My Winning 1999 Iron Butt Ride

Part I, Planning and Preparation

For me, the planning phase for the 1999 Iron Butt Rally started as I was being given a ride to a motel in Lubbock, Texas, on August 30th of 1997.  My 1995 K1100LT had just been pronounced Dead on Arrival at High Plains BMW.  I was in second place, almost exactly half way through the Iron Butt Rally, and was out for the count.  The cause of the total loss of compression in number four cylinder was eventually tracked to a melted intake valve.  It must have been a casting defect, a one-in-a-million fault that took 42,000 miles to manifest itself.

Anyway, there I was, being given a ride to a motel in Lubbock instead of riding towards the bonus- rich states of Arizona, Nevada and California.  I told myself that morning in ’97 that I would come back in 1999 and, as preposterous as this may sound, that I would win the Iron Butt Rally.  Further, I promised I would accomplish this Herculean feat on the same bike that was now sitting in a shed behind High Plains BMW in Lubbock. From that day on I was constantly planning for, and thinking about, the 1999 rally.  The dealer completed the repairs in October (BMW covered the work under the unlimited mileage warranty).  Early in ’99 the drawing for entries in the Iron Butt was held and I was notified that my name had been drawn.  It was time to get serious.

THE BIKE

I purchased my ’95 K1100LT used in ’97.  It had 20,000 miles on it at the time and was in very good condition.  Before the Iron Butt in ’97 I added PIAA driving lights, a custom-made auxiliary fuel tank and a Russell seat.  One other item that I installed in ’97 was a cold water drinking system. It consisted of a one gallon insulated jug, some plastic hose and a windshield washer pump.  I hooked it all up and powered the pump through a push-button switch mounted near the right grip. 

At first I thought the water system was a bit gimmicky.  However, the trip to Chicago for the ’97 ‘Butt convinced me otherwise.  It turned out to be very useful, not only for getting a cool drink of water whenever I wanted, (without first sucking a bunch of hot water!), but it also came in handy for rinsing off my face shield after passing through swarms of bugs.

There were several items I wanted to add to the bike before the ’99 rally and I began working on them as soon as I knew I was on the official entry list.  I replaced my aging Passport radar detector with a much superior Valentine One unit, adding the power and remote display modules.

I also added an electronic voltmeter/ammeter/thermometer called an Amputron made by Kriss Industries.  The Amputron is a very accurate device that had a large, easy to read display.  Although I wanted it too keep track of my electrical system, I later found that I would leave it on the temperature display mode most of the time.

The next accessory to be added was a Garmin Street Pilot GPS unit.  There were a few times on the ’97 ‘Butt when I was unsure of when a particular exit or road would be coming up.  On one occasion, in south Florida, I pulled off of the freeway twice to verify on a map that I hadn’t passed the desired exit.  I was hoping that the map on the Street Pilot would help eliminate this situation.  I wired the GPS in a way that allowed it to be powered all the time in order to keep the total time elapsed accurate.

I had a CB radio on my previous LT and found it handy on long rides for several reasons; the truckers can be very entertaining late at night and are frequently a source of useful information regarding road construction, traffic and weather.  So, in the summer of ’99, I installed a CB/intercom unit sold by Sierra Electronics in Ohio.  After adding an antenna the system was complete.

I added a set of lights to illuminate my sigma bicycle computer and Radio Shack timer.  The lights didn’t work properly and were a total waste of time.  A gooseneck map light did an admirable job of lighting the displays and would prove to be one of the most useful accessories I added.

The next piece of equipment I wanted was a laptop computer.  I knew that quickly determining the mileage to various bonuses would be a major benefit.  Also, in the ’97 rally, I made a mistake in planning my route on the second leg of the rally.  I was able to recover from it, but I wanted to avoid mistakes if at all possible on the ’99 rally.

I procrastinated too long in ordering a laptop via mail-order. A week before I was scheduled to leave for California, I called Office Depot in Grand Junction, about 100 miles from my home and on my way west.  They had a good stock of laptops and I decided to stop by and pick one up on the way.  I would take my CD-ROM disk containing AutoMap, the mapping software I had been using for years on my desktop computer, and I would pick up any other software I might need on the way to the rally.

The last things to take care of were the mechanical and maintenance requirements of the bike.  I had an annual service done on the bike in July and asked Mike, the BMW mechanic at all Sports Honda/BMW in Grnad Junction, to really look it over closely, keeping in mind I would be riding the Iron Butt.  I installed a new front tire, a Dunlop 591, at home a few days before I was scheduled to leave for Ojai.  A call to an independent bike shop, Starcycle, located about 60 miles form Ojai, for whom I had once worked, secured a rear tire.  I knew that the Dunlop 491 rear tire could get me through the entire rally, thus eliminating the need to make arrangements for tire changes.

The day before I left for Ojai I changed the oil and filter on the bike.  I normally use Mobile 1 synthetic oil, however, it is not as easy to find as almost any petroleum based oil.  So, for the rally, I switched to BMW brand oil.  At the time the bike had 88,000 miles on it and would regularly burn about one quart of oil between oil changes (done at 5,000-mile intervals) so I took two quarts of oil with me.

THE BODY

In keeping with my hope of winning the rally, I tried to do as much as I could to prepare myself as well as the bike.  I had been wanting to lose weight for some time and this seemed like a good excuse to finally do it.  I went on a ride in June and was introduced to a guy who had lost 30 pounds on the Atkins diet.  He was the third man my age that I had recently met that had success on this diet.  When I got home from the ride I bought a copy of Dr. Atkins’ book and began the diet.

By the time the Thin Air TT came along in late July, I had lost 20 pounds and was still losing.  I felt good and was able to keep losing when I went off the diet for the TT.  My 15-year-old son, Craig, and I rode the TT two-up.  We rode hard and managed to not only win the couple’s class, but we were also able to take home the Tourist Trophy, given to the rider(s) with the highest  point total.  It was, to my knowledge, the first time a couple riding two-up took the over-all win in a rally.  My friend, Gary Eagan, the winner of the ’95 Iron Butt, took second.

As a way of practicing for the Iron Butt, I would continually look at maps of the US.  Although I knew it was impossible to memorize all of the roads in the country, I wanted to try to learn the relationships of various cities.  Where was Boston in relation to Philadelphia, for example.  I also would visualize myself acquiring bonuses.  Sometimes I would fall asleep at night doing this.  I knew that wouldn’t be a good thing on the rally but, when I found I couldn’t get to sleep, I would use this to lull me.

