The Nomad odometer only goes to 99,999.9 miles and mine has rolled over, but when I had to repair my trip meter, I put a #1 decal in front of the other numbers so it would read correctly. Also, my speedometer cable broke once and I put 2,200 miles on my old friend before repairing it, so all of the mileage figures quoted hereinafter are short by 2,200 miles of what are actually on the bike.

My plan was to do the Saddle Sore 1,000 (1,000 miles in 24 hours) on Monday the 20th and add the 500 miles for the Bun Burner 1,500 (1,500 miles in 36 hours) the next day. The weather forecast looked as good as it gets for this time of year. I was to leave at 6:00 am Monday for Glenwood Springs, CO, return home before dark, a distance of about 1,060 miles, get a decent nights sleep at home, take off to Omaha on I-80, go a little North of town on I-29 until the trip meter indicated 250 miles, fuel at the next stop, turn around and get back home before 6:00 pm.

When the alarm went off at 5:30, the snooze button seemed appropriate and eventually I rolled out of bed at about 5:50 am. After performing all my manly morning duties, I woke Kristin to sign the Eyewitness Form, pulled out of the driveway at about 6:35 and fueled at CPI in Axtell, NE which is a few blocks from home. The station didn't open til 7:30 and not a soul was stirring in our little village so I filled my tank alone in silence at the end of our 3 block Main Street 100' from the school building where I attended K-12

#1 receipt, starting point, CPI Axtell, NE 6:37 am Central Odometer 115,634

From 6&34 East and 44 North, I entered Westbound I-80 at Kearney, NE, Exit 272. Immediately I was in a 55 mph construction zone. Not a great way to start. Fortunately, the construction ended 9 miles later at the Odessa exit 263. The speed limit is 75 mph and that's what I did. Speeding on a 99 Nomad is not a good option due to the small 4.2 gallon tank and an average mpg of about 36 which drops dramatically at speeds over 75. Any time you may gain by speeding is more than lost by extra gas stops. Approaching Overton exit 248, sprinkles began stinging my face so I pulled off to put on my wet weather gear. As soon as I got stopped, so did the rain and I decided to proceed unprotected. Just after Lexington exit 237, the skies really cut loose but luckily, there was a rest area right there. I pulled in and put my suit on in a sheltered area. A man there said there were some severe thunderstorms to the West. Oh great!

Heavy showers made the next 10 miles interesting but then it cleared and I enjoyed the rest of the ride to Paxton, NE with great weather.

#2 receipt, The Lodge I-80 Shell Station, Paxton, NE Exit 145

7:51 am Mountain Odometer 115,777

Beautiful conditions prevailed as I veered onto I-76 and crossed over into Colorado. Sterling was the next planned stop but the fuel gauge indicated that I could make Brush so I pressed on.

#3 receipt, I-76 Tomahawk Truck Plaza, Brush, CO Exit 90

9:58 am Mountain Odometer 115,918

My debit card wouldn't activate the pump and the clerk told me to press the "NO" key when it asked "DEBIT YES/NO" Then it worked. Weird! I bought a PayDay candy bar and a liter of water, ate the PayDay and drank half the water and was on my way. The ride through Denver, onto I-70 and up to Idaho Springs went well with blue skies and reasonably light traffic.

#4 receipt, Idaho Springs Shell, 11:56 am Mountain Odometer 116,036

Drank half of my remaining water, took off my riding pants and jacket liner and headed to my turn around point. As I approached the Eisenhower Tunnel/Loveland Pass I got pretty well chilled and was feeling a bit stupid for taking off the warm gear but I toughed it out and heated up quickly riding down the other side. Road construction going into Frisco cost me about 25 minutes. Motoring away from the construction zone, I looked at the East bound traffic back-up and thought it looked quite a bit worse than what I had just experienced. "I hope that's gone by the time I come back through."

The I-70 ride through Glenwood canyon has to be one of the best in all of cycling and a fitting reward just before the apex of my journey. At Glenwood Springs, I fueled up, drank my remaining water and then went to Glenwood Canyon Brewing Co. to buy a shirt. They didn't have the style and size I wanted in a T-shirt so I reluctantly bought a long sleeved garment. While standing at the counter, a friendly local struck a conversation with me and would have made a great eyewitness but I didn't think to ask him. Outside the front door, a pretty good shower was falling, but the sun was shining brightly. One of those mountain things.

note; It's possible that my stop in Glenwood Springs was more than 30 minutes.

