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Discussion in 'The Perfect Line and Other Riding Myths' started by Rollin', Nov 15, 2016.
Today’s mail call
Thats a gorgeous piece of paper!
I just read the italicized section and will be returning the certificate to the IBA
I blame 2020
Opppppppsss. However congrats to Teri as well
LOL, that is funny right there!!!! I don’t care who ya are.
Access to Canada is not going to happen until Covid is under control.
We know.....it sucks
Goes both ways but I'd rather be here than there!
Great ride man!!
I was gonna ask you who Teri was. Fun story, while converting my rides to the new database, they asked "does everything look right". I browsed and saw that two TOH IBA rides had the EXACT same mileage. Figuring he probably screwed up the data entry I went and got the cert... That WAS what was on the cert, so I went to my GPS to see the difference in mileage, and my application to see I had requested/claimed the correct mileage, but missed it when the cert came. Got it cleared up in the new database, see it was always correct in the old records, so now just need to request a "good" certificate.
On a similar note, this year I got my TOH completion certificates. Last year they sent out a request to "check your stats to make sure they are accurate". This year they didn't, and even though once upon a time I disputed a visit to Georgia that I did not try to claim, they never resolved it, so my certificate shows Georgia erroneously. I noticed it early on, so I am sure they were swamped with submissions. It was probably someone with my flag number from last year submitting with the old email header calling out my flag, or not updating their flag number in the app.
Anyway, that less critical ToH certificate wasn't worth the hassle, I just crudely amended it myself with some sharpie. Fixed enough!
My very first certificate was thru the auspices of the MTF. The route was circular (Tucson, Flag, Abq, Hatch, Tucson) and one that has been done multiple times.
The route was described in reverse (Tucson, Abq, Flag...) on the cert. After a decade, no need to change it...
Derrrrrrr, I don’t know why I didn’t make that connection.
I'm not at all surprised.
Spelling mistakes are one thing. Wrong person to wrong document...well that's upping the anti too.
But these guys cant even send a certificate to Australia let alone the correct state or city or the town let alone the street and the individual.
It has come to pass that just in the last few weeks Australian certificates for rides from years back to even a month or so ago get sent back to New Zealand ...WHY ? complete with the typos before being printed and sent to the hapless rider in Australia.
The IBA certification system is fucked.
I'm very glad I love the longer rides without being hitched to the IBA.
Ill even go so far as to say what's stated in the italicized section is very very wrong in its stated massage regards the first.
I stopped sending documents off a few years ago. They have had 7 rides worth of my cash for a good few years now.
Why bother with the paper trail and the risk if these guys cant just get the job done.
Nice sale on the Garmin Zumo 396. $229.95
Garmin zumo 396 LMT-S (gpscity.com)
I note the grumping from down under on this very topic over on the IBA's forum.
Just thinking that your (valid) complaint might be better handled there. I wish you success in resolving the issue.
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Just completed my first and probably last iron butt adventure 11/21/2020.
My wife has been looking for a T7 Yamaha for the last three or four months. Basically if you aren't one of the 500 to pre-order this year you're out of luck until they start taking orders again in January; or you are fortunate enough to find a dealer with one where the buyer backed out. We missed several recently in surrounding states because they move pretty quickly. Anyway she was on a FB T7 group and a couple of weeks ago and said, here's one at a dealership. I said, let them know that you want it. She said it's in Denver, and I said, we'll figure it out. She messaged the manager and he said send us a deposit and within about an hour the deal was done.
We're in SC so I looked at my options which included shipping the bike, driving my pickup there and back, flying to Denver and renting a van and driving back, and doing a fly and ride. We ride a good bit but riding the slabs is my least favorite motorcycling; however the personal challenge of doing an iron butt has always intrigued me. I've done a number of long endurance drives over my lifetime but 500 miles in a day was my maximum on a motorcycle.