Whenever I was on the bike I would pretend that I was on the Iron Butt. I would practice making my gas stops as fast as possible.  Eventually, I could consistently take on a full 10-½ gallon load of fuel in less than 5 minutes.

I also began to really pay attention to the signals my body would give me when I was riding.  I would time how long it would take from the onset of feeling tired to when I knew I needed to stop.  Through practice, I found that it was much more efficient to stop before I was totally exhausted and get some sleep. I could get back on the road feeling refreshed after a shorter nap than if I had waited until I was totally burned out.

THE PLAN   

In 1997 the Iron Butt started and ended in the Chicago area, which meant the rally was a five-leg event.  The first leg was from Chicago to Maine, a fairly short section. It was common knowledge that the points-per-bonus ratio got greater later in the rally. Therefore it was possible to take it easy for the first two, or maybe even three, legs of the rally, then come on strong in the final two legs.  Rick Morrison, the winner of the ’97 rally, used this strategy.

The ’99 event was a little different.  This time the start and finish were in Southern California, one of the four corners of the country.  The rally would be only a 4-legged affair.  I knew I could still skate a little on the first leg, but after that I would need to be moving up in the standings till the finish.   I would have to begin gaining points on the Washington to Maine leg and would need to continue riding strong until the finish.

My goal was to be in the top 25% of the field at the Washington checkpoint.  I wanted to be in the top ten in Maine, then, on the third leg, I wanted to make a push for the top 3.  Obviously, I wanted to be at the very top back in Ojai. 

One of the last tasks before the rally was to make cards with the checkpoint information.  I printed these cards out, one for each leg of the rally, and put them in the see-through pocket on the sleeve of my Aerostitch.  I also sent myself a “care package” to the checkpoint in Maine.  It included clean clothes and some additional Polaroid film

That was about it for planning.  Let’s face it, when you haven’t a clue where the bonuses are going to be, it’s pretty hard to develop a definite plan.

Finally, at 2:00 PM on Thursday, August 25th, I left my home in Carbondale, CO, bound for Ojai and the adventure of a lifetime!  I stopped in Grand Junction at my “local” BMW dealer, All Sports Honda/BMW to pick up a part I had ordered earlier.  Most of the employees at the dealership know me, and all wished me good luck on my upcoming ride.

I then rode to Office Depot where I picked out a Compaq Presario 1245 laptop computer.  I found a case for it that fit perfectly into the saddlebag.  I also bought an accessory that allowed me to power the computer from the cigarette lighter on the bike.  I strapped the box with the computer onto the fuel cell, put the case and battery eliminator in the saddlebag, and rode back to the BMW dealer.  Once there I unpacked the computer, instruction book, battery and the charger and re-packed them into the case and into the bike.  I took the now empty box into the dealership and asked the parts manager to ship it home for me

On the way to Ojai I stopped in Primm on the Nevada-California border, (you just can’t beat a clean room for $25.00 a night).   Once in my room I plugged the battery and charger into the computer and glanced at the instruction book.  Within an hour I had AutoMap installed and had created 4 routes, each comprising a leg of the rally.  Once these routes were saved it would be faster, while on the rally, to plot an actual route including bonuses.

Friday was spent riding to Southern California and securing a room not too far from where I was to get my tire installed the following day.  I took a long swim in the motel pool Friday afternoon, then  rode to Santa Monica to have dinner with my sister.  It was almost ten at night when I got back to the motel, but I went out and took another quick swim anyway.  It helped me cool off from the scorching heat, and it helped me get to sleep more quickly.

Saturday morning I had my tire changed at Starcycel in Castaic, then rode to Ojai, arriving  around eleven in the morning.  I began to see many of my fellow competitors gathered about. Pat Widder, of Widder Enterprises, had graciously agreed to shut down his business for a few days to host the start and finish of the rally.  There was a spread of fresh fruit, candy and nuts and cold drinks for the participants and staff.  What a great set-up!

I was signed in by the rally staff, sailed through tech inspection, and rode the 25 or so mile odometer check.  After that, it was time to wait in line for a brief “talk” with Lord Kneebone, as Mike is known during the rally.  The talk went quickly; I was asked if I had any questions about the rules and was told that the trophies and plaques that finishers might receive were not worth taking any great risks for.

The rest of Saturday was spent visiting, securing some Polaroid film, and more swimming.  I have found over the years that swimming a cauple of hours each day for the two or three days before the startof a rally helps me sleep better.  Many competitiors complain of not being able to get a god night’s sleep before the start of the ‘Butt. The anxiety and anticipation are just too much to bear.  Swimming has cured that problem for me.

We had a banquet Sunday at which we received information from a number of people about what to expect. It was all pretty lighthearted.  Finally, we were told our rally numbers and were given our packets containing the bonuses for the first leg. We couldn’t go out bonus hunting that night, however, since we weren’t going to get our rally flag, required in a photo of each bonus, until 10 AM the next morning. I took my packet back to my motel room and got to work, full of anticipation about the upcoming 11 days!

Part II, THE RALLY

LEG ONE; OJAI TO KENNEWICK

As has been his custom in the last few Iron Butt Rallies, Mike Kneebone arranged the bonuses on the first two legs of the rally into groups, or “poisons”. Once you began to collect bonuses from one poison, you couldn’t collect some from another, at least not without discarding the ones from the first.  I scanned the four poisons and quickly discarded several bonuses.  It was pretty clear that it wouldn’t be possible to go to Tok, Alaska, and then back to Kennewick in the allotted 32 hours.  I also discarded the entire bonus pack that took us to Arizona before heading to Kennewick.  It was worth almost the most points (other than Alaska) and could definitely be done, but it would allow little time for sleep.  My plan was to get into check one well before it opened so that I could get enough sleep to prepare me for the long leg to follow.

I settled on poison #3, making one adjustment and deleting the Sequoia Park bonus from my itinerary.  I didn’t want the hassle of following motorhomes over a two-lane road in the hot August afternoon.  I plugged the remaining bonuses into my previously created journey in AutoMap and it instantly spit out a route of 1,506 miles.  However, the route had me going through Death Valley, one of the hottest places on the planet in August.  I decided I’d rather not ride through Death Valley, so I inserted a “via” into the journey in Baker, CA.  This took me around the Death Valley and only added 55 miles to the overall route.  I divided the 1,561 miles by the 32 hours that was allowed for leg one, and came up with an average necessary speed of almost 49 miles per hour, which was an easy average to maintain.  I saved the route in the computer, wrote out a route sheet on a steno pad, and packed up.  I took another swim, then a quick shower and was off to bed.  I slept surprisingly well.

