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It'd take two of him to make one Bruce... |
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July 2001 Volume 2, Number 3 Lauranne covers the WIW Rendevous =============
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2001 WALTZ: How to Lose a Rally before You Turn the Key by Billy Street This
is the 2001
Waltz Across Texas Rally and another classroom for the new rally
idiot. I certainly took full advantage of the opportunity to learn RallyMaster Jack had given us over 25 pages of opportunities to learn. These included such things as a former bordello, gallows, headstone of a circus performer, yellow submarine, and frog. This is a Moron run event. Bruce, John and I had finished entering all the locations (we did elect to skip Memphis, Vicksburg, and the M^ M^ M^ Mel Tillis Theatre) and had set our base route. John saved all the locations from Mop 'N' Glow (take note of this program) to a disk so that I could upload my selected route into my GPS. I headed to my room to select bonus locations and to finalize my route.
This is the beginning of a dark cloud that hangs over my first Waltz. I am smart enough to use the paper maps and only load the locations near my route. I start with the two mandatory locations of Russellville, AR and Denison, TX and add the other locations. Then, I run the route to confirm that it can be completed in 24 hours and still leave enough time to do whatever Jack requests at each location. Upload it to the GPS III+ and check the time. It is 2:30 am and I am finally ready to get some sleep. Oh, Grasshoppa, "YOU WILL THINK BETTER TOMMORROW IF YOU GET REST TONIGHT!" I set the Meanie for 3 hours 10 minutes (that's 3 hours to the first warning) -- 5:30 am -- so that I can make it to the 6:00 rider meeting. Butt, I am already entering Rally Mode and sleep is fitful. It would be bad enough to have only 3 hours of good sleep. Butt, this was 3 hours of very disturbed sleep. The Meanie never sounds. I look at the clock at 5:20 and decide that preparation is better than lying awake. At the 6:00 rider meeting, Jack hands out the rest of the torture, and our chickens are returned to us. He has arranged for us to acquire paper, pens, toys, and other items for several local service groups. Well, we still have to figure out where to get them and how to transport them. Butt, Jack will give us points and the community will appreciate the donations. He tells us that we can get points for any statue of a soldier and for any Masonic lodge that we photograph. Jack also lets us know what to do with the chickens. First, we must ride with our chickens exposed for the entire rally. Just to make sure that we don't cheat and zip it up in a tank bag, Jack has appointed several Chicken Checkers who will be traveling around the rally route looking for our chickens. Fortunately, I don't have a CB radio. So I didn't have to listen to the truckers talking badly about my chicken. Second, it seems that Jack's brother worked for a major chicken processing company. This company has many chicken farmers throughout the area. Jack has kindly offered us points for each one of the farmer's signs that we photograph with our rally towel and our chicken. Do you have any idea how many Chicken Farmers are Masons who donate money so that their small town can have a Statue of a Soldier? Butt, I still didn't get it. Um, Grasshoppa, "ALWAYS PLAN FOR THE WORST BECAU.....{oh hell, you aren't listening}" In any case, Jack now releases his merry band of idiots to ride across four states with their chickens exposed and take photographs of statues, Masonic Lodges, chicken farms, bordellos, and other places that only a Moron would go. 7:00
am: Get photo bonus with Moron Mike Sachs who I had ridden from Atlanta to
Longview with. Get photo bonus with Jack's wife's sister. Head for the
bike. Before I start to ride, I always look at the first bonus and read
what I am supposed to do. This allows me to mentally prepare to quickly
perform the required functions and move toward the next. Bonus number TX17
Marshall Pottery: bla, bla, bla..."Bring back a 2-1/4" Standard Pot,
intact ... along with a receipt from Marshall
Pottery." Key on. Dash pops to life. Gauges do their startup magic and settle down. Reach for the start button. $%&*!!! Two bars showing on the gas gauge. {Double Slap helmet, "You better get this rally straightened out right now if you plan on me riding with you!"