I guess my Bun Burner Gold attempt really started when I inadvertently came across the Iron Butt Association home page about 6 months ago, and I became totally intrigued by the ride accounts. I had been out of motorcycling for about 3 years, due to the fact that I had purchased a sailboat, and parted with my BMW K75LT under my guilt induced, "only one toy" rule.

But by summer of 97, the boat was sold, and I was at a motorcycle junkyard looking for a minibike for my son, when I saw a pristine appearing 1981 Yamaha XS850 Special with only 11,000 miles, and just one problem, a seized engine. I had owned one of these bikes in 1980, and liked it very much. Lots of power for its displacement, powerful brakes, shaft drive, and smooth comfortable handling. These bikes were the little brothers of the XS1100's which were the fastest production bikes for a time. Also, there is just something different about the sound of a three cylinder engine. $500.00 later it was on a trailer headed home.

Engine teardown revealed an engine that appeared new inside except a broken off valve in number three cylinder and a hole in the top of the piston the size of a quarter, and a cylinder head that looked like it had been worked over with a hammer and chisel.

I rebuilt the engine with a used head from the junkyard, new piston, gaskets, etc. The bike appeared to have been sitting up for some time. I had to replace both front disk calipers, and rebuild both front and rear master cylinders. The carburetors were likewise "gunked up" and I had the pleasure of rebuilding them three times before I got them right. After six weeks of work, the bike was running by August of 1997, the same month I hit the Iron Butt page on the Internet, and was hooked.

I immediately began to imagine how I could modify the bike to do "ld riding". Having owned both an R90RT and K75LT before, I knew the Yamaha had more power than both, a reliable shaft drive, and handled better than the R bike and at least as well as the K bike. Reliability, fuel capacity and lack of wind protection, were the weak points.

On reliability, I lucked out. 1981 was the last year of production for the XS850 Special. By this time, Yamaha had sorted out any problems from earlier years; and changed to a factory electronic ignition that was very reliable. I put about 4,000 miles on the bike between August and October without the slightest problem. Convinced it was reliable enough, I started to tackle the other problems.

I found a Vetter SS upper fairing and bracket and installed them on the bike. I put new tires front and rear, a Dunlop 491 on the front and 591 on the rear. I then asked the ldrider list for suggestions on auxiliary fuel, and based on the help I received, I bought an RCI fuel cell, and fabricated an aluminum mounting bracket to replace the steel rack and backrest. This not only more than doubled my fuel capacity, but also saved about 10 pounds of "empty weight", by virtue of the light aluminum mount and plastic cell, vs. the heavy steel rack and backrest. The mount also let me relocate my taillight out to the rear of the tank bracket, greatly increasing its visibility. I plumbed this all up with Earl's ANS aluminum fittings, fuel filter, braided steel hose and shut off valve. This led to a "fuel rail" I constructed, which accepted two lines in from the main tank, one larger line from the auxiliary tank, and then fed the carbs through two lines.

I added manual shutoff valves to the two main tank lines. All this gave me a completely gravity fed system, with the ability to select one tank or the other with manual valves I could reach easily while underway. I could not think of a more reliable approach, with no pumps, no switches, no solenoids, etc. to fail. This arrangement also gave me the option of running the rear auxiliary tank dry before switching to the main tank, which would let me get the weight off the rear of the bike as quickly as possible and also would give me a good idea of my rate of fuel consumption, which I could then extrapolate to my remaining primary fuel capacity, and determine my remaining range.

Finally I located a set of matching Vetter lower fairings, and added them. The bike was ready!

Meanwhile, I had searched every Houston bookstore for a copy of Ron Ayer's book, and struck out. (Ron, if you read this, you ought to have your publisher do something about that!) Likewise, the public library did not have it at any location. Finally, I tracked down how to order Ayer's book over the internet, and wrote explicit instructions for my wife how Santa might acquire it for me; and also how Santa might contact Pat Widder about an electric vest, and what my size would be, "just in case".