DAY ONE 

Monday, August 30^th,

(days end at midnight)

I was up at seven Monday morning and, after breakfast, went to Widder’s.  Although I could see anxiety in many of the rider’s faces, I personally felt very calm.  I believed I was as prepared as I could be; I had a route that I knew was doable, and everything seemed to be falling into place. 

We had a brief rider’s meeting in the parking lot and then it was off to the bikes.  I donned my Aerostich, helmet and gloves and rode the bike to the back of the quickly forming line.  Within minutes I was at the front and was handed my rally flag with my number, 48, on it.  I pulled out of the parking lot a few minutes past ten.

I immediately found a use for my GPS unit that I had not expected; the “overall average” speed indication.  As long as it was above the 49 mph that was necessary, I was in good shape.  When the overall average was substantially above the necessary speed, I could afford to stop for sleep.

The first day was pretty uneventful.  The only thing I encountered out of the ordinary was a heavy layer of smoke that was hanging over Yucca Valley.  There were some serious fires burning near Victorville that were filling the surrounding valleys with smoke.  As I came into Las Vegas from the north I found the same smoke hovering there as well.

As I pulled into a gas station in Cedar City to get my gas-receipt bonus, I noticed that friends (and former Iron Butt winners) Gary Eagan and Rick Morrison, were standing by the pumps laughing like a couple of schoolgirls.  I asked, “What are you guys laughing at?”  “You” Rick replied, “and us”.  I was confused and asked what was so funny.  They replied that they thought we were going to get into Kennewick way too early.  Then Gary said, “I don’t think I could get a four year degree, but I’m sure I can get an AA degree in the time we’ll have before the check opens”.  I busted up laughing!  It was priceless Eagan.

Somewhere in Idaho I met Shane Smith and Fran Crane while stopped for gas.  We chatted a few minutes, then they were off.  That’s the way the Iron Butt is; you can ride for hours, or even days, without seeing anyone you know then, in the middle of nowhere, you will come across friends doing the same crazy thing you are.

DAY TWO

Tuesday, August 31st

I continued west, through Idaho and Oregon and, finally, into Washington.  I got off the exit in Kennewick a little before eight in the morning on Tuesday, just 22 hours into the rally.  The check location, a large motorcycle dealership, was locked up tighter than a bull’s butt in fly season.  I cruised around and finally found a Denny’s Restaurant.  I ordered eggs benedict and a glass of water and reviewed my route sheet, making sure my entries on the bonus list were legible and accurate. After breakfast I checked into a motel and took a quick shower. I made some entries into a log in the laptop and added up my points for leg one. After setting the timer for six hours I went to bed.

I got up from my first “night’s sleep” around 3:30 Tuesday afternoon and rode to the check.  After being signed in and having my points scored, I rode to a store and bought some granola bars and other food that I could stash in my tankbag.  It was my plan to ride leg two to Maine with as few stops as possible; all eating and drinking would have to be done on the bike.  I grabbed a quick bite at a Carl’s Jr., then headed back to Crocodile Motorsports, the location of the check.

Before the bonus packs were handed out for leg two, Mike gave us all a little speech.  He admonished a few riders for going the “wrong” way from Ojai.  I guess they were headstrong enough to go to Arizona.  I made a mental note of whom these riders were and looked at them closely.  They looked very tired!

Mike then held up a map of the United States that had all of the bonuses in the entire rally marked on it.  It really was no help to the riders to see the map; there was no way of knowing which bonuses were on which leg, and, he only held it up for 60 seconds, not enough time to memorize much of anything. 

At this point Ross Copas, a friend and former Iron Butt winner, asked me if Suzy Q Johnson could use my room after I left.  I said sure, and we set looking for Suzy Q.  Once the bonus packs were handed out I went straight to my room.  On the way I realized I hadn’t even checked the standings.  It really didn’t matter to me at that point.

LEG 2; WASHINGOTN TO MAINE

While I was verifying that I had all of the pages in my packet, I noticed a large bonus in Hyder, Alaska.  After I finished counting the pages, I plugged Hyder into my prepared journey and came up with a distance of 4,327 miles.  Dividing by the 89 hours that we had to do the leg in gave me a necessary average speed of 48.6 mph.  This was an easy pace (I averaged almost 71 mph for the first leg, but I didn’t sleep at all).  However, I didn’t feel comfortable with the Hyder bonus route. There are just too many unknowns going to Alaska; numerous animal problems (hitting a moose will really ruin your rally!), several international border crossings and the fact that most of the route would be in Canada, with it’s reduced speed limits.  As with everyone else on the rally, I passed on Hyder.

The bonus set that appealed to me the most contained stops in Utah, near my home in Colorado, then at Ron Ayer’s home in Plano, Texas, and one in Tennessee.  I plugged these bonuses into the program and came up with a leg of 4,031 miles requiring a 45.3-mph average.  This looked good to me, so I wrote out a route sheet and began to pack.

It was about then that Mary Sue Johnson showed up. She was very upset at herself for having lost a gas receipt (and the corresponding 500 points!) on leg one.  She asked where the bonuses were on the next leg and I told her the biggest poison had us going to Hyder.  She commented “There’s no way to do that and get to Maine on time!”  I agreed and told her about the loop down to Ron’s place.  She said that wasn’t possible either.  I kept my mouth shut and continued to pack; in my mind I was covering my ears and babbling profusely so as not t hear her! Before I left I told her to take a shower, take a nap and hopefully things would look better when she got up.  Apparently I was wrong.  I found out when I got to Maine that Mary Sue had dropped out of the rally in Kennewick and headed home.  She had some very pressing personal and job issues to deal with.  I was sorry to hear that she was no longer with us, she was a tough competitor having completed two Iron Butt rallies, placing in the top ten in ’97.

I hit the road in Kennewick just before 9 PM, feeling very good and well rested.  As I was passing through Boise near midnight I was pulled over by an Idaho State Trooper.  Apparently I hadn’t slowed down enough to suit him when the speed limit dropped to 65.  As I was getting my “performance award”, as they have come to be called in the Long Distance Riding community, Gary and Rick went flying by. 

DAY THREE

 Wednesday, September 1st

About 50 miles down the road I came upon two bikes off on the shoulder.  I stopped to find Gary and Rick trying to patch a hole in the rear tire on Rick’s LT.  He wasn’t having any luck getting the BMW plugs to hold.  I told him I had the answer and got out my Stop-and-Go plug gun kit.  It had been over a year since I bought it and had practiced on a used tire.  The first attempt failed, leaving the plug in the gun.  I got out the instructions and re-read them, then we tried again.  This time the plug stayed in the tire, as well as the CO2 from three cartridges.  Rick and Gary thanked me profusely for stopping and helping.  I told them I couldn’t leave fellow competitors, especially my friends, out there in the middle of the night.  We said our good-byes and I was on my way.  I later found out that Rick had to add air to the tire at every gas stop, but that he made it to his pre-arranged tire change in Boston.

