Gregg Burger

Ultrafirebike@yahoo.com

It’s been months since first hearing about the 100CCC Insanity group ride that was being put together by Alan Leduc on the Motorcycle Tourer’s Forum. I signed up after careful consideration and weighing all aspects of the ride. I was sure I am capable of making the ride, but the last thing I wanted to do is sign up and then drop out. Daily trips to the MTF Forum and reading numerous ride reports on the Iron Butt Association™ web site gave me the insight I hoped I needed to complete the task. I boldly clicked the link to the MTF Web Site and added my name to the steadily growing list of participants. Setting up a timeline allowed me to meet all tasks needed for the ride. The first obstacle was qualifying for such a ride. According to the IBA web site, some for the pre-requisites were out of my reach. I have never been in a rally or completed an official IBA Long Distance ride. I rode a lot of long days on my Harley Davidson Sportster 1200, and any distance on that could be doubled or tripled on my new bike. My new bike is a 2002 Harley Davidson Ultra Classic Firefighter Special Edition. I took possession, or it possessed me on June 6^th, 2002. In the first few months, my wife Linda and I have traveled to Maine, Canada, Illinois, North Carolina, and the entire length of the Skyline Drive / Blue Ridge Parkway from Cherokee NC, to Front Royal VA. We’ve collected ABC’s of Touring for the Harley Owner’s Group, and I’ve posed for pictures in front of Firehouses starting with letters A through Z.

The countdown continued and when the 100CCC was a few weeks away, I took the bike in for it’s 15,000 makeover. New front tire, fluids and once over. It snowed that weekend, which helped strengthen my back for the ride, but I was getting concerned about icy roads on the way down. I’ve been riding all winter with a local Polar Bear Club, so it’s never too long without a brisk ride. The days were getting longer while waiting for the ride to arrive, and you could tell by all the action on the forum. Everyone was making last minute preparations, asking interesting questions, and giving their own opinions based on experiences. There were a few last minute items I would need, so I set about in picking them up. I picked up a hydration system from Camelback®. One made for a backpack called the UnBottle .This is made to strap anywhere and holds 2 liters of liquid. My plan was to load it up with Gatorade®, then start adding water as it ran low, then replacing it with Gatorade again. This would allow me to get just as much water as electrolytes and not too much of either. I stopped by a sporting goods store, went to the camping section and picked up (2) 33oz. MSR bottles for carrying fuel. Since my tank holds 5 gallons, this gives me a range of about 150-190 miles depending on driving speed and wind direction/speed. The 2 bottles might give me an extra 15 miles or so, just enough to get to a station or find a safe place to stay for a while. I had worked out many different plans based on mileage with MS Streets and Trips (Sorry Mr. Gates, no free link here) and Alan had worked out many gas stops that were verified. I transferred these stops to a word document (see Appendix 1) and printed them out to take with me. I transferred my trip plans to a word document also and printed these out. OK, I printed out 2 copies of each, one copy safely stowed in my tour pack and the other where I could reach easily ( or lose easily). I have times for each location, time zones, all the things one can keep the mind busy analyzing during a long ride. I used my SS2000 as a test ride, taking my average speed of 72 mph with 15-minute gas stops as cushion and rest. I had purchased a waterproof map carrier for my sea kayak from SealLine® and used it to hold my current paperwork by clipping it with plastic clips to each side of my handlebars. This allows me to view information and maps during the day and keep re-figuring stops based on current mileage. Taking an old trick from the graphic arts trade, I bought a red grease pencil, also known as a China pencil so that I could mark the inside of my windshield with exit numbers at night. This allows me to look through the windshield into the lighted road and see my exits without fumbling for a flashlight.

With all my "tools" purchased and ready to go, I started assembling them in a staging area on the dining room table. For a complete list of these, see Appendix 2.