} We all talk to ourselves during a rally, Right? Yea, Right. This'll cost me again. In Full Rally Search & Destroy Mode, I make my first rally stop to fill the tank, log the stop, get and number the receipt, verify that it has all required information. This would have been so much simpler 12 hours ago. Then, it is off to Gilmer, TX. Quick, in and out, photo taken, mileage logged, time noted, I am back in the groove -- butt which one. "I Found my Thrill on Blueberry Hill" in Avinger, TX. Herb and Wilma grow blueberries and support motorcycling. So this is a natural stop down the unpaved road to the blueberry farm. We could also pick blueberries for extra points. Yes, this is a Moron run event and it is beginning to show. Late April in east Texas is not blueberry season. As I pull into the patch, I notice Mike Getzendanner, the RallyRadarRanger, standing next to Herb. Mike is happy to help in any way possible as long as you aren't runnin' hot or runnin' with your chicken covered. I get my photo and move on. Now, I am off to Jefferson, TX where my next stop will NOT be the Bear Creek Smokehouse that is "West of Jefferson." Reading comprehension is a big part of success in any rally -- or in life for that matter. I had programmed TX16 in Jefferson. It is actually about 15 miles from Jefferson and certainly not worth the travel time and distance. Butt, I didn't figure this out until I had ridden to Jefferson. It is after 9 a.m. I have picked up two bonuses worth a grand total of 50 points for the 70 miles that I have ridden. Points per mile are dismal. The WATR is a speed-controlled rally. This translates to, "You get penalized for miles ridden." And, 70 miles for 50 points was getting me right the hell into the, "How did he ride so many miles and get so few points?" laughing stock. I have piled up an amazing 35.7 points under the speed control formula. At this average, I will get 428 points for the event. I may as well stay home and drink beer. Average speed is 35 mph. Route as planned is 960 miles for an average speed over the 24 hours of 40 mph. I am behind, tired, and performing poorly. It is time to get my Butt out of Texas. Butt first, I have to show Jack that I know which state is best.
In Texarkana, I go to the state line marker for TX 21. John Harrison takes my photo with the nose of the bike in Texas and the tailpipe in Arkansas. Did I mention that this is a Moron run event? I BRRAAACK the pipe once toward Arkansas before I move on (It is a stock Honda pipe so it doesn't actually make noise). I prepare to head out and notice that John has moved across the street for a photo. Now, John and his riding cohort RallyTallyMan Roberts are good LDRiders and good rally competitors. Even in my state of confusion, I know that John and Greg are not taking photos for the family scrapbook. There isn't another listed bonus in this area. What the heck is going on here? Oh, there is a soldier standing on top of that monument. I had forgotten the two-page list of added bonuses that Jack handed out this morning. I head across the street for a photo and hope that the brain will begin to function. Thank you, John. John is headed north and I am headed south. We split up as I head off to find the Legend of Boggy Creek monster in Foulkes, AR. The trip out of Texarkana is slow and tedious. Just as I begin to pick up speed, a state boy pulls in ahead of me. We slowly move past the biggest center for staties that I've seen in a while. And, I know that I have to come back this way to get to Hope, AR -- my next bonus. I find the monster and start to take my photo. This photo requires that my face be visible in the hole in the monster -- Morons. This is getting very tiresome, Grasshoppa, "NEVER USE ANY NEW EQUIPMENT FOR THE FIRST TIME ON A RALLY!" This is a new Polaroid 1200Si. It is the ultimate rally-roid with all kinds of features like the ability to use a self-timer. I have never used the self-timer before so it took me 10 minutes and a screwed up pack of film to figure it out. I can't possibly use that much film, RIGHT? What is that sign on the building next door? Yeppers, it's a Masonic Lodge. One more photo and I'll head back into the jungle. Butt, before going that way, I look for an option. Just a couple of miles farther south is a thin blue line on the map. Yessir, SR 134 to US 82 to SR 29 and I'm in Hope. The roads are fast and open. After running 134 and 82, I gas up in Lewisville and clear the mind for the trip up 29. Past Piney Grove and life is looking a little better. What was that? Grab a handful of front brake and bring this baby down. That was a chicken farm. So, progress is slow up 29 as I continue to stop, remove my chicken and rally towel, place them next to each Tyson sign, and photograph chicken farms of that label. In Hope, I find Clinton's birthplace. John and Greg are just leaving as I pull in. This is a bonus for the Presidential tour. Butt, I manage to screw up the Presidential bonus by not getting the bike in the photo. It does get worse folks. As I am leaving, another rider pulls in and I direct him to the sign for the photo. I purchase some of the needed items at a food store next to the birthplace home and ride off in search of more elusive points. The next few hours go well as I see other riders along the way. On the way to Tollette, I play cat ‘n mouse with a couple of Hardley Ableson's as we get several chicken bonuses. I take a photo at Tollette Community Center, pack my bike and prepare to leave. Before leaving, I notice someone carrying a chicken to the sign. I read once more and note that the damn chicken has to be in this photo, too. Unpack, set up again, and take new photo with chicken.