One item of maintenance I didn’t’ do before leaving home was to re-calibrate my Fuel Plus unit.  This condition reared its ugly head as I was traveling on Interstate 80 east of Salt Lake City just before six in the morning.  The Fuel Plus said I had about six miles of range left when, just as I was approaching an exit, the bike started to cough.  I pulled off on the exit which led to Henefer.  Much to my disappointment, Henefer was a few miles down the road.  I coaxed the bike along until it finally died, 150 yards from a gas station!  I walked to the station, arriving at 6:30, but it wouldn’t open until 7:00.  I sat down to wait.

A few minutes later Richard Bernecker showed up.  It seems his K bike was out of gas as well, but at least his was still running.  We talked about the rally and he told me that he, too, was going to Ron Ayer’s home in Texas.  However, he said he didn’t believe it was possible to do the other bonuses on the poison.  Again, I shut my ears a tried not to let him influence my plan.  A lady showed up at seven and opened the station and, within a few minutes, Richard and I were on our separate ways.

Gary and Rick caught up to me a little while later and we rode east on US 40 together.  Soon we caught up to Shane Smith and formed a caravan heading for Dinosaur Monument in Utah.  After going into the building at the monument, and taking pictures of dinosaur bones, I did something I told myself I wouldn’t do on this rally; I let Shane convince me that we couldn’t make it to the Canyonlands bonus in Utah.

The four of us split up as we left the monument.  I waved Shane over a few miles down the road and told him I had given him some bad information regarding a road in Colorado.  He told me he had already figured that out and was on his way.  As I rode along I began to doubt Shane’s assertion about Canyonlands, so I pulled off the road and double-checked my math.  I was, again, convinced I could do the bonus and re-routed myself.  I would later see Shane at Ron Ayer’s house where he asked me if I had done the Canyonlands bonus.  When I told him I had he seemed upset.

As I entered Canyonlands I met Don Moses, an entrant from Nevada.  We rode to the very end of the road in Canyonlands National Park and took pictures over-looking the canyon.  I made a note to come back here with my family; it is a very impressive view!  The next bonus was in Crawford, Colorado, only 80 miles from my home.  On the way I stopped by my local BMW dealer in Grand Junction (it was right on the route), to buy a quart of oil.  All of the guys in the shop said, “What are you doing here, you’re supposed to be on the Iron Butt”.  “I am on the Iron Butt,” I said. Even with that established, I had to wait to pay for my single quart of oil.

After the slight delay at the BMW dealership, I headed out onto some very familiar roads; US 50 and CO 92.  These are roads literally in my “back yard” and are frequently ridden on day trips.  When I arrived in Crawford, I saw Gary and Rick suiting up to leave. We chatted a while and I watched them ride off to the south.  I went into Pam & Joe Cocker’s Mad Dog Ranch and Café to get my souvenir that was required for the bonus, (although I had at least one in the pocket of my ‘Stitch from a previous visit).  I caught up to Rick and Gary at the junction of CO 92 and US 50 and followed them into Gunnison where I lost track of them when I was stopped at a red light. I continued on, turning south on one of my favorite roads in Colorado, CO 114.

DAY FOUR

 Thursday, September 2nd

I continued on to Clayton, New Mexico, where I stopped about 1:30 in the morning for a 1 ½ hour nap, after which I rode to Ron Ayer’s home in Plano.  Ron and his wife Barbara were great hosts, Ron cooking hamburgers on the Bar-be-Que, and Barbara helping out with drinks and snacks.  Ron was surprised that I hadn’t gone to Hyder, asserting that it was definitely doable this time.  After my burger and a bottle of water I headed out.  Ron provided all of the riders that stopped at his place with a route sheet showing the quickest way to Dollywood then on to Gorham.  It was much appreciated.

I began to get tired about three in the afternoon and pulled off the freeway to take a quick nap.  I couldn’t find a rest area, so I just pulled into a shaded area next to the freeway.  It was pretty warm out, so I took the ‘Stitch off and lay down, using my bike cover as a ground cloth, and set my sleep timer for one hour.  I woke up fifteen minutes later.  The reason was a swarm of small, black ants crawling on my arms and biting me.  I sat up and brushed the ants off.  I then reasoned that, since it took fifteen minutes to be bothered by them, should I just lay back down and get another fifteen minutes sleep?  I chose to suit up and go looking for better sleeping accommodations.  As it turned out, I rode all the way to Maine before stopping to sleep again.

My GPS unit told me I was averaging over 65 mph, well ahead of schedule, so I stopped on the east side of Littlerock at a truck stop for dinner.  My drinking system had stopped working, so I spent a few minutes in the parking lot tracing the problem.  I determined that the wires had come un-soldered at the back of the switch that actuated the pump.  I striped some insulation off of the wires and zip-tied them to the bracket in such a way that I was able to hold them together, thus actuating the pump.  I didn’t want to be without this accessory.

DAY FIVE

 Friday, September 3rd

As mentioned, we had a bonus in Tennessee.  We had to take a picture of the sign at the entrance to Dollywood.  It was here that Shane Smith had an encounter involving a security guard confiscating his rally flag when he affixed it to Dollywood property.  I arrived about daybreak and noticed a number of people milling around the entrance.  I didn’t know, at that time, about Shane’s problem, but something just didn’t “feel” right.  I chose to hang my flag from my bike, then lay down on the ground behind the bike so I could take a picture looking up, past the bike, to the sign that needed to be in the picture.  Using this method I had no problems at all and was out of the area within 5 minutes, bonus in hand.

The ride through Virginia, Pennsylvania and into New York was totally uneventful.  I had dinner in New York and, afterward, felt very refreshed.  Once back on the road I continued all the way to Maine.  It turns out, in retrospect, that this section of the rally was the most important for me.  I was able to ride all the way from east Texas to Maine without stopping to sleep.  This allowed me to get into Maine early enough to get a full night’s sleep.  This was critical, in that it made it possible for me to make a strong push in the third leg of the rally.

DAY SIX

Saturday, September 4th

I got into Saco, Maine, a few miles from Gorham, about midnight.  I tried two motels, but both had “No Vacancy” signs out, even though there were no cars in the parking lots.  Oh well, it was pretty late. 