Well, I guess I had been good, because Santa came through. Ron Ayer's book arrived Christmas morning along with the vest, and I finished it the next morning. A very well written and captivating story, the ldriding hook was now firmly set. In January, I shipped off my application to the Utah 1088 Rally, and this month to the Tarbutt, with my application for the Waltz Across Texas to follow in a few days. With a rally schedule set for the year, I began to plan a Saddlesore 1000 ride for the first week in March, and I and discussed doing it with Byron, a new local internet acquaintance from the ldrider list.

As I planned the ride, I began to think "what the hell", why not go for the "Gold". I think reading the posts from the ldrider list went to my head, but I decided to plan a Bun Burner Gold for my initial ride, and if it proved too much, to just cut it back to a Bun Burner 1,500 or Saddlesore 1,000.

Suddenly, my schedule unexpectedly changed, and the weekend of Feb. 14th and 15th opened up. I e-mailed Byron on Monday the 10th and asked if he would be interested in a Bun Burner Gold attempt on such short notice. Byron e-mailed me, he was in.

THE RIDE

My plan was to depart Houston, run IH 10 west to El Paso and return. Depending on departure points and the turn around exit, Map-n-Go said this was just over 1,500 miles. It was a straight shot of Interstate all the way, with some long, relatively deserted stretches in west Texas where we could make good time. Byron suggested we leave around 4:00 AM on Saturday morning, and this made good sense to me. This would put us past San Antonio by 6:30 AM, and so traffic should not be a problem, with a clear shot to El Paso and back, putting us back through San Antonio early Sunday morning about 1:00 AM, again missing any traffic.

As a sailor, I should have known, that it is the unforeseen factors that cause the greatest problems. The best you can do is to be alert for them, and be prepared to adapt and deal with them. Our unforeseen factors began to emerge when I checked the weather forecast on Thursday evening, and they were predicted rain for most of the entire route. I e-mailed Byron that it looked like it was going to be wet, and was he still in? No reply, so I assumed he was. A check of the weather again on Friday morning, revealed a possible improvement.

Thursday's front had passed through Houston and was in the Gulf with clearing behind it. The new front was moving from California eastward, but there was a chance we could get almost to El Paso before we met its eastward progress, and then turn around and outrun it back to Houston, hopefully only having to endure a couple of hours of rain.

Frankly, at work on Friday I was worthless with anticipation. I could not divert my mind from the details of the preparation for the ride. Fortunately, my wife and I work for ourselves and I can't be fired!

Friday afternoon, I knocked off early, ran some errands and got home about 4:00 to assemble my gear and load the bike. First, of course, I checked the ldrider list, and what do I find, but e-mail about an IH 10 closure! A 100 mile detour right in the middle of our route, both ways!!!

I immediately forwarded the e-mail to Byron and called the DOT information line to check on the closure. It was true. A fifty mile stretch of IH 10 west of San Antonio was closed due to a tank truck collision and acid spill, and they said it would remain closed from 3 days to 3 weeks. The detour route for westbound traffic was provided as: from Junction, north to Menard, then west to Eldarado, then south to Sonora, and then back on IH 10. Eastbound, the route was reversed. This 100 mile detour bypassed 50 miles of IH 10, so it increased our distance by 100 miles for the round trip.

I figured we could easily compensate by simply moving our turn around point 100 miles east of El Paso, but this meant I would have to forego trying to include a MERA record with the ride, as we would have had to run past El Paso into New Mexico to get across a state line with our planned route. The extra 100 miles would have made this about 1,650 miles in 24 hours, which I considered too much for a first ld ride.

I had made arrangements with my former legal secretary, to let Byron and I come to her house in Spring (a north Houston suburb) to have our start and finish witness forms be signed and notarized by her. This seemed easier, than finding a police officer or judge at 4:00 AM.

Saturday morning, I was up at 3:00 AM, suited up and on the bike at 3:30, to meet Byron at 4:00 AM at a Burger King in north Houston, a 20 mile ride from my house.

4:05 AM, I met Byron and his beautiful R1100RT at the agreed spot and we called Rhonda on the cell phone, to alert her two motorcycles were about to invade the tranquility of her sleep and neighborhood at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

At about 4:15 AM, Rhonda greeted us in her driveway, reiterated what all my friends have assured me; that I am completely insane, but graciously witnessed our start forms and wished us luck.