#5 receipt, Glenwood Springs Shell Station, 2:13 pm Mountain Odometer 116,162

Shirt receipt, Glenwood Canyon Brewing Co. 2:31 pm Mountain

The rain stopped about a mile East of town and the ride back through Glenwood Canyon was gorgeous as usual. As soon as I passed a rest area, Mother Nature called. The sign had read 76 miles to the next one and I knew I could wait that long. "Hopefully, the latrine will appear before any construction." At the East side of the Vail Pass tunnel, I was relieved to see the rest stop and quickly did my thing and got back on the bike. Then, just a half mile down the mountain, around a curve, there it was. Cars and trucks stacked up as far as one could see. On the curvy road, the front of the jam up was never visible. This might be bad.

Well it was bad, in fact it was the longest construction delay I have ever experienced in my life. And worse, the traffic constantly just inched along at about a walking speed or less so I had to stay on the bike. Who knows how long we were all stuck in that mess but 3 hours and 32 minutes elapsed between the shirt receipt and the next gas stop receipt, which was 129 miles, and when traffic was moving, it was doing 75-80 mph. The incline was usually steep enough that I could leave the motor off and ride the brake, so that was good. At one time, a passenger got out of the car in front of me, walked quite a ways up the hill into the trees, to pee I assume, then walked back down to the car without even hurrying.

About 45 minutes into the crisis, we had crept far enough down into the valley that it started getting pretty hot out and the sun was beating down hard on the back of my black Belstaff jacket. My body was starting to bake and I was getting really thirsty. I wanted to stop and take my jacket liner out but that meant stopping all the traffic behind me so I kept delaying. Another 20 minutes into it though was enough, so I stopped the whole train and removed my liner. Nobody shouted profanities at me or blared their horns so I needn't have worried. Sadly, it turned out that the liner was actually insulating me from the solar heat gain and I started cooking at an even faster rate. Unzipping my coat all the way didn't stop the roast either. I considered taking the thing off completely, but that would have meant sunburn and an unprotected ride in the free-for-all that I assumed would occur as soon as the road opened up. And I would have had to stop the lineup a little longer this time while I figured out what to do with my jacket because my bags were full. "This is not good. My brain is frying and I'm starting to feel a little sick."

By the time we finally did break out of the gridlock, I had a pounding dehydration headache, my neck and back muscles were tightening up and I was way behind schedule. My spirit was badly bruised and the ride was no longer fun. Now I just wanted to be done. To twist the dagger a little more, I saw that just as I hit the opening, they were finishing up for the day and picking up all the cones. I could have dawdled around some beautiful mountain roads for a couple of hours, then come through and not have lost any more time than I had.

It was a traffic free-for-all and irritated motorists were whizzing around me at breakneck speeds. 5 miles down the road, at the next exit, was my first chance to safely pull over and zip my jacket.

By the time I rolled into Idaho Springs, I felt very bad and was so hungry I could have eaten road kill. The PayDay had been my only food all day. There were a couple of Wing riders at the gas station and normally I would have chatted with them a bit but I didn't feel like talking to anybody. There was a Subway a couple of blocks away and I planned on having a nutritious meal there, remembering the passage on the Iron Butt web site about eating light. However, I heard the attendant telling the Wingers about a great BBQ joint just up the street and I, being a major carnivore, chose Smokin' Yards BBQ and ordered the "All You Can Eat Ribs" special for $12.95 with potato salad, beans and water. I was happy to see that they had a cooler of ice water sitting at the condiment bar that was self serve. One big plate of ribs didn't make a dent, so I ravenously devoured two, as well as both sides and six 16 oz cups of water. The combination of the fantastic food, endless supply of water and my incredible appetite/thirst conspired to make that meal one of the most gratifying in recent memory.

note; This stop took about 45 minutes.

#6 receipt, Scorpion Shell, Idaho Springs, CO 6:03 pm Mountain Odometer 116,291

That stop had me feeling much better but still pretty crappy. It was obvious now that I would have to do the final two legs of my trip after dark which was troubling to me. Just recently, I had committed to not riding after dark anymore, because of the deer danger, even though it is my favorite time to ride. The reason; at age 52, I and my wife Kristin were having the best times of our lives caring for our little 8 month old Milena Rose. The first child for both of us. And I definitely want to be around for that.

An inspiring ride down out of the mountains and I was doing better by the minute as my body started to re-hydrate. One good thing, I was late enough to miss Denver's rush hour and even managed to make the switch to I-76 without screwing up and heading North to Brighton/Greely, like I do almost every time I leave town going East. At my fuel stop in Brush, I called Kristin and told her I wouldn't be home until late. She could hear the stressed tone in my voice.

