OK I guess I will write up my report about my Saddle Sore 1000.

I decided to ride to Missouri to buy that Kenworth motorhome.

I figured since it was a motorhome and a trailer I can gear up, ride the 1100 miles to St. Peters, Missouri, load the bike in the trailer and take a nice leisurely two day drive back home. I decided to take the Falco over the Speed Triple. I figured I might want the windscreen and bodywork in case the weather got ugly.

I did some basic maintenance on bike. Oil change, side stand switch, put on a new, but slightly used, Bridgestone BT 010. That was pretty much it for routine maintenance, now to get the bike ready for the trip.

I ran a power supply for the Chatterbox and then also took a cigarette lighter extension cord and hacked the male end off (I did the John Wayne Bobbitt on that mutha) Then added a cigarette lighter splitter so I can run two different accessories. I figured one for my GPS and another for my radar detector.

I bought the radar detector just for this trip. Actually I bought two because the first guy who promised to get it to me in a week failed so I had to buy another and had the second guy overnight it so I could have it before I left.

The first guy sucks ass, the second guy was cool.

I mounted my Aprilia tank bag, then my Tour Master saddlebags, and tail bag, to the bike.

Nick lent me a small piece of gel padding that is allegedly the same material that they use to make beds for coma patients so that they don’t get bedsores.

A friend of his was a salesman for a company that made the beds and had a piece of gel as a sample and somehow Nick got his hands (and ass) on that.

I wrapped the padding in a plastic garbage bag and used some electrical tape to tape it to my seat. This made the seat height about two inches taller and gave a weird, uncomfortable feeling when leaning into a turn. Like the back end of the bike wasn’t planted and was squirming around on something slippery. Really it was a vicious combination of my ass sliding off the bag and the pad sliding around because of the material it’s made out of.

Kind of unsettling until you get used to it, and then it was still unsettling but at least you know what it was.

Once you get past that it was actually pretty comfy for your butt.

Nick had given me a 35 percent chance of making it.

I was kinda hurt.

Only 35%?!?!?!

Being that my longest ride to date was 232 miles to Bear Mt. and back on my 2000 KTM Duke 2.

It was nice of him to lend me the gel pad since he also bet me 50 bucks that I wouldn’t make it.

He was nice enough to tell me that if it started to snow I only had to pull over and get a picture of me, my bike, in the snow, and to make sure I got the plate in there. He told me stopping by a police station and getting a sworn affidavit wasn’t necessary.

I told him that if it started to snow I was gonna stay on the road and if I crashed and survived I would whisper my last words while I was being heliported to the hospital and they would’ve been, “Tell Nick I needed the fifty dollars.”

The bike was already wired for a Battery Tender, which is what I plugged my Widder electric clothes into, so I figured with my electric vest, arm chaps, leg chaps, and gloves. With my Duofold thermals, and my one-piece Tour Master suit I should be fine against the elements.

I planned on leaving Monday Nov. 18 at around 2 AM to beat New York City traffic and was hoping to be in Pennsylvania by the time the traffic in NYC really started.

The weather looked good up until the day before when I realized that if I left at 2 AM I was getting hit rain through New Jersey and then snow through Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and into the eastern part of Ohio.

I wanted to try to push back to 4:30 AM but it would have been the same.

While I was watching the Weather Channel, and checking Weather.com , I realized it was going to be really friggin’ cold on some of the trip.

I ended up wearing thermal socks, Duofold thermal pants, a Duofold thermal turtleneck, my Widder electric vest, electric arm chaps, electric chaps, electric gloves, sweatshirt, fleece lined pants, and my Tour Master one-piece jumpsuit.

Needless to say I looked like a short, black, Michelin tire man.

Not a pretty sight.

I ended up leaving at 9:07 AM Monday Nov. 18 with 4603 miles on the odometer.

OK, I had 24 hours to do 1000 miles, no problem

Let me just start by saying there’s ALWAYS traffic in New York City!

The first hour, no problem, 55 miles.

The next two hours, all kinds of problems, only another 60 miles.

Great, at this rate I’ll have to ride for 24 hours straight only stopping for gas, no sleep, no meals, maybe a few pee breaks if I want to make it.

