Posted: 23 June 2007 at 2:40pm | IP Logged

Total nightfall was no more than twenty minutes away and I was stuck in one of biggest traffic jams in recent memory. The entire east bound section of the PA turnpike (RT76) had been shut down because of a fatal accident. I was only fifteen miles from my 5^th (out of seven) mandatory stop, the Valley Forge exit service plaza. All traffic was being diverted off the turnpike, at less than a snails pace. On top of all that a giant dark cloud was forming overhead, one of the possible “isolated showers” that I had pooh, poohed, as I had no rain suit.

             I had already completed well over eight hundred and fifty miles of the one thousand and eight-six miles of the “MTF” sponsored “Hatfield Saddlesore 1000” route. If I was lucky the detour would cost me an hour of wasted time, and there I was only twenty-five miles from home with over two hundred miles to go. Those two hundred miles would be a jaunt into the mountains and to the very end of RT476 (northeast extension of the PA turnpike) and back down again to the finish. The chances of doing the two hundred plus miles at night without encountering a deer, raccoon, or possum on the road was as likely as not running into a crooked politician during a visit to congress.

             As I moved at a yard a minute pace through the initial stages of the detour, it occurred to me why long distance motorcycle riders are dominated by middle-age folk. I should have just gone home and been happy with my accomplishment, but that ain’t the way I was brought up. I was going to finish the ride, out of pure stubbornness and the refusal to quit. You don’t get to be “really” stubborn when you are young. That comes with age!

             Let me digress a moment and described how I got to the “fork in the road” with two hundred miles to go.

             My wife’s and my daily commutes were each less than fifteen miles round-trip, and our schedules allowed for the use of only one car. When my wife took a job with a forty miles round trip route, our schedules were no longer in sync. Instead of getting a second cheap car for my needs, I decided to re-visit the two wheel days of my youth. I purchased a 1986 Honda Elite 250 (250cc) scooter and was as happy as a mouse in a cheese factory.

             A series of events followed, however, that would change my life forever and put me in the mist of a traffic jam at the tail end of an “Iron Butt” ride.

             I ran into a bunch of scooter riders at a July fourth scooter rally, and that gave me the bug to do group rides. That was fun for awhile, but the rally fever made me take the next step up and ride to a scooter rally over two hundred miles away, with the route being all highway or interstate. The ride was exhilarating, and I was surprise to find that the little ten inch wheeled scooter could keep up with right lane traffic.

             The next year a group of riders with so called “maxi” scooters (250cc and up) decided to ride from Philadelphia to Cincinnati, OH to a large rally. It would be an all interstate ride going (route 76 to 70 to 71), and a more scenic ride back (mostly route 50) through WV. Everyone was leery of doing the 600 miles in one day so it was decided to do about 220 miles Thursday evening after work and the remainder on Friday. I don’t like to ride at night and couldn’t get out of a job commitment, so I decided to leave early Friday morning and meet the rest of the riders at the 220 mile point and ride in together from there. I would be doing 600 miles, all interstate on a 10” wheel little scooter!

             All the other riders had more modern and faster bikes than me. I decided with a few weeks to go to purchase a large wheel (16”) Kymco P250 scooter that weighed in at a whopping scooter weight of 370 lbs and was very stable on the highway. I did the ride (600 miles) in 14 hours, and was both elated and annoyed. I was the odd duck as my fellow riders stopped long and often, took an hour lunch, etc.  I wanted to keep it rolling with minimum stops. The seeds of doing longer rides, alone, were born.

             I inevitably discovered the “Iron Butt Association” I found great pleasure vicariously through the stories and exploits of the “Iron Butt” riders. I knew I was iron butt material but I preferred to do my SS1000 as part of an organized ride, and not of my own making. I found out quickly you had to register months in advance for most of the popular events that were reasonably close to me. Finally the MTF “Hatfield SS1000” happened and I was determined to ride.

             The route was an “in state” route and pretty brutal. It was the four corners type and required a little off the interstate searching, for the seven mandatory stops. The route was made even harder by the fact it was almost totally mountainous. True we weren’t talking about the Rockies, but the ups and downs (mostly ups) would be steep enough.