So last Wednesday I took a direct flight to Denver ($200) and from there took a cab to a hotel ($100) which was convieniently next door to the dealership. Thursday morning I walk over to the dealership with my gear and dry bag where I spot the bike waiting for me. After about an hour and a half of completing the paperwork, installing a ram mount for my phone, and doing a checkout and familiarization of the bike, I was off to Colorado Springs to spend the night with my nephew. There was 1 mile on the odometer when I fired it up. The guys at Gran Prix Motorsports in Littleton CO were awesome to deal with. Rob True and Scott Newlin made it happen and everything was professional and met my expectations, which rarely happens.
The approximate seventy mile ride to CS gave me an opportunity to make some initial observations about the bike; it's far too tall for me, I have a 29" inseam and I'm on my toes straddling the bike. Of course we knew this beforehand as we had sat on a T7 months earlier at a dealer, and we will be installing a lower seat and links. The seat is extremely uncomfortable after about an hour in the saddle, and the last bitch is that the windshield creates such turbulence around my helmet that I could hardly hear myself think. These are all things are being addressed and they were only of concern for my immediate journey. The bike is fantastic; very torquey, strong at all speeds, very predictable handling, good lighting, easily readable dash, power outlet, etc.
I spend Thursday night with my nephew and his wife and still havent decided on a route for my trip back. The shortest and quickest is I 70 east to St Louis, work down to I40 and then I40 to Asheville and I26. But a cold front was moving into CO Friday morning and will last at least a couple of more days. Central US was looking at warmer than average weather but I'll be trying to avoid cold nightime temps so I decide to head south on I25 and pick up I40 east near Amarillo. It makes the trip longer but the low for Amarillo is forecast to be around 60. Thursday evening my nephew and I work on my helmet which is falling apart and we install a mount on the bike for my Garmin.
The next morning I wake up to 31 degrees with a high in the mid 40's. I wait a few hours for the sun to warm things up and decide to pull out around 10:30. Its 33 when I leave CS. The dash clock shows 2:00 and I cant figure how to reset it so I decide to use it as is. The clock is something like 3 1/2 hrs fast but it will keep track of my elapsed time disregarding time zones which will remove any confusion in that regard. The ride south is nice and fast if a bit cool but the sun is in my face and I cant see the dash or gps. It hovers around 50 but drops to 46-48 at the higher elevations. I get off 25 at Raton onto 87 heading SE towards Amarillo. I've been running 85-90 and the fuel mileage is in the low 40's at those speeds. It reads 53 mpg and above at 55-60 but I wont be running those speeds much. The result of this is that I feel the need to stop for gas at about 110 miles or so. I buy a package of beef jerky and drink a bottle of water. The gas tank is 4.1 gallon but the fuel gauge leaves me with range anxiety. Had I taken the time to read the manual I would have understood how the gage works and probably have been able to get comfortable with 140-150 miles between fill ups, as a light flashes when you get to one bar and you can switch the odometer to count down miles to empty with a little more than a gallon remaining. As I was on an unfamiliar bike with night falling and not knowing when the next opportunity for gas would fall, I decided to stop when only two of the six fuel columns remained, six indicating a full tank. A typical fill up was 2.5 - 3 gallons. As a note, a friend just bought a new 850 GS which has a slightly smaller tank (4.0 gallons) and gets about the same mileage.
I stopped to take a video of windmills against the sunset but neglected to get the bike in the shot, which would end up being one of the regrets I will have to live with. At any rate I bomb down 87 across the plains and over the pass and past the windmill farms until the gps tells me to turn south for Amarillo. I decide instead to turn east since thats the direction I'm ultimately looking to go. The highway is two lane but not much traffic and I can let it out. I stop for gas again and buy some chicken tenders at a Sonic. The restaurants in all of the towns of NM are takeout only because of Covid. At some small town i realize that I have less than an hour of daylight and I turn south for I40 where gas should be more predictable. I pick up 40 well east of Amarillo and now its I40 at least to Memphis. As darkness falls car traffic begins to disappear but the truck traffic is very heavy. I'm feeling pretty good as the temps are around 60 and the glare from the sun is gone and other than my ass, I'm pretty comfortable and alert. Somewhere in OK I stop for gas and text my family members that I'm ok in OK. I havent told anyone that I was planning to ride straight through and most of them assumed that I was stopping for the night. I knew that they would try to talk me out of it and it would make them worry. If you dont understand, you can't understand. I had traveled about 650 miles at that point.