My odometer reads, 16,560.5 miles at 04:27 AM. We are on our way. We backtrack to an Exxon station at FM2920 and IH45 north and top up our fuel and get receipts for our official start time. I take on 5.34 gallons, and the receipt says 04:43:20 AM for my official start time. I set one timer for a 24 hour countdown for the over all ride, and start the other timer counting up, to time my distance traveled and with a little mental calculation to give me my average speed.

Byron is GPS III equipped, but I will have to wait for Santa next year, as my wife has quite pointedly asked me if her "new furniture budget" is to match my motorcycle expenditures $ for $? My reply (frequently employed by husbands when cornered) was..."uhhhh"...

Byron offers to lead the first leg, and off we roll. The temperature was 44 degrees, but I am comfortably layered with long sleeve cotton t-shirt under my Widder electric vest, with another long sleeve t-shirt over it. On my legs I am wearing cotton long underwear under thin jogging warm ups. Over this, I am wearing my rain suit, which has "farmer john" style bib lowers, with a long jacket. The outside air temperature is 44 degrees the suit was perfect, without even turning on the vest.

Traffic was surprisingly heavy out of Houston at 4:45 in the morning. Byron set a pace of about 65 to 70 through town and out IH 10 until we cleared the city limits, and then kicked it up to about 75mph. My plan was to run at about 75 mph, and try to limit fuel stops to 5 or 6 stops of about 10 to 12 minute duration. I had a Camelback, and about 2,000 calories in "power bars" and planned to make no stops other that fuel.

By about 08:10, we hit San Antonio, and went through town on IH 10. Again I was surprised by the amount of traffic at this hour on Saturday, and this cut our speed to about 65 for about 20 miles through town.

At about 08:20 we stopped for fuel at a Shell station on the far of San Antonio. My pump refused to accept four different cards before I went in to learn the card reader was broken. I left cash, went out, filled the bike, back in and asked for a receipt. I checked the receipt time, noted it was an hour off, asked the clerk to correct it and initial it. Back out to the bike to make my log entry. I had taken on 7.72 gallons for 234.6 miles for about 30.4 mpg. This was my first long test of fuel consumption on the bike.

The pump receipt time said 08:24 (corrected) and my log entry was 08:31, and we were rolling again by approximately 08:34 so this stop was too long. The odometer read 16,798.6. Average speed, including the stop was only about 61 mph, below the minimum of 62.5 mph we had to maintain if we were to just "make it" with no cushion. I thought about the time lost in the San Antonio and Houston traffic, and now this stop, and already I began to feel the seconds slipping away like sand through my fingers.

I led the next leg, and started off at around 75mph indicated (later determined to be about 78 mph). Within about 30 miles, we hit the cold front. Obviously, it had moved eastward much faster than I had hoped. Temperatures dropped to the upper 30's, with continuous rain.

My first concern was that this again dropped our speed to around 65mph, well below the pace we needed to maintain; but visibility in the rain made any speed above this impossible. This worry however, was quickly replaced by a much greater concern.

Within 5 minutes my terrific Belstaff, Thinsolate and Kevlar lined gloves over Patagonia "expedition weight" glove liners were completely soaked through and utterly worthless. My hands went from warm as toast, to freezing. I began to periodically slip first one hand, and then the other between the lower fairing and the engine to let some engine heat warm the hand; but riding one handed in this downpour was too nerve wracking to keep up for more than brief stretches.

After about 100 miles of continuous rain, we arrived in Junction, and took the detour north. It had dawned on us at the last stop, that we would have to make one stop on the detour, each way, to document that we had taken the detour route. This was true, whether our fuel management required a stop or not. Our fuel was adequate on this outbound leg to probably ride then entire detour and refuel after Sonora,; but we could not necessarily count on the Iron Butt Association being able to later verify the detour after it had been removed. The consequence of this was one unnecessary stop outbound, and probably one on the way back as well. Additional wasted time!

The detour route was on secondary roads, one lane each direction. In the rain, with these road conditions I could not comfortably run faster than 65 mph indicated; particularly as I began to contemplate whether it was possible to sustain frostbite at temperatures above freezing. My hands felt as though frozen solid, and I could feel the water squish through them every time I used the clutch or brakes.