             On the a more flat route my P250 would have been okay, but it was a little under powered to be taking on the mountains for 1,000 miles. The sealer against the P250 was the small gas tank of 2 gallons capacity. Running at or near full throttle the entire trip would cut the effective range down to 90-100 miles.

             With a few weeks to go before the Hatfield SS1000 I ran across a nearly new (2006) Suzuki Burgman 400 maxi scooter and grabbed it on the cheap; as the owner had bought it as a toy, laid it down a couple of times in his driveway, and decided to sell it and buy a BMW two-seater convertible. I now had 150 mile range even in the mountains, speed to stay with any reasonable traffic, more weight (407 lbs dry), but alas smaller wheels (13”).

             The morning of the ride I got up at 4:30 am and had planned on getting to the starting point by 5:30 and leave promptly as close to 6:00 am as possible. As it turned out, I got out of my house late, and barely got to Montgomeryville Cycles (Hatfield, PA) by 6:00 am starting time. The initial signups had been as high as 18, but was down to 13 on d-day. I believe I was the next to the last to arrive.

             All I saw in my brief scan of bikes were big HDs, assorted other heavy cruisers, a Gwing or two and a couple of 1200-1300cc sports tourers. Everyone looked at me too stun to speak. The site director was a real nice fellow named Donald Jones, and he looked more worried than sunned as he knew I was coming. I think he was very concerned about having to send medi-vac out for me somewhere along route 80.

             My personality is basically like a Labrador, or Irish setter.  I like people; get along with all and can take a lot abuse without snapping. When it comes to events like the SS1000, however, and I am an underdog; I become all Terrier.

             I was one of the last to pull out of the starting gas station, but I arrive at the first mandatory stop among the leaders. I had passed a group of HD riders who had stopped at the last turnpike exit to put on warmer clothes. There were actually two Sunoco station in the small town (Clarkes Summit, PA) and I and one of the St1300/K1200(?) riders was at the correct station. Others had stopped at the other station. I had heard stories about people losing points or credit for rides because they failed to do the right thing and I was paranoid the whole ride which cost me time.

             Several mandatory stop specified gas stations were closed, gone, or renovating. I wasted time searching for places that didn’t exist, not understanding that any substitute station in the general vicinity was okay to use. I had no choice but to use substitutes, but I worried about it the whole ride.

             I didn’t see any other fellow riders again until around the 580 mile mark. I caught up with the St1300/K1200 (?) rider I had seen at the first gas stop, along with two HD riders that seemed to be very experienced rider’s and on a mission. I dogged the HD riders for as long as I dared. They eventually decided to flick me aside like a flea, as the big twins took the speed higher and higher. I could have hung all the way to traffic ticket time, but I understood the HDs didn’t want to be dogged by a scooter so out of respect I backed off.

             The ST1300/K1200 ride didn’t care that both the HDs and I passed him. He maintained a steady speed, and with that big gas tank of his, he knew what the outcome would be. I ran into the two HDs riders at my next gas stop. They were friendlier, as I think they respected my tenacity. I have always admired and respected HD for all they represent and have given to two-wheel-travel, here and abroad. I felt honored to be riding in a field of such legendary bikes as the HDs, Goldwings, ST1300, K1200, Yamaha Stars, etc. The terrier in me, however, also wanted to beat as many as possible to the finish line!

             I took a little time to drink and eat some peanut butter crackers and stretch my legs. The two HD riders and the ST1300/K1200 rider (didn’t need to stop for gas) were way down the road before I hit the slab again heading for mandatory stop number 5 – Valley Forge service center.

             I am now at where my story began in the mist of a massive traffic jam, fifteen miles from the Valley Forge service center.

             My work-around plan was to take rt100 to rt30 to rt202 to rt76 to rt476. I was running low on gas so I had to get off rt202 and find gas on rt29. By the time I arrived at the turnpike entrance (rt476) it was 10:00 pm, exactly an hour had been lost due to the detour.

