About this time of year, 10 years ago, I started thinking about riding in a fundraiser for breast cancer called the Pony Express. I had been inspired the summer of 1998 when the PE ride came through Seattle. I don’t think I had yet bought my 1981 R65 BMW; I remember attending the event with Jim and Barb Horton.

Originally, I was only going to ride the first leg: Seattle to San Francisco. I’d only been riding about 18 months; I’d ridden from Seattle to northern California in August 1999, but my friend J.C. and I took three days to make the trip. With urging and support from WetLeather, I decided to ride to St. Joesph, MO. But I wanted to do most of the ride solo. (I’m still not a fan of large organized rides.) I rode about 6,000 miles in two weeks (and 1.25 back tires). (more…)

Once on the Washington side of the Columbia, 97 starts to rise, and we’re soon out of the “hot” and back into pleasant cruising temps.

I’m passed by a sporty red pickup truck – and fall in behind him. I can see that he has a radar detector of some sort stuck to his windshield – with the little suction cups like the V1 comes with. When he slows down, I slow down. It’s not too long before we meet a WSP, and I think how much more intensely our roads seem to be patrolled than Utah, Co, Ne, Wy, Nv… (more…)

Not one to fiddle with a pattern, I awake at 5:15 again. Not quite so bright and cheery as the prior two mornings, although I don’t really have a hangover. I listen to Steve and Winnie pack up and finally drag myself out of the tent about 6 am. Martin has coffee ready and folks are already getting ready to leave. Me, I’m taking a shower and thinking about leaving. (more…)

Ash joins us on the ride back. I’m still feeling in the groove, and am keeping up with Gooz. “He must be riding slower than he was on the way out,” I think. (he later confirms that he was riding hard, but not as hard as on the way out) (more…)

Well, I wake up at 5:15-5:30 again — I suppose it must be the “bright” outside the tent. It’s certainly not because I’m going to bed early!

No negative affects from last night’s champagne. Nice. (more…)

It’s Friday, I’ve been gone two weeks, and I got almost no sleep last night. But I feel great – a testament to the company, I’m sure.

Check in with Rick regarding dinner crew duties and he delegates me ‘steak griller’ — which means I don’t have to make the early afternoon meeting for assignments. Sit around and socialize and drink Martin’s coffee. Wander over to the resort for lunch with Ed et al … then come back and crash in the sun outside my tent site. Wake up sweating and decide napping inside the tent, in the shade and breeze, makes more sense. (more…)

I arrive in Bend at 3:17 (mountain time). About 30 miles outside of Bend, I remember that tonight is “grill your own” — but I can’t remember if I’m supposed to *bring* my own. So I decide to stop at Safeway – buy a steak (porterhouse, ymmmm), worchestershire sauce, tillamook cheese (for snacking while we wait to eat), and dark chocolate (it’s no longer in the 90s and 100s!). (more…)

The day starts with trying to figure out why the brake light doesn’t work – I discovered a loose wire last night while washing the bike. Thought I’d fixed it. Wait! The horn stopped working yesterday – check fuses. Yep, brake and horn are on the same (7.5) fuse. Guess which fuse size is _not_ in the spares?

So, fiddle with the wire – test with the good 7.5 amp fuse – voila, light and horn. Now need to get a replacement fuse before leaving. (more…)

A miscellaneous, catch-all type of post before I leave for the gather.

One more time, I prove I can’t read a calendar. Yesterday’s post should have read “day twelve” not “day eleven.” Time does funny things when you’re on the road. I don’t normally read a daily newspaper – but I still have to think about what day it is. And don’t always guess right. (more…)

Up at 6:15 and out the door, packed, at 7:30. It’s chilly this early in the morning in Idaho Falls. I wear my long-sleeved Jackson Hole tee-shirt.

I’m at the Motel West, on the way out of town on 26/20. Make Very Good Time running through country that gives new meaning to the word desolate. I keep thinking I’ve seen “desolate” … then there’s an even better (worse?) example. (more…)