I had my vest switched on continuously, but now my boots were soaked through as well. Though my body was dry and warm, it didn't seem that I could pump enough heat in through my chest to make up for the loss through my hands and feet. The cold in my hands was now beginning to effect my ability to use the controls. They obviously were slower in movement, and the reduced feeling in my hands made it hard to gauge the pressure applied to the front brake.

By Menard, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw small white objects bouncing off the tank and windscreen. It took me a second to realize this was sleet. (In Texas we don't have much experience with frozen stuff falling from the sky.)

I was too cold, and at a stop sign told Byron I thought we should stop for a cup of coffee and go inside to warm up. He thought it was a great idea, so I turned into a local store. As I braked to turn into the store, unable to feel my brake with my right hand, I inadvertedly applied too much front brake, locking the front wheel on the wet pavement, and treated myself to an exciting momentary shindig, and avoided dropping the bike only by forceful application of boot to pavement.

We unplugged, unhelmeted, ungloved and walked in...no coffee! The clerk pointed down the road about 1/4 of a mile to Jay's Hamburgers and said that was the nearest coffee.

Too far to walk in pouring rain. I wrung about a cup of water out of each glove, and spent 5 minutes trying to force my left hand back into the sodden lining of my left glove which had pulled out when I removed it. The twisted mass of wet lining and insulating layers would not separate into fingers and resume their position in the outer glove; so I decided I could ride the 1/4 mile with my left hand fisted into an impromptu fingerless mitt, operating the clutch with only thumb and forefinger, and would sort it out over coffee. As I struggled with the glove I again felt the seconds ticking away and kept thinking to myself what a stupid thing to lose time over, after all my preparation; a malfunctioning glove!!

I had been unplugged for about 10 minutes now and suddenly found myself shivering. This was my first experience unplugging the electric vest after riding in cold conditions, and it immediately brought home to me the significant amount of supplemental heat that the vest was providing, and that riding in these conditions without it, would be impossible.

We went down the road to Jay's hamburgers. Considering the time already lost and the probability from all appearances that we were going to be in continuous rain for the rest of the ride; Byron and I decided we would alter our turn around point to Fort Stockton. This would give us about an 1,100 mile ride for an easy Saddlesore 1000. With plenty of time, for a SS1000, we indulged ourselves in breakfast.

10:55 AM. After two breakfast tacos, hash browns, three cups of coffee and about another 30 minutes of precious time wasted; I finally, stopped shivering, and felt human again. We climbed back on the bikes, and we were rolling. My odometer 16,926.0, and we took it easy, since we had plenty of time now for the Saddlesore1000.

12: 08 PM. We stopped in Eldorado to obtain a receipt documenting the detour, and refuel. I took on 6.97 gallons. Mileage was inexplicably down to around 26 mpg, despite our slower pace in the rain. I thought I had been sensing one cylinder drop out for occasional periods in the heavy rain, and attributed it to moisture reaching places it shouldn't. One characteristic of the Yamaha triples, is that they run so smoothly on two cylinders, sometimes it is hard to know if one isn't firing. Perhaps I had been running on two cylinders, and this explained my drop in economy.

We left El Dorado, still on the detour and in pouring rain. My maximum comfortable speed was still only about 65 mph. When we occasionally had to pass slower traffic on this wet, curving, two lane road, I found I had unconsciously locked the bike in a death grip with my knees; a clear sign I probably was doing something I shouldn't.

After about another 100 miles, the rain finally stopped, though the overcast continued to threaten immediate resumption. We were finally back on the Interstate, and able to pick up our pace a little at this point, running 70-75 mph though the road was still wet. My sodden gloves still felt like two lumps of ice encasing each hand, and I swore my first purchase after I got back would be a second pair of warm gloves, and some kind of rain cover.

At 14:41 we stopped for fuel at Fort Stockton. My odometer read 17,139.1, and I took on 6.87 gallons. Mileage was now down to 23.42 mpg, and but our average speed was 63.51 including time spent in the stop. We were now 578 miles from our start, and if we aborted to do a Saddlesore 1,000, this was our turn around point. It was time for a decision.