             My original calculations had me heading back down rt476 towards the finish around 10:00 pm, and I was just getting started. It was depressing so I knew I couldn’t think about it, I just had to ride.

             I pulled into the 6^th, and next to the last stop, and found it closed. I would have panicked, except I knew that others had used the “other” Sunoco earlier, so it was likely alright to use, especially since the MTF guidelines stated it was okay under my circumstances.

             At the “other” station one of the two HD riders was finishing gassing up. We had a friendly exchange as he had lost his riding partner. At that point both of us had done almost 1,000 miles and there was an unspoken camaraderie. 

             I was tired and somewhat in a daze as I headed down rt746 for the final time. I should have stopped and check the map to see which was the best exit to get off. I was afraid to stop, as I might never get started again, so I road passed the best exit to an exit I knew and lost another 25 minutes.

             The final check-in station was closed, but I was so out of it, I parked my scooter, unscrewed the gas cap, and inserted my credit card. It took a couple of reject “check with cashier inside” before my brain figured out the station was closed. I even tried the doors, not believing it was really closed. By the time I was back in the saddle, heading out in search of an alternative gas station, I heard the roar of at least one HD, and knew that I had lost at least one finishing place and probably more.

             I arrived at final checkout and I expected to see 10-12 bikes, but only saw three. I was elated that I had made it, but somewhat disappointed that I was probably the last one. Donald Jones went right to work and set me up so I could get my receipts mounted in an orderly fashion on paper and photocopied. He signed my witness form and made copies of all paper work. I was done. I had ridden, odometer wise, 1,114 miles in 20 hours. I was an “Iron Butt”!!

             I never knew the official order of finishers, but I believe the “steady pace” ST1300/K1200 rider was number one and the two HD riders I had dogged were 2-3. I definitely was 4. In reality another rider had left early and finished early so I was number 5 and that was good enough for me.

             After doing a SS1000 people either love it and become addicted, or swear to never do one again.

             “Hello, my name is Jerome”

             (Audience) “Hello Jerome”

             “I am a long distance riding addict.”

             {Audience) “Welcome”

Posted: 23 June 2007 at 4:09pm | IP Logged

Mungo Jerry, I don't care what you ride! That was one great story. I myself finished my first (and definatey not last) SS1000 in early May. As you say, you either love 'em or hate 'em. For me it was love at first sight! Anyway a great job on any machine ... let alone a scoot!

Posted: 23 June 2007 at 6:13pm | IP Logged

Thanks Big Duck!

It was quite a thrill. I don't know where the journey will take me, but I know I will try other rides like the BB1500, and perhaps 50cc. The BBG1500, and the upcoming MTF sponsored 50cc "gold" are really brutal rides. I will probably need a couple of SS1000s under the belt to consider them. I would also probably need a little more iron to sit on.

Hope to see you on the road one day, ride safe.

Jerome

Posted: 23 June 2007 at 6:35pm | IP Logged

Congratulations.  Great story.  I have seen a scooter or two on the interstates, but not many.  You are a unique individual riding a different machine.  I would be proud to ride with you any day.

Dan

Posted: 23 June 2007 at 6:59pm | IP Logged

Thanks Dan!

I enjoyed your planning and ride report. I may ride down to Daytona Bike Week spring 2008. If I do, I hope to meet you. 

Jerome

Posted: 23 June 2007 at 7:32pm | IP Logged

That would be great.  I don't usually go to Daytona, but if you come down let me know and I'll ride over for the day if I can.

Dan

Posted: 23 June 2007 at 9:54pm | IP Logged

Thanks for the heads up Chip!

I am begiining to realize you have to register, for everything IBA related, months in advance to insure making the cut. This is okay and good to know.

Daytona is really not my scene (as I perceive it), but being able to attend an IBA event makes it almost a must run for me, work permitting.

I did my SS1000 the same week that Americade was running, otherwise I would have gone. I relate more to touring/long distance riding than burn-outs, choppers, and posing. I, however, believe to each his own and support two wheel transport in all its many facits.

Thanks, again for the heads up.

Jerome