The next listed bonus location is Albert Pike Campgrounds. This route causes me to diverge from any other fools who are this far behind in the rally. It also is one of the true low points on the entire rally. For the next 160 miles and almost 4 hours, I will not see any evidence of another rally rider. Albert Pike is in the Caddo Mountains and within the area that Jack has issued the fallen tree warning. After Albert Pike, I will make the long run through the Ouachita National Forest to Russellville without picking up a bonus or seeing another rider. I encounter tree crews that have the entire road closed, heat that causes me to put on the Cool Vest, exhaustion from the little sleep, and depression caused by knowing that I am so far off pace. It is also the most beautiful of the places that I ride in the rally. Even the beauty of topping the mountain on SR 27 with the vista of the valley below was lost on me. I could only watch the clock pass 4 pm -- my absolute drop dead time for Russellville -- as I was still over an hour away. How could I have dug such a big hole? Is it possible that anyone could screw up a rally start any worse than I had this one? Then I remember last year's Feast in the East. Yes, I screwed that one up at least this badly and still pulled out a finish. Back to the ride. Jack
was right on with his warning. I top a hill and grab the brakes. Road
crews have the entire road closed to clear fallen trees. After about a
15-minute wait, they allow me to pass. A couple more chicken farms and
another Masonic lodge later, I have the opportunity to talk with a Park
Ranger. We first discuss a few things on his mind. Then, I ask about
routes out of Albert Pike. He informs me that this route is as good as I
will find. I thank him for the information and complete the trip into
Albert Pike. At the campground, the proprietor says, "You're way behind
the others." {Damn, I needed to hear
that.} So, I decide to press for a bit of good news. {IDIOT!
You didn't meet anyone on the 20 miles of slow roads into this place. That
means they are at least 40 miles ahead of you. You know you aren't close
to them.} Butt, I ask anyway, "Oh, how long since the last one was
here?" "'Bout three hours, I'd say." Double Damn! I am three hours behind
the worst of them. I am down to 3 shots left in the camera. As 4 p.m. passes, I begin the mental mathematics that confirm how deep this hole really is. My average speed is only up to 36 mph due to the large number of chickenshots, Masonshots, soldiershots, and idiot actions. Normally, I figure that daytime is when I can cover some ground. I have managed to waste a perfectly good riding day and set myself up for a very difficult night. My night average speed must be 8 mph higher than my day average speed. I don't even have a map or a plan to get back through Texas. The other place Jack warned of lies ahead. Eastern Oklahoma includes road construction, animal threats, mountain riding, and DARK. Lots of DARK. If you remember from "Slaying the Dragon", I do not like riding mountain roads in the dark. Oh yeah, I got three hours of sleep last night. I am tired -- almost falling asleep due to the heat before I put on the Cool Vest -- and I am not sure that I can safely ride all night without sleep. I will hit Russellville at 5:30 still needing film, fuel, food, and several donation items. If I am lucky, I can be on my way by 6:00 pm. The rally started at 7 a.m. Almost half of my rally is done -- 400 miles. Just over half of it lies ahead -- 560 miles. Butt, if I don't find film, it won't matter where I ride. Something has to change quickly. You ask, "Can it get any worse?" Now, why did ya have to go and do that? You know it can. Go ahead, you know you want to finish it! |
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I
perform a final check of my packing for the next day. Polaroid camera is
in the tank bag along with three rolls of film. There is no way that I can
pick up more than 30 bonus locations -- right? It is about 12:15 when I
fire up the laptop, plug in the disk, and open Street Atlas 8.0 for my
final planning. Hello, Grasshoppa, "NEVER DO SOMETHING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A RALLY!"
Wrong format. Wrong Format! What the $%&* do you mean, Wrong
Format. These are both DeLorme mapping programs. I have the latest
version. It won't read the disk. So I begin again.