March 7^th, Friday night In keeping with the thought that you should never do anything new before a big ride, I started a few new things. My shifter had become loose the week before, so I tried tightening the bolt only to find it stripping. Not a big deal, I took off the back shifter, used that bolt, and used the stripped bolt on the easier to reach back shifter. I got a good grip on it all right, so good I snapped the bolt off to where it would have to be drilled and tapped out. I figured that would have to wait for another day or let it come off by itself. I finished staging everything, packed up the bike, Linda gave me a haircut, and I took a shower and set the alarm. I set the clock radio as well as the Screaming Meanie® to ensure my leaving on time. Original plan, go to bed was at 8:00, actual time, 11:30.

March 8^th, Saturday morning Promptly at 4:30 I excitedly jumped out of bed like a kid on Christmas morning. A short 25 minutes later I was dressed and ready to go. Outside temp was 29 degrees, so I had a Gerbings® Jacket liner, turtleneck, expedition long johns, $10 windproof and waterproof ski bibs, Gerbing gloves, and full face Nolan 100E Classic Plus® with fog shield in place. Linda took a few pics to see me off and I headed out at 5:05 ( a mere 5 minutes behind schedule) Beginning mileage is 15, 041

Continuing south on 95 everything runs smoothly, all fuel stops are easily made and I’m a little ahead of schedule. A short stop in Florence SC at a Bo Jangles Chicken makes for a nice crunchy chicken fingers and Cajun fries pit stop. It’s around this time I started seeing the mass exodus from Daytona Bike Week. Tomorrow is the last day, but with rain forecast, everyone seems to be leaving now anyway. You would have thought that they closed Florida and gave everyone a trailer to leave with. Some trailers had 2 to 8 bikes, but a few had just one. It reminded me of the helmet sticker that says "I rode my bike to trailer week" Oh well, to each his own. I stopped at Savannah Ga. Harley, which is a stones throw from I-95 and purchased a small knob cover to go over the exposed shaft of the rear shifter. I finally pulled into the Hampton Inn at Brunswick GA at 6:00, 25 minutes ahead of schedule. I had previously used Priceline to get some of my rooms in advance. This room at the Hampton cost me $49.95 total and while standing in line to check in, the person in front of me was quoted $89.95. Their room was 2 doors down from mine, so I feel I got a good price. I had my "last" big meal at Sonny’s BBQ. Big meaty beef ribs, baked beans, cole slaw, and Onion Rings overfilled me. After hoisting myself onto the bike, my engine lugged me all the way back to the hotel. The weather channel tells me that the "torrential" rains we will be having tomorrow will be accented by severe lighting in the afternoon and possible flooding. Originally I had planned to ride to Daytona to pick up a few bonus points for the Polar Bear Club, but figured I will end up riding in the rain a direct route to the hotel in Jacksonville Beach.

March 9^th, Sunday morning. Upset about not being able to go to church I woke early and tuned into the weather channel. The same story as the night before if not worse. I wanted to start eating light in preparation of 4 days of intense riding, but the only thing I found at the complimentary breakfast was bread and carbs, so I stuck with my healthy Entenmann’s Popems glazed donuts in the St. Patrick’s holiday package. See, they’re so small that they’re healthy, yeah, sure. Suited up and ready to roll, I rode for the hour and 20 minutes to the hotel in the rain. I have a water resistant Harley jacket that I like to wear at night and during rain because it’s very reflective, but not too waterproof. I have a Columbia Sportswear Gore-Tex® jacket that easily fits over my leathers and is very light as well as 100% waterproof. My Gore-tex Rain pants work very well despite channeling rain into the side zipper of my boots.

