At the Y2k National, Leg 3, the very last item of the evening's banquet was the disposition of Barney- the unofficial COG mascot. Guy Young looked for a volunteer who lived in or near Texas to run him home to Fred Harmon, and help Fred recover from his bad get off. Fred brought the purple guy into the fold. When no-one stood, I volunteered Dale "The Horskter" Horstman. Consequently, I ponied up the miles to help get Barney home.

The Plan

The plan was to run Barney to Fort Worth over the weekend when Dale and Tracy were "kidfree", pull off an IBA Butt Burner Gold (1500 miles in 24 hours) and get home before work on Monday. The problem was, Mr. Freeze was due for his first service in the interim and the most direct route from Dale City to Fort Worth came up about 200 miles short of the required 1500.

Now, how do you add 200 +/- miles to a trip and still make it doable. We must of kicked around 4 or 5 different routes that met the 1500 miles criterion. Dale arranged for BBG witnesses (it's a special breed of witness who gets up at 4am and 3am respectively) in Leon "John Deere" Begeman for Dale City and Jack "the Ducttape Rally Bastard" Tollett in the Fort Worth area. When Barney was handed off to Tracy and the girls, who immediately set off for Manassas with him, Dale and I nailed down the final route- I-95 to Florence, SC, West on I-20 to Weatherford, Texas (about 20 miles west of Fort Worth to insure the miles).

Breaking the trip into 125 mile legs, stopping for 10-15 minutes each time getting fuel every other stop, over the distance chosen (1528 miles), the numbers weren't too bad- just average 63.5 miles per hours for the trip. Now keep in mind, my longest day in the saddle was 1280 miles back in Februrary- I can't speak for Dale, but I imagine it was fairly comparable.

My tail trunk was planned to act as a "cooler" filled with ice, water and other cold beverages for consumption on the trip- this was to both save money and time. If time permitted, we would stop in both Tallapoosa, GA and Vicksburg, MS for the IBET stops.

The next stated goal was to skip the first rest break and possibly the second, to get ahead of schedule- see, the enemy on distance rides is not the miles, it's time. When you're sitting the clock is ticking, so the shorter the breaks are, the more miles you can make. The perfect fuel stop is considered 10 minutes or less- try it sometime, it ain't easy. That's 10 minutes from the time you start to decel on the off ramp, until you are back up to cruising speeds.

We had two contingencies for the "bypasses" around Richmond and Hotlanta- if through traffic was 'bad'. The CB would be the most important tool for the trip. I also had just installed a radar detector, AKA the ECM; didn't quite get a lighting solution I was happy with yet. The plan was for me to ride to Dale City Thursday night, and depart from there early Friday. Tracy started to feel poorly by the end of Wednesday, so Dale and I were forced to go "stag".

The Run

Well, actually, two days before the run, I get the news from the dealer- the first service has been completed and they dropped my bike in the process: damage, all cosmetic, but nasty. So here I am, with my brand new bike, that the dealer dropped before I even got the chance to- damn!

Thursday night, August 3, I rode to Dale City through a whopper of a thunderstorm. Yes my Herman Survivors were waterproof; unfortunately, it was so wet, the boots nicely held the water that got into them from my wet pants - capillary action I recall. The Weather Channel predicts intermittent showers until we get to the Mississippi; we would not be disappointed.

Friday, Barney gets strapped in for the ride to Fort Worth as Leon meets us out front of the house. We then head over to the 7-11 at Exit 158 on I-95. We dawdle around before topping off the tanks- no sense burning time unnecessarily. At 04:59 EDT, we go on the clock. Decisively, we bypass Richmond, since the James River Bridge construction was lifted late, according to CB chatter. First Goal: make the turn onto I-20 within 6 hours. Our first scheduled fuel stop is Exit 97 in North Carolina, home of J-R Cigar. From there, we would purchase fuel every 225-250 miles, short of both the Connies full range and the IBA 300 mile fuel requirement.