OK so I get stuck in traffic in Brooklyn, got lost on the way to the Varrenzos Bridge, by the time I realized it I was on the B.Q.E (Brooklyn-Queens Expressway) halfway to Queens (Not part of my plan, and definitely not good).

I finally make it through Staten Island and into Jersey and now I’m ready for my first gas stop.

First stop, Lenny's Car Care, NJ.

So now it’s a little after 12 noon and only 120 miles into my trip.

I seriously considered turning around and coming home but...

I need the fifty dollars.

So now I got on the road and was actually able to eat up some miles.

I just put my head down and tried to keep track of mileage so that I’d know where to start looking for gas stops.

That turned out pretty good considering that one of my stops in Pennsylvania said next stop 36 miles and I knew my low fuel light was about to come on and I don’t know if I would’ve made it the next stop.

Roughly the hour and a half it took me across Jersey, and the five hours across Pennsylvania, were pretty much a blur.

Third stop, Funck's Mini Mart

Rest stop Bedford, PA.

I stopped in Wheeler, WV to get gas and I had to pull out a second pair of socks because my feet were numb.

I unplugged my GPS hoping that the few extra milliamps that it was drawing would get me an extra degree out of my electric clothes.

No dice!

Dairy Queen Wheeling, WV.

Bags all loaded up in West "By God" Virginia.

It took about three hours for me to drive through Ohio and right about the time I crossed into Indiana it started to rain.

Another Sunoco in Columbus, OH.

By my guesstimation there was no way could have been raining, it had to be snow.

It must have been 33 degrees.

So I wasn’t sure whether the bridges were going to freeze or if the cold was just an illusion but it was just about 15 hours since I had left and decided it is probably time for break. I wasn’t mentally sharp enough to ride in that cold rain.

I forgot the name of the town that I pulled over in for gas and bought two bean burritos from Taco Bell and drove to find the Best Western that was supposed to be two and a half miles down the road. Then at the end of the road, at the three-mile mark, without a light insight, I decided to turn around and get back on I-70 and keep heading west.

After about another 45 miles to exit 104 (Greenfield) where there are a few different signs for gas, lodging, food, etc.

My hotel room in Greenfield, IN

Stopping around midnight I pulled into Greenfield, Indiana and got a room for the night.

The curbs were too tall and I couldn’t figure out how to get my bike into the room. I drove around and looked for a piece of wood, brick, large stone, anything that would help me get the curbs but again, no dice.

At this point I was about 800 miles into my trip and I had eight hours to go 200 miles.

I wanted to clock in a few extra miles to cover of odometer error.

I figured if I was on the road by 5 am I could easily log 50 miles an hour, (with stops), for four hours to get my 1000 miles.

I took the bags off the bike and brought them into the room with me, stripped down to my thermals, while watching the Weather Channel, and fell asleep setting my alarm clock for 4 AM.

Just as I dozed off, I heard this annoying sound and I thought it was the heater in the room breaking but as I rolled around trying to find out what it was I realize it is connected to my wrist.

Yep, you guessed it 4 AM already.

I ended up getting about three hours of sleep.

Brushed my teeth, washed my face, started getting my gear back on, put the bags back on the Falco and headed out about 5 AM.

It was still dark, and cold, and I was running away from the sun. I swore it was never gonna rise, but that was only because I crossed into Illinois and the central time zone.

After the Best Western incident I went about another 45 miles to get to Greenfield and the hotel so I didn’t bother topping off the tank again. So after about another 90 miles or so and stopping for gas I had about 2 ½ hours left. I knew I couldn’t do it on one tank so I figured I would ride for an hour and fifteen minutes, then stop and ride for another hour and fifteen minutes and try to end as close to 9 AM as possible.

Before 9 AM I saw my turn off of I-70 to I-270 and it was getting close to 9 AM so I started to look for a gas stop around 10 minutes to 9.  I pulled into a gas station out in Pontoon Beach, IL. with my odometer reading 5676 miles. It was 1073 miles from when I left 24 hours ago.

I would’ve liked to take a longer nap, but after being stuck in traffic in Brooklyn and getting lost and almost driving to Queens and driving around in New Jersey looking for gas station I had no choice.

I called Lonnie and he gave me directions to McDonald’s by his house. I met him there and he bought me breakfast, which was my first meal since Sunday, and I followed him out to the Kenworth.