Now I will never remember names, kinds of bikes, or screen names, so bear with my generic descriptions. My room wasn’t ready since I was there at 10:30 and check out isn’t till noon, so I enjoyed the coffee and conversation in the lobby while waiting. I started meeting different people like Alan, Don, Joe, Splatt!, and Jason. The receptionist named "Apple", found a room for me around 11:30 and I lugged my belongings, wet socks and boots up to the room. A free tip from Old Uncle Gregg: when your boots get wet, roll up some newspaper and stuff down into your boots. This helps wick away moisture and speeds drying. Since my ride was over, the rain stopped and the beach looked very inviting. A few of the crew were going next door for lunch…so how could I resist. It turned out to be a very eclectic place indeed. Interesting items like a full size mermaid on a surfboard hanging from the ceiling as well as an upside down Christmas tree and presents. Cheeseburger and fries rounded out my "light" meal while being stared at by the 30" Hank Williams Jr. figure with a huge head that would undoubtedly start singing and dancing if prompted. We all agreed that prompting it would not be a "good thing". It did look more like Chuck Mangione than Hank Jr., but I didn’t want to hear for sure. We commented on how pleasant and courteous our waitress was, so I needed to take her picture. A few more hours of storytelling, checking out the bikes, and we were ready for dinner.

Wait, a group picture is needed. Taken by our official photographer, most of us get in the picture and of course, I'm taking his picture.

We walked the other direction for dinner to a place called Bukkets. Kind of a "Hooters" meets Oyster bar type of place. The two K’s in Bukkets I suppose was to represent the 2 O’s in Hooters (o)(o) I give up on how many people were actually there, but I’m guessing around 40. Oh, and of course more cameras. I had the broiled grouper sandwich and just ate the grouper, coleslaw, water, and No Beer. I was also very thankful the fan covered in 2 inches of dust had remained off. One member that had made the 100CCC last year was not going this time and seemed very happy for some reason. We had one waitress for all of us, she did a fairly good job and somehow I ended up collecting money from everyone. I must say, everyone was great about chipping in more than their share. After collecting from everyone, we had the total ($440 tip included), and an additional $6 to give our waitress. Jason assured me that going out the side door to look for her wasn’t necessary, so we paid at the register. Not much time left now, so the alarm and Meanie are set to start the ball rolling. I need to be at the Shell station at 5:00, so I will be getting up at 4:30.

March 10^th, Monday. Gee, go figure, I had trouble sleeping. I was so ready for this. Up with the alarm, started dressing, took a few things down to the bike. Much to my surprise, most everyone else was already gone. I packed up, checked out, and headed to Shell. Checking in, I got my witness form signed and waited. At 5:44 I played the National Anthem through my speakers and everyone started gassing up and leaving. I kept waiting for my number 28 to be called, and finally I was ready. Of course my pump doesn’t give a receipt, but one of the volunteers ran it out to me. Everyone involved in this was phenomenal with the dedication and willingness to help. My schedule said I was going to leave at 6:15, but I was out at 6:00 am. EST, so I was a little ahead.

Somewhere in Louisiana I got a hankerin’ for a pecan waffle at Waffle House. Now I have lived in the Northeast, the Midwest, and the Southeast and found each to have it’s own regional favorites. In the South, it’s Waffle House. This fine establishment can be found in small towns crouched near the interstate ready to feed the hungry traveler any time day or night. The food is cooked to order, fresh, fast, and usually very friendly. Having my mind already set, my mouth watered to the next fuel stop and yes brothers and sisters, there was a Waffle House right across from a gas station. I checked my time and pulled off to get gas. Knowing that in the afternoon heat my fuel would expand, I opted to get the waffle first rather than let fuel leak out the overflow tube. I assure you, that really was the only reason I stopped to eat first. Recalling how it works at a Waffle house, I walked in, ordered a pecan waffle and large water and headed to the men’s room. FYI, my rule of thumb is that every gas break should include a restroom break. If these two don’t coincide, then I am either getting too much or too little hydration. After sipping some cold water, the waffle appears, then disappears quickly. Back on the bike, pull up to the fuel pump, insert credit card, grab receipt and off I go. Back on the interstate I see that the whole transaction took about 14 minutes. I’ll have to keep in mind they make omelets quickly too.