I finally spotted a Holiday Inn Express and pulled in.  The motel was obviously brand new; the landscaping wasn’t even done.  I walked in and the young lady was very helpful in getting me a room.  She even told me that the bed in the room hadn’t ever been used!  I took a shower, made some log entries and got to bet about 1:00 am.  I set my sleep timer for 9 hours, but woke up after sleeping only eight.  I casually packed up and rode the 14 miles to the check in Gorham.

As was the case in the ’97 rally, the folks at Reynolds Motorsports put out a great spread for the riders and staff of the Iron Butt.  I got checked in and had some of the Subway sandwiches that were provided.  I retrieved the “care package” I had sent to myself and got out the clean clothes.  I didn’t need any of the extra film I had sent; I hadn’t used much of what I had brought from home.  In the service department I asked if I could use a soldering iron to repair my water system.  The service manager happily handed me a soldering iron and told me where I could work on the bike.  I had the wires fixed within a few minutes and returned the iron.  At that time I noticed that Jeff Johnson, another competitor and friend, had his 1100 LT up on one of the mechanics platforms.  I asked what the problem was and he said the bike didn’t feel right so he was having them do a compression check.  I helped by holding the throttle open and pushing the starter button while the mechanic did the test.  Jeff’s bike checked out OK, the problem was apparently a bad batch of gas.

The results were posted for the second leg of the rally.  I had achieved my goal; I was in third place, behind Rick and Gary who were tied for second.  A 3-point bonus I passed up in Virginia dropped me below my buddies. Eddie James held the top spot,  266 points ahead of Rick and Gary.  I received my bonus pack and began to prepare for my “big push” to the top of the standings.

Leg 3, Maine to Florida

DAY SIX

Saturday, September 4^th, (continued)

We received our bonus packs for the third leg of the 1999 Iron Butt Rally at Reynolds Motorsports in Gorham, Maine, at four in the afternoon on September 4th.  I had already booted up the laptop (this model was very slow at this!), and left it on my Aerostitch in the shade at the side of the service building.

As soon as I got the packet, and verified that I had the proper number of pages , I scanned for the largest bonuses.  It was clear that a picture of a bridge connecting New Brunswick to Prince Edward Island was the most valuable.  There was another good-sized bonus in the same area near Cutler, Maine, (on the Iron Butt, 300 miles is “in the area”).  The other large bonus on this leg was in Maryville, Tennessee.  I entered these three places into the AutoMap journey and came up with a route of 2,610 miles.  We had 48 hours in which to do the leg, so that worked out a 54.4-mph average.  A little tougher than the pace required on the first two legs, but definitely within the range of possibility.  I knew this was my chance to move up in the standings and that I had to take some chances in order to win the rally; I decided to go for it.

The trip up to New Brunswick was very nice.  When I approached the border crossing into Canada I disconnected my Valentine and put it in the tank bag.  I wasn’t planing on speeding through Canada, especially after the warning I got from the officer at the border crossing; “Be careful, there are a lot of moose up there”.

DAY SEVEN

 Sunday, September 5th

I had passed Peter Hoogeveen in Maine but, somehow, he got ahead of me.  I caught up to him about 2 a.m. as we were heading up Highway 2 in New Brunswick.  He seemed to be moving along very nicely, so I stayed behind him, figuring “who better to follow through Canada than a Canadian”.  I switched my GPS unit to read speed in Kilometers-per-hour.  About 2 A.M. a Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) car passed me.  He didn’t seem to even notice me, and pulled in behind Peter, lights ablaze.  I thought to myself “Great, he’s going to pull Peter over and let me go”. I dropped back a little, then moved into the left lane.  Just as I was approaching his car he jumped out, nearly blocking my path, and waved for me to pull over.

The officer was very polite and business-like as he gave us the tickets.  He told us we should slow down because “There are a lot of moose up here”.  After he finished with his business, he started looking over my bike. He pointed to the water jug and asked what it was.  He then asked about the fuel cell.  I was munching on a granola bar I had taken out of the tank bag when he said “Geez, extra water, extra gas, extra food; you guys don’t plan on stopping much do ya?”  “No”, I said, “that’s the name of the game, don’t stop”.  “Well” he said, “I guess I ruined your day, eh?”  “Yes”, I replied, “and it’s only two hours old”. 

Peter pulled out while I was putting my paperwork back and finishing my snack.  A ways up the road I came into the city of Moncton and the map on the GPS was showing two ways to get to the bridge; both looked equal in length.  I spotted another RCMP car at a gas station just off the freeway, so I pulled off and asked the officer which was the fastest way to get to Bayfield, the nearest town to the bridge.  “Where’s Bayfield?” he asked.  “Oh boy,” I thought, “what a night!”  “It’s up near the Confederation Bridge” I told him.  “Oh yeah.” he said.  “Well, if I were you, I would stay on 2 until just before Nova Scotia, then turn left.  You could go up the 15 but...” I interrupted him and said, “I know, there are a lot of moose up there”.  “Well” he said, “I was going to say there are a lot of drunk drivers up there, but there are a lot of moose too”. I thanked him for his help and headed off.

After the build-up that was given to this bridge in the bonus pack, (it was brand new and the only one of it’s kind in the world), I expected something on the order of the Golden Gate Bridge. What I found was disappointing; there was a two-lane road going onto a bridge with a large iron structure over it and an electric sign that alternately flashed “Confederation Bridge” and “Confederation du Port”.  I tied my flag to one of the supports and took a picture, timing it so that the English version of the sign was visible.  However, the flash on the Polaroid was not sufficient to reach the sign above the roadway.  I had no choice; I was going to Prince Edward Island.

The bridge was seven miles long, perfectly straight and, except for a hump for the ships to pass under, was also perfectly flat.  I met Peter as he was coming back across the bridge at what must have been the top speed of his CBR blackbird; he was flying!

As I approached the far end of the bridge I instantly saw what I was looking for; a large, well lit sign saying “Confederation Bridge” stood among a beautiful arrangement of flowers. There was even a gift shop, gas station and visitor center.  It seemed like the government of Prince Edward Island put a lot more money into the bridge than did that of New Brunswick!

After the bridge I headed back to Maine via the same way I had come.  All the way up and back I had been on the look-out for moose.  I was disappointed that I saw none.  (I have been told since that I should be glad of that fact).