#7 receipt, Acorn Food Store, Brush, CO 8:13 pm Mountain (receipt is 1 hour slow)

Odometer 116,410

Night was falling as I hit the road and I was bucking a heavy head wind. This was one of the longer legs of my trip and I was hoping I would have enough fuel to make Paxton. As my light decreased and the risk of critters increased I slowed to about 58 mph for safety and to help my fuel range as well. With every passing mile, my strength and good attitude built to the point that I was once again experiencing the nirvana of a pleasant ride, patting her tank like the underbelly of my favorite old horse and proclaiming my love aloud with terms of endearment. The increased risk of night riding was inevitable now so I called upon my years of dedication to ever safer riding practices to make sure I would arrive home to my beautiful family safe and sound. Interstate traffic was almost nonexistent the rest of the way home so I felt comfortable enough to relax and enjoy my wonderful machine.

The sky was on fire with lightning straight ahead and I hoped that I could at least make Paxton dry. As the big twin purred through the darkness, the thunderstorms seemed to always stay just ahead of me and the light show was neat. Had I not been delayed, I probably would have gotten soaked, maybe even pounded by hail. Some things are meant to be. Over the state line and into The Good Life of Nebraska, I merged onto I-80 and rolled on.

At Paxton, a fellow in the parking lot told me there was some very severe weather ahead of me and the Indian (not Native American) attendant turned on the weather channel so I could watch the radar map. Skies looked pretty clear ahead of me now. The temperature was dropping quickly though, so I put my riding pants on and was wishing I had another layer on top. Wait, there's the long sleeved shirt from the brew pub. Really, some things are just meant to be. Unfortunately, I didn't have a bandanna as I had not yet really gotten my bike packed up properly since the cam chain repair. Back in The Lodge, I asked the gentleman if he had any for sale. He of course didn't speak English and directed me to the first aid items. They did have a Wrap-Danna display. Sort of hip doo wrags. Not what I wanted. There may well have been bandannas somewhere in the store, but I couldn't communicate with the attendant, who was very polite, what I was looking for so I forgot about it. I'm not prejudiced, but The Lodge used to be owned by a friend and customer of mine who still owns Ole's Big Game Bar downtown. I had heard that he sold The Lodge to foreigners. He probably got a good price. That's progress, I guess.

#8 receipt, The Lodge I-80 Shell Station, Paxton, NE Exit 145

10:39 pm Mountain Odometer 116,551

Out on I-80 again, I felt very good about myself. No need to push anything, enjoy life on my bike. About 10 miles in, I encountered a deer standing calmly by the shoulder of the road, not bothered at all by me or anyone else rushing by. Bright lights on a bike are a must and mine are very good, my own setup, they illuminate the ditches on both sides, so I probably see animals that most riders don't. No nighttime defense exists, however, against a kamikaze deer charging in from the side. The thunderstorms all dissipated. 9 miles of interstate from Odessa to Kearney were 2-way, 2-lane because of the construction, and a little scary.

Off of I-80 for the final time and across the Platte, deer central, River I had hoped for a relaxing 15 mile finale to my adventure. But a thick blanket of fog descended upon me for the rest of the ride. Maybe the riskiest segment of the whole trip. 30 mph was the fastest I dared to go in the blinding mist.

Axtell's street lights suddenly appeared right in front of me and I pulled into the CPI station. After swiping my card and entering my PIN, the display on the pump kind of blinked out for a second and then read "Please Wait". It usually takes about 5 seconds, but now it doesn't seem to be working. There will be no attendant here til 7:30. Much too late to do me any good. In the silence, I nervously stood alone, my fate in the hands of technology.

60 seconds pass.

No way, this can't be happening! IBA would probably have approved me anyway without the final receipt since I had documented the rest of the trip well, but I didn't know for sure. The start and end documents are critical. I could drive 7 miles over to Funk in this fog and try there, but that's a CPI too. Maybe their whole system is down.

Another 30 seconds go by.

Damn, I might have to go 17 miles back to Kearney! In the fog!! Come on baby.......

Beeeeeep, finally the pump turned on and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Some things just take time.

The ride home from there was a five block tour of triumph. Even if I had missed something in the documentation of the trip and was not approved, I knew I had finally done it. Riding a motorcycle 1,000 miles in 24 hours is kind of a bizarre goal really, and when I walked into the house, it was very nice to see that Kristin had gotten me one of those foil balloons, a little cake and a card congratulating me on my accomplishment. I would not have dreamed that she knew how important this was to me. It's a bit of a mystery to me why it should be so important. She woke up, signed the Eyewitness form and congratulated me in person.

I went directly to bed and didn't set the alarm, opting to let destiny decide whether or not I would attempt the Bun Burner 1500 level the next day. At about 9:00 am, I awoke feeling pretty good and thought "I could make it." but about that time I heard Milena jabbering in the other room and decided the Bun Burner 1500 wasn't all that important. Another day, another ride perhaps. I pulled the covers over my head and slipped back into a nice, deep sleep.

Receipt #9, CPI Axtell, NE July 21, 2:38 am Central Odometer 116,694