Bike: Inspected…all good.....he’s ready to go…
Rider: Inspected, all good, she thinks..or maybe…not....
Thursday rolls around and I’m really having a tough time with the concept. It’s just so far away! I call my friends and talk to them; they are encouraging but at the same time, I don’t think they have a real good idea of the doubt that is plaguing me.
I start packing—that’s an activity that gives me tangible proof that the IB is right around the corner. Sigh. What to pack? Lots of warm weather gear, rain gear, gloves, snack foods, tools, cash, etc., etc., etc. I decide I’m going to pack my full faced helmet along with my shorty.
Friday morning rolls around. I have the pressure of getting my papers done; it is a distraction from the niggling worries that plague my subconscious. I finish my assignments, am mostly packed…so I decide to have a bit of a distraction and head out to see my friends at the PPHOG meeting.
Of course, when I walk in, I see my friends—and one girlfriend that knows of my upcoming trip starts worrying me about not getting enough sleep. Yeah, I *know* I have to be on the road at 3:00 am—it’s 6:00 in the freaking evening. If I went to bed, I wouldn’t be sleeping so why go to bed??
I have a fun with my friends and some of them worry me about the fatigue factor. Yes, I am aware of it…but at this point, I knew I was committed to going. Not only did I know that I was fully capable of doing this ride, I couldn’t let my friend Karla down.
I had a few errands to run to finish up my packing—got them completed and managed to get to bed at 10:30 pm. I normally don’t sleep with an alarm clock—even when I worked a “normal” job—I always manage to know what time to get up. This time I set the alarm. It was quite useless since I managed to wake up every hour with the fear that I overslept!
So much for the alarm clock, eh??
At 1:30, I had enough of the nonsense so I hauled myself out of bed and piddled around. At 2:30, dressed in my red leathers, I rolled my Fatboy out of the garage and began my trip.
I get a half block and decided that my red leather jacket was not going to be warm enough and turned around and got my black leathers. I would appreciate it some 800 miles later.
I pull up to the start point—the Shell station at Academy and Woodmen. Sandy is already there; we are poking fun at each other at the insanity of this endeavor—of course at 3:00 AM we have to have a sense of something—so it might as well be humor, right?
Karla and Dad B pull in, with Mom B following behind in the pickup truck. She looks at me and says “you guys are insane”.
Yeah, I agree, and grin back at her. I’m psyched now…and ready to roll.
The start point is the first fuel stop and I have to note my mileage and get a gas receipt to mark the ‘official’ start time. LOL…for once in my life I was actually ahead of the game and had a full tank of gas. I managed to squeeze a whole .87 in my tank!
Oh well, I had the official receipt denoting the official time and location…the Saddle Soar 1000 had begun…
Darn, it’s dark…..
Keep the Shiny Side Up!
~The Rainbow Wahine