The temperatures were warming now, and overcast had thinned with occasional patches of blue. It appeared we had run through the front, and we would have better weather behind it as we ran to our turnaround point. My Radio Shack timer had quit in the rain, and I had not worn a watch as it is hard to reach under the gloves, thinking I could rely on the clock in the timer. Consequently, I had to ask Byron the time.

A little mental calculation told me, that there might still be a chance of making the Bun Burner Gold. At this point, we would have to ride roughly 920 more miles in our remaining time of 14 hours; requiring that we average about 66 mph including stops. We had just averaged 63.5 for the last leg, and so were going to have to pick up the pace if we wanted to make it.

On the plus side, we were past the front, with good weather ahead. We were at the point in our route where we hit the wide open expanses of west Texas. From here to Sierra Blanca and back was nothing but flat straight Interstate, and our chance to make up time if we were going to.

I also considered that with luck, by the time we got back to the point on our return where we would catch the front again, it hopefully would either have moved eastward enough to have passed Houston, or at least dropped all its moisture. I wanted to go for it, so I asked Byron what he thought. Byron said he thought it would be very close, but was agreeable to try.

I had been asking Byron at various stops to compare my speed indicated by my speedometer with his GPS, and to my surprise I had found it was pessimistic by about 5%. 80 mph indicated was actually around 84mph. Armed with this correction, I led off at what I calculated would be about 85 mph actual. I wanted to make up time, but with no radar detector, I didn't want to run so far above the limit that I couldn't react. It seemed more prudent anyway to make the time up by sustaining 85-90 for long periods, than running any faster.

By now we had blue skies, warm air, light traffic, straight Interstate, and the Davis mountains on either side. For the first time, I looked up from the roadway ahead, an enjoyed the scenery. This was what ldriders must live for... I exulted that I was going to turn around and ride right back through this beauty in just a few hours! I took my gloves off, and held the open end out in the airstream hoping to dry them, while trying to maintain 85-90, and stay vigilant for the Highway Patrol.

We ran 85 to 90 mph (actual) continuously for about 140 miles, until Byron pulled alongside, pointed to my bike and motioned for me to pull over. I pulled the to shoulder, and Byron pulled alongside to say I had started smoking.

We dismounted and I checked the bike. Some lubricant was streaked along the transmission case, and back along the outside of the exhausts where it was burning off and smoking. It also appeared "milky" as if mixed with water, but felt thick, more like transmission oil. I thought perhaps I had blown a transmission seal, and it was leaking onto the exhaust. I could not explain the "milky" appearance.

I had left the engine running and it sounded OK, so we decide to go on to our next planned fuel stop which was less than 15 miles, and check it out there. I led again at a sedate 65, babying the bike until we got to civilization. Byron followed, promising to watch for more smoke or worse.

We reached Sierra Blanca and stopped at the Exxon Station. I took the time to pull my tool kit and checked both my transmission and final drive lubricant levels. They were both fine!? I checked my oil level and added about 2/3 of a quart. I was using 15-50 weight Mobil One, so now I considered that perhaps I was blowing engine oil from somewhere, and the high engine heat simply caused it to adopt the 50 wt. viscosity; making me initially think it was 90wt. transmission oil. I could find no active dripping or evident leaks, and the wind had blown the oil around such that no source could be identified.

With only 850cc, and a full Vetter upper and lower fairings, I knew, that 85-90 mph was around 80-90 % of full throttle. From my experience as a pilot, I knew that high throttle settings always caused increased oil consumption due to higher internal crankcase pressures forcing more oil past the rings, as well as out of any weak seals and sometimes even the breather. I hoped that was the cause here; that I was blowing oil past the fill cap seal, and nothing worse. I resolved to drop 5 mph to the 80-85mph range, and check the oil frequently.

The odometer read 17,293.2. The receipt said 15:57 P.M., but it was actually 16:57 by "rider time". Despite the roadside stop and this extended stop, our average speed for the leg was about 67.5 mph,demonstrating that we were making good time, but barely staying on the required pace, in that part of the route where we had our best chance to make up time.

We had come only around 730 miles from our start, but after this town, there was nothing before El Paso, and consequently no place to document our turnaround. We decided we would have to make up the miles in Houston, on the other end. We had ridden 730 miles in 12 hours 14 minutes, and would have to do 770 more miles in the remaining 11 hours 46 minutes; requiring us to average 65.5 mph.