Well, Exit 97 was a little farther than we both had thought, and we wound up a little short of that mark; no matter, we would still need a receipt at our Florence Corner in another 160 miles or so. A quick stop and we're back on the road- sticking to right around 7 over the limit; we figured that's kinda the "gray" zone of enforcement. You get much over 80 (in a 70 zone) and they'll bust yer ass each and every time.

We exit 95 and head west; I-20 is a great Interstate- smooth and well maintained. We can and did make good time on this highway.

Second Goal: Hotlanta by 03:15 EDT- any later than that, and we run the evening rush hour risk- and it's a Friday to boot. Now, rush hour in Hotlanta is bad, but not nearly as bad as DC; it's just we don't have the time to fool with rush hour traffic. Half an hour short of Hotlanta, we again decisively head downtown, saving at least 10 minutes by not going on the "bypass".

As we are ahead of schedule and we will need fuel near Tallapoosa, GA, we take the off ramp at Exit 5. The Tallapoosa City Limits sign is on the Ramp??? Well, I'm not heading back one exit to return to the ramp for the shot and figure/hope there's another sign just south of the Interstate. Yup, just about 1/4 mile away, nice Tallapoosa sign. There is evidence of other motorcycles having been there- most noticeably are the single wheel tracks in the tall grass; I am not the first. We head back under the interchange, fuel up and take nearly the maximum time allowed for stops- 30 minutes including the IBET photo.

Quickly, we're back up to cruising speed and on CDT. Next Goal: the 1,000 mile mark in less than 16 hours, or 8pm CDT - in error, I have figured this position as the Mississippi River- OOPS.

As we approach Alabama-Mississippi line, Dale needs a 20 minute nap. Not a problem, we have the time and had planned for two nap breaks. In the rest area, Dale immediately hits the "hotel" and I start to get a better handle on the remainder of our ride. Turns out, we are nearly 1.5 hours ahead of schedule - the River is closer to 1100 miles into the trip and we are Gold. I call home and let the machine know that we are are way ahead of schedule and that I'll call again after we finish. Barney has earned his Saddlesore pin (which I had along) and he now sports it proudly. I wake up Dale after 45 minutes, let him know the good news and about 10 minutes later, we are again heading west. This time, into some violent showers.

We stop for fuel again, in Meridian, MS. We aren't quite running tank to tank, but we are running over 225 miles per leg- putting us 15 minutes ahead on each leg stops alone. Once it gets dark, we will be buying fuel closer to the 200 mark- thus leaving room for "error" in 24 hour availability. After passing through the very violent weather, Dale and I decided: if the Vicksburg sign isn't on the interstate or just off the ramp, we'd blow it off. Unlike Tallapoosa (of which there are only two), there are lots of Vicksburgs available; no sense wasting time on it.

As we approach Vicksburg from the east, and head down the ramp for the Battlefield exit, Dale keys in "How much time do we have?" I should point out, I was keeping the times and he was watching the fuel- he gets slightly worse mileage than I, we figure it must be the Rifle with the oversized "rally" shield. "About 20 minutes." "Let's take 15." To which I agree.
We have now gone back on a decision, and it would nearly cost us the run. The IBET stops take 10 minutes- that's from the time you find the appropriate marker (post office, police station, or city limit sign), place your rally towel, take the picture and make sure it comes out. So these times were in addition to the requisite 10 minutes. We zoom off the ramp- no sign. We head past the National Battlefield and Cemetery- no sign, but we know we are in town. A stop at a convenience store, and some perfect instructions to post office are obtained- I mean perfect, right down to the "they're not open, you know."

We are now downtown Vicksburg at the post office; unfortunately, it's an older one so the lettering is way up the building and it's not well lit. The doors have gold foil lettering, but we can't get the bike close enough for the shot to work. I waste a couple Polaroids on the attempt. I roll around the block, it's a "government center" area with town hall, etc., looking for the police station- nope not there. We determine that we have pissed away the allotted time and we better get moving west again. As we leave downtown, Dale gets stuck at a light. Just before the interstate (and I mean just), I clearly see "Stop by and visit again" on a well lit sign- yup it's the back of the unlit "City of Vicksburg" sign- dammit. It was right there on the interchange, but invisible in the dark.