I stopped in Calais, the first town inside the US, for gas.  In anticipation of a busy, Labor Day weekend, there was a stack of cases of Pepsi at the pump island.  I parked my bike on the far side of these cases, out of view of the station.  I had to go inside to get a receipt for the gas and bought a cup of coffee and a pack of donuts.  The clerk, a woman in her early twenties, asked where I put all of the gas.  I told her “In my motorcycle”.  She said she had never seen a motorcycle that took that much gas.  I went back out to the bike and was drinking my coffee and studying a map when she came up behind me. She saw the tape deck on the bike and asked if it worked.  “Of course it does.”  I replied.  She said, “Well, I don’t hear anything”.  I told her that the music went into the helmet.  At that she reached up and grabbed my helmet, which was still on my head, and said, “Let me hear it!”  I took the helmet off and helped her put it on.  I had a Kenney Rogers tape in the deck and she started rocking back and forth to the music.  She said, “I know this song.  My mom listens to this guy all the time”.

She asked me all kinds of questions about the bike, which I politely answered (I wasn’t done with my coffee and donuts yet).  When I heard Peter’s Blackbird pull up behind me, I told her, “If you want to see a really neat bike, go check out his”.  She went over to where Peter was putting gas in the CBR.  I didn’t catch the whole conversation, but I did hear her say, “You gotta give me a ride”.  I remember thinking that Peter was single and, if he played his cards right, this could be a real interesting gas stop for him.  I would later meet Peter’s girlfriend, and knew then that the gas station clerk posed no temptation.

Apparently, Peter was in no mood to give her a ride and she soon was back at my side.  She said, “I think your bike looks more comfortable than his”.  I had to agree with her on that.  I told her it was nice talking to her, but that I had to get going.  She asked where we were headed and couldn’t believe when I told her Saint Augustine, Florida.  I think she almost fainted when I told her I had to go via Tennessee and had to be in Florida in about 34 hours.  I left the station with her walking back towards Peter.

The bonus near Cutler Maine was at a Navy installation.  Our bonus packs told us not to bother the guard at the gate, but to take our picture through the fence.  As I was getting my camera and rally flag out of the bike, the guard came up to me and asked if he could help me.  I asked if he knew what I was doing there.  “No”, he said, “should I?”  I told him about the rally and that I needed a picture of the sign nearby.  He followed me to the fence and, when he realized what I was trying to do, said, “Come on inside the fence, you’ll get a better picture”.  I asked him if he was sure that was OK, telling him I didn’t want to cause any trouble.  “No problem” he said, “None of the Zeros are up this time of day (it was about six in the morning)”.  I knew from talks with an employee of mine that “Zeros” was what the common sailor called officers.  He was happy to hold my flag while I took the picture.  I thanked him for the help; he seemed really glad to have had some company.  I guess standing guard all night at a Navy installation in Maine is not very exciting work.

I traveled back down the northern part of Maine, choosing to take the coast road rather than go over to Interstate 95.  It was really nice passing through the small fishing villages along the coast.  There was fog over the ocean, so I didn’t get many views of it, but I had very enjoyable ride all the way to Bangor.

Back on I-95 I stopped in New Hampshire for gas and to fill my water jug.  I had a problem with the lady running the market at the gas station.  Suffice to say that she was very unfriendly and uncooperative.  I finally got my jug filled, bought a pack of Twinkies, and headed out onto the interstate.  It was here that I learned that the filling leaking out of the holes on the bottoms of Twinkies will act as glue.  If you stick them on a tank bag, they will stay put!  I was upset at the (lack of) service at the station and allowed my anger to trickle down to my right wrist.  As I got on the freeway I was hard on the gas, moving quickly through the gears and through traffic.  I noticed a guy leaning out of the passenger window of a car up ahead, frantically waving his hands and arms.  I thought “What’s wrong with that spaz”.  As I got closer I realized that the “spaz” was none other than Bob Higdon, Mike Kneebone’s right hand man.  And furthermore, Mike himself was driving the car.

I had half a Twinkie left and was raising my hand to throw it at Higdon when I realized what he had been waving about; a New Hampshire State trooper was in the next lane over.  I pondered throwing the Twinkie anyway (while decelerating to the speed limit).  I came up with three reasons not to do it: 1) I could be disqualified from the rally for un-sportsmanlike conduct; 2) I could be cited, or maybe even arrested, for littering.  But the most compelling reason not to throw it was; 3) it was 25% of my breakfast and tasted good!

I finished off the Twinkie, waved good-bye to the Iron Butt officials, and proceeded to the Massachusetts State line, the New Hampshire State trooper in tow.

It seems that hurricane Dennis, after going out to sea and being downgraded to a tropical storm, came back ashore and moved far inland.  I encountered very heavy rain in Hershey, Pennsylvania.  At one point, after riding through some large pools of water, the bike faltered, dropping to less than four cylinders.  I figured I had a bad plug wire or connection and began looking for an exit.  Before I could get off the freeway, the problem self-corrected and the bike began running fine.

DAY EIGHT

 Monday, September 6th

I got off the freeway at a rest area in West Virginia, put the bike on the centerstand and laid my head on the tankbag for a one-hour nap.  The timer went off and I awoke to see red and blue flashing lights all around.  It was only one patrol car, but the lights were reflecting off of everything.  I remember thinking, “All I was doing was sleeping, that’s not illegal, is it?”  I looked over and saw two fellow rally members, Bobb Todd and Greg McQueen, talking to a trooper.  I went into the restroom and splashed water on my face to help me wake up.  When I came out, the trooper had returned to his car.

Bobb and Greg told me of their plight hunting bonuses in the near-hurricane weather.  I told them I had gone north to PEI (as I found out the locals call Prince Edward Island). Greg asked if they could “tag along” with me on the way to Maryville, TN.  He said, when he went to Dollywood a few days earlier, that he had seen the billboard we would be looking for.  “Great,” I said, “when we get close you lead us to the billboard”.  We got on the freeway and, within an hour, I could no longer see Greg and Bobb in my mirrors.  “Oh well, they’re big boys” I thought to myself.

I got off the freeway and dropped down to Pigeon Forge, where Greg said he had seen the billboard.  I couldn’t even find the correct road, let alone the billboard.  It was about three in the morning when I saw two city police officers in Gatlinberg having their “lunch”.  I stopped and asked them the quickest way to Maryville.  They directed me through Great Smoky Mountain National Park, one of them saying “It’s a challenging road on a motorcycle”.  The other officer countered with, “I’d rather be challenged by the road than by the drunk drivers out on the interstate.”  I headed off into the park, PIAAs ablaze.

I found the billboard near Maryville with ease; it was right on the road.  After a quick gas stop I rolled on out I-40. Not too far down the road I began to get tired just before the sun came up, so I pulled off in a remote mountainous area and found a wide place to lie down. The timer went off one hour later, just as the sky was beginning to lighten.  I like taking naps at this time of the morning; waking up to a rising sun seems to trick my body into thinking that it got a full night’s sleep.