I ducked in a Food and Fuel place and headed to the bathroom. The sign on the door advertises "Great Southern Bar-B-Que." and it smells great as I walk through. I was almost convinced to grab a quick sandwich so I could have some real Texas Bar-B-Que. Then the dark recesses of my mind brought images of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre to the "Now Playing" part of my brain and I headed out to re-fuel. I filled my 5-gallon tank with about 4 gallons, took my receipt and started putting on my helmet and gloves. Just as I was ready to saddle up, a short woman of strong stature came running out of the store and asked if I was gonna pay for that $30 of gas I bought or run off. I looked at my small tank, the pickup on the other side of the pump and held my composure. Asking which pump she was talking about she yelled "3!!" and I mentioned that since I was on 2, she might want to find the guy in the pickup. She turned red and apologized as she did the Texas Waltz back into the store. Counting my blessings for avoiding turning into the Monday Night special at the Bar-B-Que joint, I hit the starter and made tracks.

March 11th, Tuesday Gassing up in Ozona was a refreshing break from the dark night. I was concerned with all the deer I was supposed to be seeing at the side of the road. It must be "Deer Night Off" cause I saw not one single living thing for hours, including the attendant at the fuel stop in Ozona. Somewhere on the other side of Ozona I found a picnic table with my name on it. Yes boys and girls, the Airhawk® seat cushion makes a great pillow when placed under your head. Somewhere between Dancing Deer Rest Area and The Killa Armadilla Bypass I woke up and was ready to go. I had set the Screamin Meanie for 40 minutes and there were 10 to spare. Driving west was a race against the sun that I enjoyed losing and have pictures to prove it. Feeling rested and ready, my drive kicked in and took me easily through El Paso and into New Mexico. Not wanting to stop, I dug into my front pouch and snacked on Entenmann’s Strawberry Breakfast bars and Gatorade, Mmmmm.

Somewhere Lordsburg New Mexico I gave Mom a call to let her know I wouldn’t be stopping by today, but maybe tomorrow. Now if anyone thinks that I can drive cross country and through Tucson not once but twice without stopping to see Mom, then you need to learn something about good old Irish Catholic guilt. Telling me there was fresh cheesecake sealed the deal and plans were made for a stop around noon on Wed. Once in Arizona, I can still see remnants of snow in the mountains and stop for a quick pic. (Look between tour pack and windshield)

The next leg of the ride wasn’t so bad, great sand dunes, a nice road, and entertainment of watching the Border Patrol smooth the sand by the side of the road to see footprints of future citizens out taking a hike. I might say that hitting the mountains before San Diego was quite refreshing. The temperature dropped about 20 degrees as I climbed in altitude. The traffic seemed to move at a accelerated pace and after the Border Patrol checkpoint, it was literally downhill from there. I noticed that driving the freeway into San Diego, every time I pulled up behind someone, their blinker would come on and they would nervously pull to the side. I figure that my three headlights must look familiar to them and I smiled feeling much like "Ponch and John" in a C.H.I.P.’s episode. Pulling into the "official" Shell station, I grabbed my receipt and headed for the beach. Some sand, water, a short ride, and I was parked at the Motel 6. Seeing some familiar faces, I checked in, lugged my stuff up to the second floor (I requested first floor) and headed over to Hunter's Steak House for a quick bite. Potato skins, a big burger, and some water and I was ready to hit the sack. Setting the alarm for 7 hours seemed like a lot at the time, but not very long when it started screaming at me.

Since the return trip was to be more relaxed, I resigned myself to sticking to my time schedule and not pushing it unless I had to. I pulled onto the Ina exit and headed towards Sabino Canyon in Northeast Tucson to see Mom and get some cheesecake. She lives a few yards from the park and my family has spent many a Christmas morning hiking in the canyon. I chatted with the McCormick clan that were visiting and enjoyed cheesecake, but soon it was time to leave. I took a few pictures of the newly tiled patio area, loaded up and headed south. Hooking up on I-10, I stopped at my favorite "elephant" rock place, Texas Canyon and took a few pictures. Well, I was a few hours behind everyone else, so I figured I would never catch up with them so I hit my steady pace. I was entertained through El Paso by the truckers on the CB and learned that you could get a ride to Mexico, meet some lovely ladies and have lots of Cervaza for very little money. All I really wanted was a bite to eat, so I fled into the night with music and good buddies filling my ear. When I learned of a huge backup heading East, I stopped off at Van Horn and spent some down time in a McDonalds with a McRib and a cold drink. This would not be the first time the truckers would come in handy for up to the minute news. My goal tonight was to make it to Fort Stockton where I had a large room at the La Quinta paid for and ready through Priceline. I think I paid $32 and got an upgrade to a better hotel, we shall see.