We have wasted a total of 45 minutes for this stop; there goes my midnight nap.
Once under way we Tally of the Bad News:
We have two states to go- Louisiana and Texas.
We also have two fuel stops to make; there is no way to stretch the tanks to cover what's left milewise.
Worse yet, we are for the very first time, behind schedule. This is not good; not good at all.
With about 7 hours left, we have some serious boogying to do (67.5 mph) to make up for our decision rescission.

Second to last fuel stop, Monroe, LA: it's going to be close, real close. This is the quickest stop so far and we are back on the road in less than 12 minutes- yes I did the clock on this one. I getting tired and starting to fade- I have trouble keeping my lines and Dale takes over the lead for a bit. Then he starts to fade and we switch back. This pattern kept us going when we had to go.

Next variable: the first milemarker in Texas- this determines exactly how far we have to go to Exit 409 and the waiting Jack Tollett. If the first one is greater than 635, it's basically over. There just isn't enough time to pull it off. We cross into Texas, our last state on this trip. MM 636- shit. I quickly run the numbers through the calculator- we have about 3.5 hours left to for the last 227 miles- we still have one more fuel stop to make. That's just under 65 mph avg., including the fuel stop. I let Dale know the bad news. On the bright side, the necessary average has dropped 2.5 mph over this leg.

Linvale, Texas: Last fuel stop. Once we're back on the road, the average has crept to 65.3 mph- it's supposed to get lower not higher- great. The good news, is we have no need for fuel- just that magic ending receipt- the posted limit is still 70 and traffic for the most part is moving right around 80. With luck, and no traffic issues in Dallas-Fort Worth, we can do this- it will be close.

03:30 CDT we are finally in the home stretch, running on pure adrenaline, and ahead of schedule for the first time in the last 6+ hours - bleep bleep bleep goes the ECM. Oh what the hell! I scream in the CB- we're getting hammered by someone out there and hammered hard. Although we are still running just 7 over, that's bustable and if we get nailed now, this ride is over within sight of our goal. We never did find the source of the radar- we figured it was some of Tollett's WATR radar gun toting volunteers waiting for two bikes running above the limit near Fort Worth on I-20 at 4 in the morning.

First it's the "lodging" sign; then the "food" one. The Exit 409 ramp comes into sight- I can honestly say, except for getting home to my Jean, that was the sweetest thing I've ever seen. We pull into the Petro (10 minutes left), throw a couple bucks in the tanks as the Tollett Welcoming Committee (Jack, Paula, Greg and Robert) work their way towards us from the Iron Skillet- the receipts pop out - no friggin times. Quickly, into the store for duplicates- Dale's is screwed up, mine's fine. Jack signs off as our ending witness. We've done it.

I have the biggest shit eating grin on my face- we did it with 7 minutes to spare. We wheel over to the restaurant for a well earned "real food" meal. With Barney in arms, the Welcoming Committee head inside for breakfast- our treat. The crowd shoots the breeze for at least an hour; mostly about WATR and some of the mean things Team Strange has done to ralliers over the years. Jack reminds us, that "the good ralliers, use every minute available to them." We had seven minutes to spare.

Dale and I head down the road looking for a place to rest our very weary heads- we wind up back in Fort Worth at Fred Harmon's exit. We smoke our BBG celebration cigars (Punch Grand Cru) while we wait for the motel shift change, check in and hit the sack.

The Delivery

Going on Jack's sagely advise, we give Fred a call to let him know who's here. He seems pleased that visitors are coming. We checkout and head down the road to Fred and Diane's home, about 4 miles away. Man it's hot- like riding in a hair dryer.

Quickly we find their home and gain entry- we see Fred's bike in the garage; it looks pretty beat up. Diane is on crutches (twisted her ankle) and Fred is having back problems. Dale and I decide to make this a short, quality visit.

The reaction from Fred was worth the last 30 hours; I nearly cried. (Sorry, I forgot to use the "flash").

We chatted a bit, had some fresh peaches from their tree, checked out Fred's poor Connie (he really checked out Mr. Freeze), bid our good-byes and hit the road home.