I arrived at the checkpoint in Saint Augustine at 3:00 in the afternoon.  When Mike Kneebone read off my odometer reading to Bob Higdon, who entered it into the computer, Bob said “Oh my God”.  I guess he was little surprised at the 2,500-plus miles I had ridden on the third leg.  We were due to get our bonus packs for the fourth leg of the rally at seven that evening, but I told Mike and Bob that I wanted to get an extra hour of sleep and made arrangements to pick up my pack at eight o’clock.  I checked into my motel room, took a shower and set the timer for 4 hours.  Needles to say I slept very well!

Leg four, Florida to California

My timer went off and I was up, dressed, and headed down to Mike’s room.  Along the way I stopped and looked at the standings that had been posted.  I had done it!  I was in first place! I scanned down the list of riders, noting the positions of Rick and Gary and that of Fran Crane.  Those were the riders I was most concerned with. When I picked up my bonus pack a little after eight o’clock, I scanned the first pages while still in Mike’s room.  I noted that White Plaines, New York, was a huge bonus. I said something about it and Bob asked if I thought it was possible to go to White Plaines and still make it to Ojai on time.  I said I didn’t know, that I’d have to calculate the miles.  Bob had a computer in front of him and he quickly calculated a route.  He came up with a figure of about 4,000 miles.  I said, “That’s a piece of cake”.  He looked at me, shook his head and said “You’re f&*%$#g nuts!”  I agreed that I probably was, and headed back to my room to plan my route.

When I entered White Plains, Rugby, North Dakota and Lebanon, Kansas, the three biggest bonuses, into my pre-programmed route, the computer told me it would be a trip of 4,937 miles. This would require an average speed of 56 mph.  I had been averaging better than that the entire rally, so I decided to go for the big points.  As I was riding through the parking lot I saw Eddie James.  He was barefoot, drinking a coke and talking to the ever-present entourage he attracts.  I told myself , “He’s taken himself out of the competition”.  I gassed up and entered the freeway at exactly 9 o’clock Tuesday evening.

After stopping for an hour-long nap in North Carolina, I approached the metropolis of the Washington DC/Baltimore area about 6:30 in the morning.  I was worried about getting caught in rush hour traffic, but I had little choice.  As I got closer to DC the traffic did indeed get heavier, but it didn’t pose any problems for me as it was moving along at 65 mph.

Jeff Fisher, another Iron Butt entrant, approached me at a gas station in New Jersey and asked if I knew where I was going.  I told him no, but that I was following a route suggested by AutoMap and letting the GPS guide me.  We left the station together and wound our way around numerous off and on ramps, finally we were heading north.  An hour or so later we crossed into New York and found the combination BMW car/bike dealership that was the bonus.

We went inside and received the answer to the bonus question.  One of the salesmen at the shop asked if he could take a picture of us.  We went outside and he asked Jeff to move his bike to a position that would allow the dealership sign to be seen in the background.  Jeff was getting a little anxious at the delay.  I told him to try to relax, we had plenty of time, but I don’t think it helped much. When the salesman told us the battery was dead in his camera, Jeff’s irritation grew.  The salesman went inside, then came out with another camera.  Neither Jeff nor I thought the guys from the dealership had a clue about what we were trying to accomplish.

I asked Jeff where he was going from White Plains.  He said “back to the barn”.  I suggested he at least go to Oklahoma City.  It was, I told him, worth over 2,000 points and was pretty much on the way.  Jeff followed me for about 100 miles, then waved and pulled off at a rest area.

I stopped in Pennsylvania and had dinner.  I took the laptop into the restaurant and re-calculated my route to Ojai.  I felt I was in really good shape, points wise.  I had seen Rick Morrison in White Plains, and Jeff said he had passed Fran early in the morning.  I knew both of them, and probably a lot of other contestants, had done White Plains.  I was fairly certain that few would also try for Rugby and Lebanon.  However, even if Rick and Fran did, I had a substantial lead on them in Florida, so I should still be in good shape.

DAY NINE

 Tuesday, September 7th

I continued west, passing the metropolitan areas of Cleveland and then skirting around the south side of Chicago in the early morning hours on Wednesday.

About 11 o’clock Wednesday morning, as I was nearing Eau Claire, Wisconsin, my bike began to give me problems.  It would drop in power, then pick up again, feeling a little like a clogged fuel filter, so I checked that first.  Sure enough, the filter was very difficult to blow through.  I changed the filter and added some injector cleaner that I bought at an auto parts store.  I called a number on  “help list” that we were given at the start, (a list of people around the country that volunteered to help Iron Butt riders).  I found out where the nearest dealer was (in Minneapolis) and called them.  I explained the problem and they agreed to take me right in when I got there. 

Within about 30 miles the problem cleared up and the bike began to run strongly.  I figured the injection cleaner had done its job and gave a big sigh of relief.  I encountered heavy traffic in Minneapolis and decided not to get off the freeway to go to the dealership.

About 50 miles past Minneapolis the problem came back.  This time it was worse, never clearing itself. I stopped in Waite Park and found an auto parts store.  The bike would idle very smoothly, something it would not do when it had problems in ’97.  I knew that this was a different situation and one, I hoped, that was not as serious.  In the parking lot of the parts store I took off my gloves and felt the header pipes.  All but the #4 pipe were too hot to touch.  I pulled that spark plug and it was severely fouled.  I was lucky, the parts store had a plug that cross-referenced to mine.  I bought two, put one in the engine and one in my tool pouch.  I started and revved the bike and it seemed fine.  Another sigh of relief and I was on my way.  All in all I lost about 2 hours total on this problem.

 As I rode north a strong cross wind picked up.  As dusk approached the temperature began to fall.  By the time I reached the monument in Rugby I was getting cold and was also getting depressed.  The delay due to the bike problem made me believe that I would not be able to make it to Lebanon.  I went into a restaurant near the monument and did some calculations, concluding I should skip Lebanon.  I was sure I could make it to Ojai in time but, being kind of down-in-the-dumps and a little unsure of myself, I called my wife at home and asked her to run the numbers as well.  “Sure you can make it,” she said, “now get back on the bike and get going”.