March 13^th, Thursday Puhleeze let me sleep a little longer. OH yeah, I’m on a schedule. Quick shower, pack up, and over to the breakfast bar. I was surprised to see they had a waffle maker there and slipped some batter in the griddle as I finished off a banana. I oozed some syrup on the honeycomb of butter pockets that would get me moving again and was out the door. Now comes the scenery that I had passed in the dark the night earlier and would be pleased to see during the day. I guess this is what they call the West Texas Twisties. It’s just a slightly different version of the I-8 stretch between I-10 and Dateland yesterday. Only a few short hours and I was close to San Antonio. I had noticed a nice new Harley dealership north of town called Javelina Harley and thought I might stop in, check my oil and see if I needed anything. I filled up with gas, drove the frontage road over to the dealer and checked my oil. I could use some, so I planned on buying a quart and maybe a shirt if I saw something I liked. Striking up a conversation with the very complimentary staff, one noticed a patch I had on my vest and asked if I was a fireman. I told her yes, and she asked if I knew Dave from up the street. I mentioned that even though we all know each other, I wasn’t sure if I knew that particular Dave or not. The ladies happily gave me a fireman discount and I was happy that I stopped at such a wonderful dealership. Driving around San Antonio I noticed the temperature at a bank, and chilly 88 degrees on the 13^th of March. Back on I-10 I was tooling due east and heard of another wreck up ahead. Luckily this one was westbound and wouldn’t bother me this time, good thing too, there was a 6 mile backup coming the other way.

The Cowboy Harley Dealer in Beaumont was right off I-10, so I took the exit when it came up. Now I don’t like to badmouth anyone, so as Joe Friday would recommend, "Just the facts". I was warmly greeted at the door by the receptionist, asking if she could help me. I asked where to find the rain gear. She mentioned going to the parts counter, so I headed directly to motorclothes where the raingear should be located. I found a small pair of rain gators that slip over the front of your boots and protect part of the leg. Now I notice in my travels that a lot of Harley Dealers are the same. In my own opinion, I believe that each dealer needs to stock a certain amount of products and product numbers. This dealer was no exception. The 1 pair $55 rain gaitors that were in stock were small. Since my size 12’s would not fit by any stretch of the imagination, I asked if there were any in the back. Well, first the woman had to go look where I did to check if I had missed them. When she deduced that I might be correct in my statement, she checked into the computer and said yes, they had a large in the back. I said I’d take them if they fit. So a few minutes later she comes back with a pair of Large Deluxe rain gators that fit totally over the boot like another boot. The best part was these were only $89. I asked about the cheaper ones and she mentioned that they couldn’t find them. "We’re always off on our inventory from the computer" Now the "Head" clothes person came over and asked if she could help somehow. I repeated my story about my rain pants channeling water into the zipper of my boot and she says she has just the thing for me. I figure Whew, finally. She takes me over to the raingear and suggests some economical $80 rain pants. I ask how those will work better than my $160 Harley Rain pants and she says "Oh !, well then tell me how the rain runs down your pants then?" I try to politely repeat how the rain runs down my pant leg and into the zipper of my Harley Boots. Now she gets it, I need "some rain gaitors" then. I resist asking her who’s on first, and if she can look for my size possibly? They both go back for 5 minutes and come out with…. You guessed it, the $90 rain boot. Remembering my pleasant experience hours earlier at Javelina in Boerne, I mentioned that since I didn’t really want those, but needed something, was there any kind of a discount available, like my H.O.G. membership. I was politely informed that "only if you’re local" would I get a discount, so do I want these? I mentioned that 14 hours of riding in the rain is not as bad as buying something I don’t really need, so I will be covering my zippers with some Duct tape that I have with me. I’ve tried to stay objective and state the facts, so you can derive your own opinion of the dealership.