By now I was really getting the bit in my teeth. The length of the trip was no longer a concern and I was fully into the zone. Oklahoma City - 2xx miles - hey I can do that, 3 hours at 85, meh. By now I came to welcome the frequent fuel stops because my ass was so soar after the first 50 miles following each fuel stop that I couldn't stand it. Otoh, because of my short legs, getting on and off increasingly became a challenge. I became very careful to avoid stopping on sloping surfaces. As the night goes on it becomes harder and harder to mount and dismount. I can no longer sling my leg over the dry bag. The best method was to pull to the right side of the pump, lean right enough to lower the kickstand, and then slide off the seat to the left using the pump to hold me up as I drag my right leg across the seat. As the ride wore on my dismounts became more pathetic.
As the night progresses I realize that by happenstance I've picked a good night and time to be traveling. There were numerous (probably ten or so) road construction projects along my route but all of them were inactive as it was Friday night. In every case the barricades narrow the traffic to one lane for miles but the traffic is light, there is no construction activity, or cops and we roll along at 60 or so. I can't help but think how bad the traffic would be during daylight hours. After gassing up in Oklahoma City I programmed in Atlanta as my next waypoint and the Garmin showed my next turn was in Little Rock. Somewhere along I40 and about 15 hours into my ride I passed 1,000 miles for the day; nine hours later at the 24 hour mark I was at 1,630 +\- so easily exceeding 1,500/24hrs. As I neared Little Rock there was heavy fog, so heavy that it was condensing on my gear and helmet and streaming down like rain. After 20 miles or so it began to let up. It would turn out to be the only moisture that I had to deal with the entire trip.
At the beginning of the trip I was saving gas receipts until I realized that some were illegible, some lacked date and time stamps, some required me to see the cashier, and in some there was no paper in the printer. I bought fuel from where ever I could find it. Little country stores in small towns in OK and Texas, big interstate truck stops, stations that were closed but had operational pumps, and even a station in a shady area of Memphis where I felt real nervous.
Memphis was a good example of my range anxiety. Coming into the Memphis metro area from the west I assumed I would pass big fuel plazas at every intersection so even with my gage down to two bars I elected not to stop at the first big highway exit with fuel signs. As it turned out there were no more obvious opportunities until I had gone across the Mississippi and all the way through Memphis. It was pretty lonely out there and I didnt cherish the thought of walking along the interstate. I got off at the first exit with any sign of life. There were two run down pumps in front of a dilapidated bar with bars on the windows. I put my card in the pump and the gas just dribbled out; after 2 minutes and a half gallon of gas I decided to move on, hoping that I hadnt just pumped sludge into my tank. 5 or so miles down the road I found a real station and tanked up.
My next waypoint was Nashville although I would have probably done better heading off the interstates towards Birmingham and Atlanta but I probably had my gps preferences set for shortest or fastest route which directed me to Nashville. The temps had dropped into the 40's and the heated grips that the dealer installed before I picked up the bike were a godsend. Somewhere west of Nashville I stopped for fuel and a piss stop. It was just about daybreak and 44 degrees and I was done with the cold. I checked my phone and there was a text from my wife at 6:15 am that was '??????'. Idk why she was texting me at 6:15 when she thought I was in OK where it was 4:15, but nevertheless I texted back and said, doing fine. She said, where are you? I said, Nashville. She said, you're doing an Ironbutt aren't you? I said, yes. She said, get some sleep. And I said, gotta go. She said, man on a mission? And I said, yep.
