappear, but finally got through town and then sailed on.  Even on a superslab, western West Virginia is a pretty area.  I’d never been there before, and couldn’t afford to spend any time on this trip, but I made a mental note to plan a return visit some day.

Now I began constantly mentally calculating/recalculating ending options.  I’d burned up time with the break-in process, never once used the cruise control, my gas stops were not nearly as efficient as they should have been, getting into and out of the hotel took much longer than I wanted, and getting lost in Dayton just aggravated things.  I had originally planned to go through Xenia, Ohio (ABC’s of Touring, anyone?) but cut that loop off.  Together with the wasted mileage in Dayton’s construction, I didn’t know exactly how many miles on my odometer would not count towards a shortest-distance SS1000, so I now began planning for putting on “insurance miles”.  Last thing I wanted to do was end the ride and come up short.

I crossed 1,000 miles somewhere slightly east of Erie, Pennsylvania, continuing east onto the New York State Thruway.  I suddenly began wondering if the Service Islands on the Thruway would have verifiable addresses for mileage purposes and, not wanting to take a chance, decided to exit at the Angola exit at 23:35 into the ride, hoping to find a gas station nearby.  I asked the toll agent where the nearest gas was, and she told me “take a right at the stop sign and it’s on the corner”.  She forgot to tell me that “the corner” was 2 miles away!  By that time, I was sweating bullets trying to get a receipt before the 24 hour mark and I did – with 15 minutes to spare!

As I walked into the C-Store to find a witness, I saw what I took to be a great omen – standing behind the cash register was an older gentleman with a Harley-Davidson t-shirt on!  I started my explanation about being on a timed motorcycle ride, and had he ever heard of the Iron Butt Association, when he told me that “yes, me and my buddies have always been meaning to do one of those someday”.  Well, Phil, THANK YOU for your signature!

It’s Sunday, now.  Finished the ride Tuesday afternoon, had the bike serviced in Buffalo on Wednesday, crossed the border on Thursday (the easiest part of the trip) and collapsed in my own bed Thursday night.  Finished the SS1000 paperwork this morning, and the envelope goes out in tomorrow’s mail.  Did 1,062 odometer miles (1,049 GPS miles) in 23:45.  Broke in my new bike, and averaged 37 mpg – hopefully that’ll improve in normal riding.

The ride wasn’t as hard as I feared it could be, but it sure wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped it would be, either.  I learned a lot about what not to do on the next one – need to make my stops much more efficient and effective.  Plug in the heated gear BEFORE I get cold.  And keep a positive mental attitude.

Oh well, 3 of my friends and I have a Lower Lakes 1000 and a Lake Huron 1000 planned for early summer, so let’s hope this one was the first of many.