Whether we could make the Bun Burner Gold was still incredibly close, but seemed to be continuing to slip away. This fuel stop and checking the bike had consumed at least 15 minutes...more time lost... Nevertheless, we decided to continue to push for the Gold, and turned back toward Houston. I led again, so Byron could keep an eye on things from behind.

Back through the Davis mountains in the late afternoon was terrific. The low angles of the sun illuminated one side of each mountain and cast deep shadows on the other. I found my problem now was maintaining my focus on the road, as I wanted to gaze off at the scenery. Once or twice, I found myself running up on slower traffic while I had been gazing at the mountains and scenery. I realized that this inattention represented the first signs of mental fatigue, and I resolved to focus more carefully on my riding. I knew that despite the difficulties so far, the second 750 miles would be the real test of my stamina.

I thought we made good time to Bakersfield, and refueled at "The Filling Station #3". My odometer read 17, 481.6 and I took on 7.17 gallons, for 26.27 mpg. The receipt time showed 20:52, but it was actually 19.52. I had the clerk correct it manually. Our time for the leg had been 2:55 including the stop, for an average speed of 64.6 mph...below the pace again!

Byron led the next leg, which would take us back on the detour, and we planned to stop again in Eldorado to document the detour, even though we did not need fuel. It was dark by the time we hit the detour at Sonora, and again our speed dropped on the secondary roads to the 70 mph range.

By 22:02 we had made Eldorado and stopped to refuel at the same "Star Stop Food Mart" as we had earlier. Most of these stops were requiring we go into the store for receipts, as they did not have automated pumps, costing us more precious seconds. My mileage was 17,608.4 for 1,047.9 miles in 17 hours and 19 minutes! At least my Saddlesore 1,000 was done. Now I qualified to be an IRON BUTT!

Our speed for this short leg was only 59.9 mph, and my mileage was still around 26 mpg. We had 452 miles remaining, and only 6 hours and 41 minutes left. We would now have to average 67.6 mph to make it. With 9.5 gallons on board, at least with careful fuel management, I thought we should be able to make it with just one more stop.

Byron led again, as we continued on the detour. I would have liked to run faster, but it was not possible with the curves, traffic that had to be passed, and range of our headlights. On high beam, my 8" halogen seemed to illuminate 1/2 a mile down the road; but with oncoming traffic and using my low beams, I often felt I was overdriving the low beams whenever I approached 75 mph.

We hit the west side of San Antonio and refueled. The receipt showed 01:00 A.M. on the 15th, and mileage was 17,798.3 miles. Our average speed with the stop for this 189 mile leg had been only 64.01 mph, still below the pace. We needed at least 262 more miles, and had only 3 hours and 43 minutes. We would have to average around 71 mph or better to make it, a speed we had not yet been able to average. The prospects looked pretty dim.

Still, the run from San Antonio to Houston on IH 10 is all multi-lane Interstate. Between 01:00 and 04:43 A.M., I thought traffic should be light. I didn't know about Byron, but with only 9.5 gallons and my recent mileage of just over 26 mpg, the 262 miles would be damn close on fuel as well as time; but there was no way to stop again and make it.

Despite our diminished hopes, we decided to continue to try for it. I told Byron to lead, since without a timer or clock, I would not know how our remaining time was running. With his timer working and GPS, he would be able to watch the miles and time click down.

Byron picked a steady speed of 75mph, probably the best speed to make our distance and stretch our mileage; but traffic as we passed through the remainder of San Antonio was suprisingly heavy at that hour, and we frequently were slowed to 65 or even less.

Finally, clear of S/A, we settled into a steady 75 mph again. Fatigue was now becoming a factor. I found myself beginning to nod off. The first time it was terrifying to suddenly jerk myself awake and realize I had momentarily closed my eyes at 75mph on a motorcycle. Thank God for the straight road and no traffic.

Adrenaline charged and on guard now, I willed myself to stay awake. This worked for an hour or so; but eventually I found myself occasionally starting to succumb to the steady monotony of the Interstate, and tend to nod again. I knew I should stop, but that competitive core I carry (which my wife claims is testosterone fueled) would not let me quit while there remained a chance.