March 14^th, Friday Not knowing what time the bars close in Mobile, I look at the clock and figured that if last call is at 12:30,then I’ll be racing with all the drunks through the expressways of Alabamer. Maybe I was more sensitive to it, but it did seem like a lot of single occupant vehicles driving like they had just seen a NASCAR race and wanted to try some new moves. Entering Florida, I stopped at the rest area and tried waking up a little. By this time, I was starting to fight the drowsies and didn’t want to think about quitting, but knew that I needed to stop as much as I had to in order to be safe. If I made my cutoff time I would be elated, but if I never made it home, I could only hope to be elated and not make a descent. Keeping advised of the rain 30 miles ahead of me, I choose to find another Pecan Waffle when I needed fuel again. Crestview Florida, less than 100 miles from Panama City where I spent 4 years playing party animal, had a nice fuel stop and Waffle House waiting for me. One waffle, 3 cups O’ Joe and I was ready to go. On the way West, I had tuned into FM 107.9 broadcasting from Panama City Beach and enjoyed listening to the radio station I had DJ’d at for a few years. It was 3 o’clock in the morning and found that since it was Spring Break, they were still doing remote broadcasts from the Spinnakker, the bar I had also DJ’d at for a few years. Not only did it bring back memories ( the request line still being 234- Double O, Double O) but kept me wide-awake for quite some time.

Tallahassee and the last time zone change. I had hit a few sprinkles, but nothing like the rain I encountered from Brunswick to Jacksonville Beach last Sunday. The sun was coming up in the eyes, this could be a nice sunny day after all. My last fuel stop was Lake City, checking my watch, yep, plenty of time as long as nothing bad happened. For some reason, there were hordes of radar bears looking to give out performance awards, but luckily I knew where they all were thanks to my good buddies. I was complimenting myself on crossing the country without using a map yet, and that was probably my downfall. I heard about a HUGE speed trap on 295 and wanted to be sure I missed it. I would have missed it had I followed I-10 to 95, but I mistakenly took 295 south. I passed the speed trap with flying colors, but knew I was going too far south for my exit. When 295 met 95, I headed on 95 north, took my beach exit and headed for the shore. Still plenty of time, well, still enough time. Fully energized, I pulled into the Shell, gassed up, and found that I had made the deadline by 6 minutes. Hell, I could have had another waffle. Then I looked at bugs on my windshield and lost my appetite.

Post Ride We all traded stories, talking rather loudly, but audible enough for our double cross country ears, and headed for Joe’s Crab Shack. Hearing all the stories from fellow riders helped decompress from a long ride. I ordered the broiled seafood platter with Jalapeño Poppers as an appetizer. The food was great!! The waitress did a fantastic job of keeping us filled with fluids and the orders were on separate bills. The weather channel (we're all hooked on it), which we had on instead of their loud music was showing large showers in my return home path for a few days. I had "dodged the bullet" so far, but maybe my luck was changing.

We took a few pics so some of us could "prove" we were at the beach, and said our weary good-byes. I can definitely see riding with many of these folks in the future.

March 14^th, Friday One o'clock sure comes early in these parts. Checking outdoors…no rain yet. I really wanted to go back to sleep, but not after watching the weather channel, I could see a clear path up I-95 for now, with rain on both sides. The longer I wait, the worse it will be. Besides, there is less traffic at this time than 8 am in the rain. I load up, pack the bike and hit the road. My trucker buddies tell me it's pretty clear for an hour or so and we have a spirited ride past Savannah GA. So far, no rain, and I feel a little drowsy, so at the first fuel stop I grab a quick cup of something black and thick that resembles coffee at this hour in the morning. Another hour and a half and my head gets real heavy, the decision is made, an Omelet at the Waffle House. I pull in, a ham and cheese Omelet with grits and black coffee. After filling up, I fill up the tank at a closed gas station. Thank God for SpeedPass, and hit the highway.