As soon as we pulled up and I saw the truck I’ve been Jonesing over since August, I thought about handing him a check for $48,000 and a large knot violently formed in my stomach.

I knew right then I couldn’t buy it. I looked around the truck and told him it was going to need a lot more then just wallpaper and carpeting. I tried to explain to him that carpeting and wallpaper is not work, it’s something you do when you’re bored. I showed him the plywood underneath the carpeting and behind the wallpaper that is beginning to rot and explained to him that within the next year, all of that would have to be ripped out and replaced.

If I buy a fixer upper for $48,000 a better come with property.

We jumped into his truck went to local Department of Motor Vehicles. I paid the six dollars for a three-day temporary registration.

The lady at DMV asked him for his title, than asked me my name and address and I said, “You’re not transferring ownership are you?”

And she said, “No, just giving you a temporary registration.” and I said ”Oh, OK good”

We drove his truck back to the Kenworth, put the temporary stickers in the window, and took it out on the highway for drive.

We stopped to fill up the tanks and get something to drink. He was cleaning the windshield and said, “I can tell that you’re kinda disappointed in it.” After a long pause I said, “Yeah, I am. It’s not in the condition that it is in the pictures, and it needs a lot more work that you think. Plus the trailer’s junk!”

We went to a pretty slow part of the highlight then we pulled over I jumped in the driver’s seat. Threw it into first and took it for a spin.

I’ve never driven anything like this before and I figured since I drove 1100 miles to see it, I might as well drive it.

It ran pretty good, shifted good, the chassis seemed fine, but it just needed too much work.

We drove the Kenworth back to where he was keeping it, which wasn’t his house, and then it hit me…

 I had to put all my stuff back on and ride home!!!

 At this point, the batteries in my MP3 player were dead and I didn’t bring the charger because I wouldn’t need it. I was gonna be driving home, right?

So I decided to hit Wal-Mart.

I bought the CD player with the most anti-skip protection, that came with a cigarette lighter plug and about six CDs. Then I drove across the street to Radio Shack to buy some wires I needed. I wired everything up and headed out on the road.  

That damn CD player was skipping before I was outta the parking lot. CRAP.

I figured that since I was working on only about 4 hours of sleep I would just try to ride a little to get past the traffic in St. Louis before looking for a room so I didn't screw myself with traffic the next morning.

I felt OK and I needed gas so I stopped and called home to let them know what was going on.

I talked to them for a while then I called Nick too.

I felt good enough to try and get through another tank before I called it a day.

Well, I got through about 3 tanks and I was back at exit 104 and I got the same hotel room as last night.

As I was getting into my room I REALLY wished that I could get the bike in the room and that's when I saw the 2 phone books. (DING!!! Light bulb going off!) 

Well, I obviously got the bike into the room. 

Before I did I topped off the tank, grabbed a soda and a bag of pretzels and flicked on the weather channel.

I took a nice hot shower, fell asleep got a few good hours and got up around 7 am.

I figured it would take me between 12 and 12 1/2 hours to get back to Newark airport in Jersey.

I wanted to miss as much traffic as I could through that armpit people call NYC so I figured an 8 am start would work well so I called home then headed out by eight.

I put my head down stayed off of the phone and let the bike eat up some miles.

Somewhere in PA my sidestand switch shit the bed.

I called Nick at work and he told me to jump the two outside wires.

I pulled the connector apart and safety wired the two outside wires together and taped over them. Then I put the third wire on top of the tape and taped over everything so I wouldn't short anything out.

I was back on the road in about 10 minutes.

Hammer down and I was at Newark airport at 6 pm.

DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW JACKED UP NEWARK, NEW JERSEY IS AT 6 FRIGGIN' PM?!?!?!

I got through traffic and got pack to my driveway at about 8:30 pm. I called home for the first time since that morning and I asked her to get me a phone number outta my van. When she opened up the garage to walk into the driveway to get it, there I was sitting in driveway on my Falco.

After talking to her about my trip for about an hour, I shut off like a switch.

That was my trip.

Since then I got my approval from the Iron Butt Association and my fity (ghetto fifty) from Nick.

So I guess that's the whole trip.

If ya have any questions, just ask.

Catfish "at" CatfishRacing "dot" com

This site last updated on:

06/21/2006