I also began to observe a new phenomenon. My brain was starting to misinterpret visual cues. I would see a shadow cast across the pavement, but my brain's initial interpretation was a pool of water! A hill set just off a curve in the road at first was mistaken for an office building in the middle of the road! I knew that this was another symptom of fatigue...not truly hallucinations, but a tired brain no longer able to rapidly process the visual input and arrive at the correct conclusion. However, each miscue did give me another scare and another little adrenaline jolt that would keep me going through another 10 minutes.

Finally, we hit the outskirts of Houston. With no idea of the time I did not have any clue how we stood. We road the loop 610 and turned north on IH 45 back towards our starting point. I knew once we reached it, we would still have to find another 40 miles to adjust for our turn point at 730 miles.

About 04:20 we turned into the same Exxon station in Spring where we had started the previous morning. I knew we were short of miles at this point, but I had no idea of time so I fueled immediately with 3.3 gallons in only the main tank, "just in case". I got the computer stamped receipt showing 04:27 A.M.. My heart sank, my gut told me we could not make it. I walked back to Byron's bike and checked his clock and the GPS. They agreed.

According to my odometer, which read 18,026, we had traveled 1,461 miles in 23 hours and 44 minutes. By the time my fuzzy brain coped with this math, Byron's timer showed 14 minutes remaining. Lets see.... 39 miles to go....14 minutes....we only need to average 168 mph.... but it is, after all, for a short duration....my tired mind actually contemplated this for a moment!

It was slow to sink in, but it was over...at least our Bun Burner Gold attempt was. The pressure was off, and I relaxed. Falling back to a Bun Burner 1,500, we now had 12 hours to do the final 39 miles.

Byron decided to head for home since it was nearby, and would finish after he slept. My home was still another 25 miles so back south, so I told Byron I would probably do the miles tonight, and we parted company.

A straight ride home would not give me enough miles, and any circuitous route was to hard to calculate in my condition; so I just decided to ride 12 miles the wrong way (north), and then turn around and ride home. I figured that would be about 50 miles and would give me a little cushion. I decided not to stop at my notary friends house, as she didn't deserve to be roused before daylight a second time when it wasn't necessary. I would get her to witness the miles later in the day.

I took my time now, and rode north 12 miles and then turned around for home. I finally arrived at the Texaco Station at Hwy 59 and Greenbriar, 1/2 mile from my home, and stopped to get my final receipt.

The odometer read 18,072.1 and the receipt showed 05:31 as the time. 1,511.6 miles in 24 hours and 48 minutes. My average speed for the entire route worked out to 60.95 mph, with all stops. Considering I had ridden around 30 miles initially just to get to the start, I figured my total miles at about 1,540.

I rode the 1/2 mile to my house, stripped out of my suit, kissed my wife and told her I was safe, and slipped into bed for 6 hours of blissful sleep.

POST MORTEM

Flying magazine used to have an article, entitled "I Learned About Flying From That", from which I have plagiarized and bastardized the title of this account.

After an "adventure" like this, I always like to later reflect on what I learned and analyze my mistakes. Over the last week I've been thinking about what I learned on this ride, and since it was my first long distance attempt, the wealth of knowledge I gained is staggering.

Though I know all you veterans on the ldrider list have long known these things, I am committing them to paper now, mainly so that I won't forget them later.

1. First, I guess, I learned that on a ride like this, the rider and the decisions he/she makes, are the true obstacles. It is truly a battle against yourself, to make the correct decisions, at the right time.

   Thinking back there are two or three decisions we made, that cost success in this attempt. The most obvious, of course was vacillating 200 miles into the rain, deciding to drop back to a Saddlesore 1,000 and treating ourselves to a 30 minute breakfast. Had we stayed with our objective and moved on quickly we would have made it easily. I take the blame here, as I felt just too cold to not stop. Next time, with better provisions for keeping my hands and feet dry, this should not be a problem.

   In hindsight, I also think that we should have run the first leg faster. The initial run through Houston and on to San Antonio was dry, straight interstate, and we were fresh and alert. Speeds for this 230 plus mile run were in the 65-75 mph range. Looking back I feel we should have run this at a steady 75-80 mph, to start building up a reserve of time to compensate for later unexpected problems. It now makes more sense to me to run fast and hard while I'm fresh and relaxed, than to do so 23 hours later when I'm exhausted and desperate. Had we done so, I believe we could have picked up 15-20 minutes on this leg. 20 minutes at the end would have left us 39 miles with 34 minutes to go, which would not have been difficult.