The Return

It's currently 104 degrees in Dallas. As we approach the construction zone on I-20, just south of Big D, traffics comes to a crawl. There's nothing like being on a hot bike, in full armor, on a black asphalt highway with fresh stuff getting rolled out next to you. Whowee, it was hot. The truckers are complaining of a major wreck just before the I-30 interchange with a 4 mile back-up. Great. I'm getting downright uncomfortable, and getting sick to my stomach- it's the heat.

We don't have "good" maps of the area (just the regional ones that got us there, and we're both GPS deficient). We bail the slab for US-80 and decide it'd be best to get off the road for a bit- get some decent food for second time since Thursday night, and out of the heat. We chose the East Fork Cafe, in East Fork. Great grub. We develop a plan to get home.

OK, here's the Going Home Plan- find our way to I-30, head east to US-259 then north into Oklahoma (for Dale's state jewel), then cut the corner back to I-30 near Texarkana, I-30 to 40 to 81 to our respective home legs. We hope to get as far as we can this evening (maybe Memphis), so our Sunday isn't too long. We'd really like to get home around 8pm or so. The local map in the restaurant shows a road that runs straight north to I-30 a few exits down the road- we decided this is it.

Well, let's just say the road isn't even close to straight, but very cool nonetheless. A bit later, we find ourselves at the US-259 exit and head north- now, this is a straight road. However, the "cut the corner" route isn't, it's getting dark, and the roads are unstriped to boot. Time just flies away while we work our way south and east. We pass a small, well-lit church; it is here Dale decides, he should re-aim my headlamp. He's right, of course, the stupid thing nearly points straight down. After fiddling with it for a bit, the lighting is better- I will have to mess with more when I get home.

We finally reach I-30 at Texarkana, an immediately head east. It's almost 11pm, local, and the temp is nearly 90, still. I get another 30 minutes or so down the road before the nods set in. The nods are not a good thing when you're riding. So we start motel scoping. Finally, after several strikeout exits, we find the last room at the Arkadelphia exit- the last room. While Dale carefully awards his map with the OK and AR jewels, I hit the sack- hard.

We had made two mistakes today- the first was not obvious. Considering the times, we should have stayed in our motel longer, checked out later, did our Fred visit then get on the road home a little later in the day. This would have helped riding in the heat of the day. The next was an easy one, we did catch, but did nothing about. Once we crossed the Red River in OK, we should have turned around and just back tracked to I-30. This was very true when we started to head east on some local road that was not conducive to making time. The backtrack would have cost us 30 minutes tops- pressing on was 90 minutes.

We rise, get back in the saddle at 8am EDT (7 local); nearly 1100 miles from our respective homes. If we can keep a BBG pace (see above), we'll be home around midnight. Unfortunately, our butts just give out half way cross Tennessee- this is one long state. The stops come more frequently and last longer. Our averages continue to fall as the day presses on- again indicative of fatigue.

By the time we get into Virginia, we are both beat and naps are needed. This is my first Iron Butt Motel, and now I see why picnic tables are preferred. After a 20 minute refresher, we get back on the road. I have to stop for fuel one last time- Dale said he'll be close. As we approach I-66, we said our farewells for now, Dale peels off to the east, as I press on to VA-7, fuel and home.

It's now 2:45am, I am home; Sadie the dog is very happy to see me. Jean's asleep. I plan to work in a few hours. I unload my gear in an explosion of material in the living room, climb the stairs, set the alarm, and go to sleep.

Post Mortem

Was it worth it? Yes. I had not intended to try a BBG in quite this fashion. The more traditional 750 out and 750 back was what I had in mind over finding myself nearly 1300 miles from home. What made this ride "worth it" was just to see Fred, Diane, and the look of childlike joy on Fred's face when Barney came home. I still get gooey eyed thinking about it.

Would I do it again? Not today, No. Ask me tomorrow.

Lessons Learned:

• When you make a decision- stick with it. Don't second guess it.
• Dallas, Texas is now just a day ride from our Nation's capitol.
• Connies rule!

Fred, heal fast and ride soon, my friend. Don't make us come down there and whip yer ass into shape. You know we'd do it, too.