Chris' Ultimate Coast to Coast Ride

Chapter 4

Day One

            My ride officially started at 6:15 AM EST on Thursday, July 31, 2003.  We headed down to the Southernmost Point Marker.  Nancy took my picture in front of the marker with the bike.  I dug out my glass vial to take my water sample.  As one of the Sunshine State’s domicile challenged individuals looked on in bewilderment, I carefully reached down and tried to fill the vial.  Unfortunately, the tide was low.  I had to get down on my hands and knees and stretch out as far as I could to fill the vial.  Water sample, starting receipt and witness forms in hand, I said goodbye to Nancy and headed north.

            As I worked my way through the Keys, I soon began to realize that I had gotten off to a very good start.  There was very little traffic and whenever I did hit traffic, it seemed to be just as a passing zone came up.  I cleared the Keys and hit the Florida Turnpike in just under three hours.  One small hurdle overcome.  With only one road in and out of the Keys, even a small accident could have led to a huge delay.

            As I traveled north on the Turnpike, I marveled at the number of police cars.  The V-1 radar detector was rarely silent for a very long time.  When compared to I-95, just a few miles to the east, there was very little traffic on the Turnpike.  That probably has something to do with the fact that you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a police car or a toll booth.  By the time I exited the Turnpike at I-75, I was nearly $20 poorer.  It would be the most expensive toll road I would ride the entire trip.

            I continued north on I-75, passing through Ocala, Gainesville and up toward Georgia.  By the time I hit Georgia, it was approaching 3:00 PM, just a little over 8 hours into the ride.  Though I never thought of Florida a particularly ‘long’ state, I was glad to done with it.  After nearly 600 miles of riding in hot, sticky weather, I was happy to be out of Florida.  Even though there was no real difference, I just felt cooler being out of Florida. 

            As I rode further north through Georgia, I realized that I would be hitting Atlanta at an evening rush hour.  I was a little over an hour ahead of schedule, so I had some time to spare.  When riding in rallies, I often like to think of time as a form of money.  The more ahead of schedule you were, the more you had in the bank to draw on when needed.  When things get tough, you withdraw some of that saved time from the bank to get back on schedule.  I had been hoping to build up a nice little nest egg of time to draw on later in the ride, when I would surely need it.  Besides the pending crush of rush hour traffic, I noticed something else.  Dark, ominous clouds began piling up to the west.  This is never a good sign on a hot, summer afternoon.

            Traffic stopped briefly just south of Atlanta.  A horrific accident had occurred on southbound I-75.  As I passed the accident in the north bound lanes, a medical evacuation helicopter was landing in the southbound lanes.  Traffic southbound was backed up for miles.  Having seen quite a few accidents over the years, this one appeared to be very bad one.  Paramedics were performing CPR on one person, while another appeared to be still trapped in one of the vehicles.  The accident was a clear and sober reminder to pay attention to what I was doing.  And another small hurdle cleared.  The accident delayed me for only about 10 minutes as opposed to the interminable delay facing drivers going the other way.

            I headed around Atlanta.  Just west of the city, traffic came to a familiar crawl.  No accident traffic here, just too many people trying to get out of town.  I sat in traffic looking up at the ever darkening skies.  Suddenly, the skies opened.  If there is anything worse than riding in the rain, it has to be sitting in the rain, barely moving.

As any experienced rider will tell you, put your rain gear on BEFORE it starts raining.  As I sat there with my rain gear tucked safely away in my luggage, I wished I had run into that experienced rider to tell me to put my rain gear on.   As so often happens, I had gone one exit too far and now sat trapped in traffic in a thunderstorm getting drenched.  Eventually, I made it to the next exit and found the shelter of a gas station to change clothes.  As I sat there dumping the  water out of my boots and wringing out my socks, a couple pulled in next to me.

As her husband pumped their gas, the wife came over to me and told me that they had seen me on the highway in the storm and had been worried sick that I was going to tip over in the rain.  She told me that the radio was broadcasting severe weather alerts for the entire region.  She asked how far I was going.  I assured her that I was only going to be on the road for a little while longer and that I would be very careful.  She and her husband wished me luck as they drove off into the storm.

After emptying my boots and wringing my socks, I slipped my Gore-Tex pants on under my riding pants and put my Gore-Tex liner in my jacket.  I switched to my neoprene gloves which I use for rain.  I also switched to my clear visor, as I thought the chances of running into any sunshine at this point to be somewhat remote.  I hopped back onto the GS and rode off into the gloom.

Riding in the rain has never really bothered me, and as with anyone who rides regularly, I have ridden through some true gully-washers over the years.  In fact, Nancy and I have quite a reputation for attracting foul weather whenever we head cross-country.  We both took the MSF courses in the rain at separate times.  I even pulled off the daily double by taking the Experienced Rider Course in the rain.  Rain happens.  A few years ago, while working at an open house Morton’s BMW, Nancy was talking to a new rider.  The weather was somewhat iffy that day and the fellow was a little concerned about riding in the rain.  He told Nancy that he had never ridden in the rain and asked her if she had ever ridden in the rain.  She calmly answered, “Oh, yes, almost exclusively.”  To this day I can clearly recall the befuddled look on his face.

I headed north toward the hills of Tennessee and Kentucky, as the rain pounded me.  The skies had long since darkened.  Like I said, I don’t mind rain.  Lightning, on the other hand, scares the hell out of me.  For the next couple of hours, I hit cell after cell of severe thunderstorms.  As I passed through each storm, I would keep my head and shoulders as close to the bike as possible.  I reasoned this would make the lightning pass right over me.  Visibility dropped to nothing.  I resorted to riding with my flashers on, pressing on at speeds under 30 mph at times.  This was horrible.  

Several years ago there was a long, interesting thread on the LD Riders List dealing with lightning.  Could lightning hit a bike or was a bike insulated like a car?  I don’t really know the answer.  I suspect a lightening strike would cause severe damage to rider and bike, but deep in my heart, I secretly prayed the posts that claimed the bike and rider were insulated were the correct ones.  I hope to never find out which answer is correct. 

When riding through weather like this, it often occurs to me that no one in their right mind would do this.  I was not even through the first day and I was miserable.  Water was seeping in, slowly but insipidly seeping, making its way wherever there was the slightest opening.  My visor consistently fogged over.  Water ran down the inside of the visor whenever I cracked the visor to clear it.  More thunder rolled and lightening danced across the sky.  I rode on into the night. 

As I rode north of Nashville, the storms subsided.  I was beginning to dry out.  For some reason, I began thinking, “Oh, that wasn’t so bad.”  This of course was absolutely nuts, because as I said before, it had been horrible.  I crossed into Kentucky and checked my progress.  As incredible as it seemed, I had put some more time in the bank.  I was now more than two hours ahead of schedule.  I kept going over the figures in my head, thinking I had to have made a mistake somewhere.  But it kept coming up the same.  Despite the traffic and weather, I had increased the “lead” I had over my schedule. 

I had intended to stop in Paducah, Kentucky for the night.  I quickly changed that plan and decided to keep riding past my 2:00 AM deadline.  I pulled into a Best Inn in Marion Illinois around 2:00 AM CST (3:00 AM EST) on the morning of the August 1^st.  I had covered a little over 1300 miles.  Though I had lost some time over the last few hours of the ride, I was still around an hour ahead of schedule. 

I checked in and got a first floor room with an exterior entrance.  I quickly unloaded the bike and settled into the room.  I undressed, leaving the clothes in a line across the floor.  In three hours, I would re-dress in the same clothes, picking them back up off the floor in reverse order.  I set the Screaming Meanie (countdown timer) for three hours and immediately dozed off.

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