A guy walked up and had seen me pulling into the station and knew about the T7 but had never seen one in person. Cool guy who was into dirt bike racing and owned a two smoke Yammie 250 and a XL650 Honda. The bike got lots of attention and plenty of compliments during my frequent fuel stops. A Triumph rider in Columbia came over to inspect it and said he was trying to decide between the T7 and I think a new 900 Tiger, but after seeing my wife's bike he said, "why would I spend $6k more for the Triumph?"
Back on the highway I turn off 40 heading for Chattanooga and Atlanta. I am just beginning to realize how far I still am from home, and also how bad daytime traffic sucks. I could have continued towards Nashville, Knoxville, and Asheville but I know thats going to be cold ride so I turn south. Back to driving into the sun as the traffic gets heavier and heavier. Thick around Chattanooga and only gets worse heading down 75 to Atlanta. 14 miles from my exit onto 285 traffic comes to a stop. I work my way over and off an exit to a gas station where I remove some layers and eat some jerky and fuel up. I've parked on a slope and cant get enough push on my left foot to transfer the weight to my right so I can raise the kickstand. I get back off the bike and roll it to a more favorable position, mount up and ride back into traffic. It was stop and go for 14 miles until I got on 285 where it was a little faster with less stops for 25 or so more miles to my exit onto 20. I lost more than 1-1 1/2 hrs in Atlanta just due to traffic and I had been putting on a show for those behind me as I slid off and on the seat in the stop and go. Finally got on 20 east and started rolling again. Stopped again for gas. The further I got from the city the lighter and faster the traffic became. 200 miles to Columbia and then 100 more to home., then about midway to Columbia, traffic stops, not stop and go, but dead stop. I move to the side and can see it snaking off in the distance forever. I probably moved 200' in a half hour and I needed to get moving. Worked my way to the right lane and then rode slowly past traffic in the emergency lane until I came to an exit. I had no idea where it led but when I got to the end of the exit ramp I realized that the holdup was under the overpass and the interstate heading east was clear. Back down the on ramp and Im sailing again.
I still had about 100 miles to Columbia and another 100 to Charleston but I was beginning to realize that darkness was going to catch me again. I stopped again for fuel and texted home my location. The run from Columbia down I26 was fast and furious. Traffic was heavy but rocking along. As I neared Charleston the traffic became really thick and fast. It was Saturday evening and the traffic heading into the city was much heavier than the outgoing. It was a 5 lane wide sea of taillights running 80, people swerving across lanes and brake lights everywhere. I had my situational awareness turned to max and tried to maintain a constant and predictable speed and path. About 6 miles from home I glanced at the dash and the odometer read 2020, and about a second later 2020.02. As I pulled into the driveway the clock read 9:02 meaning my elapsed time was almost exactly 31 hours. The odometer read 2026. Since I started from Colorado Springs with the odometer reading 70, the length of the ride was 1,956 in 31 hrs. My wife heard me ride up the drveway and came out to meet me. Idk if she was more excited to see me home safe and sound, or more excited to see her new bike, but her reaction was worth the ride.
I regret that I didnt stop and take more pics and I regret that I wasnt running a tracker program that would have captured my route and stops just for my benefit. I could have easily ridden another 45 miles over the next hour and claimed a 2,000 mile in 32 hours but it wouldn't mean much. I left CS on a Friday and pulled into Charleston on Saturday and thats the story I and my friends and family will remember.
As a note the route that I took was about 300 miles longer than the I70 route would have been, but looking back the temps along 70 were in the mid 40's that night compared to about 60 on I40. 12 hours in the dark at 60 beats 12 hrs at 45.
I'm crossing doing an iron butt off my bucket list. I cant see me trying to beat that ride and I dont care about collecting certificates. I respect the riders to who have that passion but its just not my thing.
One and done.