   I also think the combination of the weather and the detour cost us. Of course these are factors we could not control, except that I could have aborted the ride when I learned of the detour, or the probability of bad weather. I did not appreciate how much running the secondary roads, first in the rain and then at night, would drop our average speed. It also did not dawn on me that the detour would effectively add three unplanned fuel stops to document the ride: one in Eldorado on each pass through the detour to document the detour each way; and one in Sierra Blanca, the new turn around point we had to establish short of our originally planned destination of El Paso.

   The original plan had been to depart Houston, refuel on the far side of San Antonio; refuel in Fort Stockton: refuel and turn around in El Paso; refuel Fort Stockton; refuel San Antonio; refuel and finish time stamp in Houston. Only 5 stops not including start and finish. I actually made 8 intermediate fuel stops between the start and my ultimate finish at HWY 59 and Greenbriar. At 10 minutes each, this would have gained 30 minutes, leaving 39 miles to go in 44 minutes at the end...easily accomplished.

   The lesson here, is that deviating from your plan is going to cost you. Riding without planned fuel stops forces you to ride conservatively and stop when fuel is available, not necessarily when you need it. Also, I had simply not even considered "documentation stops". Lack of a plan does not allow coordination of "documentation stops" with required fuel stops, again costing time.

   Also, I think all my fuel stops took too long. I know that with a little better planning for accessibility of my money, credit cards, trip log sheet, and with just a little more hustle, I could have shaved 2-3 minutes from each stop. 2 minutes times 8 intermediate stops would have yielded 39 miles to do in 30 minutes...likewise very possible.

   Looking back I feel the combination of these factors probably cost us close to 80 or 90 minutes overall, and that in dry weather, riding our original plan would have resulted in 1,500 miles in about 22:30 to 23:00 hours.

2. I also learned some invaluable lessens about myself. I am concerned now, in retrospect, that I pushed myself to continue the final leg from San Antonio to Houston, after I found myself nodding off on the bike and realized that fatigue was causing me to be unable to process information rapidly enough to ride safely. This was poor judgment, and I won't do it again. I believe fatigue was clouding my thinking, and let my competitive nature and dogged determination override good judgment. I will be alert to this in the future, and I am determined to stop and rest when I hit that point. Nothing is worth the possible consequences of falling asleep on your motorcycle at 75 mph.

3. A good thing I learned, is that my equipment all worked fine, except my timer crapping out when it got wet. Now that I know this, next time it rains I'll just pop it off it's velcro attachment and slip it in my pocket. The auxiliary fuel system worked flawlessly, much to my delight. However, I believe I will still look for a larger main tank that will fit, as boosting my capacity from 9.5 gallons to 11.0 gallons might have eliminated two stops on this last attempt.

   I also learned my rainsuit worked great. With all the talk on the ldrider list about waterproof riding gear, I can't say enough good things about this gear. It is certainly not a "stitch", but it is absolutely dry. I spared this suit from my sailing days. It is the top of the line Boat US sailing foul weather gear. It is not cheap, about $270.00 for both top and bottom, but it was carefully designed for extreme ocean sailing conditions. It has a multi layer sealing system not only on the one zipper opening, but also has a double fold over seal and velcro closure system on each of its 987 pockets. If you want waterproof, this suit will do it. However, it does not "breath" much and is very hot in the summer.

   In this same line, I learned that my discomfort points were my hands and feet when wet, and my rear after so many hours on a stock Yamaha seat. These are things easily remedied, and will be taken care of before my next long distance ride.

4. I also learned that "Power Bars" are contained in impenetrable, people proof packaging, which not only cannot be opened wearing gloves, but cannot be opened after removing your gloves, or even with your teeth after snaking the bar under your helmet and baclava to bite the package... and finally...NEVER, EVER, sing to yourself after 22 hours on a motorcycle while wearing a baclava in a full face helmet. Your breath will knock you right off the bike.