DAY TEN

Wednesday, September 8th

That night, Wednesday, September 8th, was the only bad time in the entire rally for me.  I stopped in Bismarck and got an hour of sleep in a bank parking lot.  Later, in Montana, I was getting tired again.  I stopped and found a safe place to lie down, but awoke after 15 minutes, shivering.  It was just too cold to sleep.  I got back on the bike, plugged in the electric jacket, and rode some more.  I wound up doing this three times.  Each time I tried to sleep I would wake up cold.  In retrospect, I should have checked into a motel, taken a shower and gotten a couple of hours of good, comfortable sleep.  I would have been time ahead.

The sun came up as I was coming into Billings, Montana.  I headed south on intestates 90 and 25 rather than go around Yellowstone.  I feared heavy traffic near Yellowstone and knew that  I-15 was closed through Salt Lake City.  It added a couple of hundred miles to my route, but I knew I had plenty of time.

I stopped in Casper, Wyoming, and took a long lunch break.  When I got back on the bike, it was running like crap again.  I stopped before leaving town and changed the fuel filter, spark plug and added some more fuel injection cleaner.  It didn’t seem to help much, but I was still moving.

As I passed through Salt Lake City later that evening I saw Fran Crane pulled off in the median, a car behind her with a light flashing in the window.  I figured she was getting a ticket.  Later I met Fran while getting gas in Beaver.  It was the last time that I would ever see her.

At a gas stop in Scipio, Utah, I decided to get something to eat and took my bonus pack into the restaurant with me.  I looked through it to see if Kneebone might have thrown in some bonuses that I could pick up during the last few hundred miles.  Sure enough, there were several.  Although many of the bonuses were daylight-only, some could be obtained at night.

I stopped at Buffalo Bill’s in Primm, where I had stayed a couple of weeks earlier, and went in to get a gaming token.  I went to the cashier and asked to buy a $5.00 chip. She told me I could only get those at the tables.  I walked the short distance to a 21 table and dropped a  $10.00 bill on the table and received two $5.00 chips.  I put one in the pocket of my Aerostitch for the bonus and put the other on the table.  I don’t remember what my hand was, but the dealer busted.  I left the two $5.00 chips on the table and won the next hand as well!  I decide to quit while I was ahead, dropped the chips in my pocket and left.

Day Eleven

 Thursday, September 9th

I stopped in Baker, CA, and took a picture of the World’s Largest Thermometer.  This was my last bonus and I headed for Ojai.  It was about two in the morning on the last day, Friday, the 10^th of September.

I figured I needed to be in Barstow by 4 a.m. in order to make it to Ojai on time.  I pulled off the freeway about ten miles before Barstow and parked in the parking lot of a gift shop to take a nap. It was here that I made the biggest mistake of my rally, one that could have easily cost me the whole thing. I laid my cover down on the sidewalk and set my timer for 60 minutes.  Just before I went to sleep, I moved the timer closer to me.  What seemed like just a few minutes later, a semi truck pulled up on the other side of the sidewalk and parked.  The sound of his air brakes being set woke me up.  I was really pissed!  I looked at my timer to see how much time was left.  It said 59 minutes.  I was sure I had been asleep more than one minute, then I realized that the colon wasn’t blinking, the timer wasn't running!  I began to panic.  I had no idea how much time had passed.  Apparently, I had touched the stop button when I moved the timer closer to me. I jumped up and looked at the clock on the bike; it was 3:50.  I had slept almost an hour longer than I had planned.  I considered leaving my cover on the ground, not wanting to take the time to pack it.  Then I began to calm down and think more clearly; it only takes 30 seconds to pack the cover (I had practiced and timed this before leaving home).  I could spare that amount of time to save an $80 cover.

Back on I-15 I was passed by a Mercedes going very fast, surely making a quick getaway from Vegas!  I dropped in behind, holding about 1/3 mile back.  I was in Barstow a few minutes after four, barely behind schedule.

THE FINISH!!

Friday, September 10th

Upon arriving back at Widder’s I was greeted by many friends.  It was almost seven in the morning and I had made it with an hour to spare.  One friend, Jan Cutler, asked how the bike was running.  Most of the people at the finish had heard that I had been down to three cylinders in Wisconsin, but no one knew I had changed the spark plug and was back up to four.  We looked the bike over and saw that there was a lot of black soot on the left saddlebag and muffler.  The engine had obviously been running rich.  As it turned out, the oxygen censor in the exhaust system had failed, possibly due to a bad tank of gas, and that caused the fuel injection computer to go into “limp home” mode, a very rich situation.  It did its job, allowing me to finish the rally.

In the parking lot I told Jan that Fran should be coming in soon, that I had seen her in Utah the night before.  He told me that Fran had been in an accident and was in a hospital in Salt Lake City.  I couldn’t believe what he was telling me

I went into the shop at Widder’s and found Mike and Bob and told them about seeing Fran the evening before.  I then got my paperwork together and was checked in by the rally crew.  Because the bike had been running so rich, I had to stop for gas sixteen times on the last leg and it took a while to get all of my receipts in order.  Organizing the bonuses, however, was easy; I only had five of them.

When I went in to see Mike and Bob, the first thing they did was enter my rider number and odometer reading into their computers.  “Oh my God” Higdon said.  "What” I asked.  “You rode almost 5,000 miles” Mike replied.  “Yeah, it felt kind of far” was my answer.

After getting checked in I hung around Widder’s for a little while, then went to my motel and checked in.  I took a shower and a nap, waking up fours later.  I walked to the country club where the banquet was to be held and had a beer with some friends.  Eventually, we all went into the banquet room.  I was sitting next to Rick Morrison when Mike came into the room and walked over to me and said, “Too bad, you should have gone to Kansas”.  I didn’t know what to think.  I knew Rick had a shot at the win and that it would be close.  However, I didn’t expect Mike to “let the cat out of the bag” so to speak.

The names of the finishers were read off, starting with “dead last but finished” and working up to first place.  When Mike got to second place, he called Rick Morrison.  Rick and I congratulated each other and shook hands.  It was close; only 314 points separated us, but it was enough.  I had accomplished my goal; I had won the 1999 Iron Butt Rally!

Epilog

On the way home from Ojai a couple of days later I wasn’t excited and happy, as I would have expected.  In fact, I was depressed.  I tried to figure out why and could only conclude that I no longer had a purpose.  I was just going home.  Although I missed my family, there were no more bonuses to get; no checkpoints to make.  For two years I had a gnawing desire for something.  Now that I had achieved it, I felt lost.  It took a few weeks of being in my “natural” environment to feel normal.

When I got home on Monday following the rally I heard the news that Fran Crane had died in the hospital in Salt Lake City.  What hurt the most was that she had not passed away as a result of her injuries, but from a mistakenly administered medication.  This added to my feeling of loss and depression.  I doubt that I will ever get over that feeling.