I got up, took a shower and started to go over my checklist one last time. The bike sat out in the garage all prep having been done before I'd gone to bed. All that waited was for me to get geared up and have my wife sign the starting witness form. 3:20 AM, I wake up my poor wife and have her sign the form, then it's off to get my first gas receipt. I didn't like the fact that I had to drive out of my way to get the first receipt but I knew the 7 Eleven on Gude Drive would be open and that their receipts had all the required information.

3:41 AM and I have my first receipt from the Derwood, MD 7 Eleven. There is barely anyone out at this hour and all the traffic lights are still in their evening hours mode of flashing yellow. This allows me to make much better time than I'd originally expected and I'm on 270 heading towards the DC beltway in no time. The beltway is normally the last place I'd drive my motorcycle, heck I don't like driving on it in my car, but at this hour it's a quick 20 minutes before I'm on 66 heading West. I can't settle into a good rhythm quite yet as this stretch of road is notoriously patrolled by Virginia's Finest, no I'll have to wait till I hit 81 before I can start really loping along.

I had been planning a trip down to the Smoky Mountains with my friend John for almost a year. John lives in Atlanta and we'd planned on meeting up in Gatlinburg, TN where I'd found a cabin for us to rent. The idea being that we'd have a week to ride every road in the area that we'd ever read about. Fortunately and unfortunately John took a new posting back in DC and was going to be getting ready to move at the same time as our planned trip. On to plan B, what ever that was going to be. I'd just gotten back into motorcycling for the first time in over 25 years. I purchased a 2006 VTX1800N new out of the crate in August of 2008 and I'd only just broken 7000 miles. This was going to be my first extended trip with “Big Red”. Everything about biking was still relatively new to me, even though I'd been reading enough to feel that I understood it all. I'd outfitted the cruiser into as much of a touring bike as I could afford. Engine guard with highway pegs, an Ultimate Big Boy seat to replace the torture device the bike had originally come with, a Memphis Shields windshield with lowers, and for luggage a used set of US Saddlebags, a small tank bag and an x-large Bikers Friend roll bag riding where the passenger seat would have been. I wouldn't be camping so that made packing tight but manageable.

But now with John not coming along on the trip what was I going to do?

And this is really when the trip took a huge change. See at the same time that I'd been planning this trip to the Smokies I'd also started reading about the Iron Butt Association. This is a group that certifies what's termed “long distance rides”, rides that most sane people would consider more than a bit crazy. The minimum ride – to gain entrance into this little club is called a Saddlesore 1000. This ride entails traveling over 1000 miles in under 24 hours. In order to have the ride certified you have to collect gas station receipts showing the location of each stop and the receipt must also have a date/time stamp. For the past few months I'd been reading trip reports (web articles) written by riders who had accomplished (or failed) this feat of questionable sanity. Well the more that I'd read of these “adventures” the more I wanted to try one. With John not able to go I had free reign of my trip and started re-planning everything. Playing around on Google Maps one day I questioned how far it was to New Orleans, where my wife and I had some friends who'd recently been stationed there. Hmm, 1097 miles. Well, that number certainly got my brain percolating. 1097 miles was far enough to know that I wasn't going to come up short on the mileage, and having friends at my destination point made it seem all the more worthwhile.

While going to see my friends made the destination a good one there just seemed to be lacking any real meaning behind the ride other than to say “I'd done it!” I got to thinking about the Ride for Kids and the Pediatric Brain Tumor Foundation. Every fall Ride for Kids puts on a charity ride to raise financial support for the PBTF. The Maryland Xiles, the group that I ride with, decided after last years event that this was a noble charity and something that as a group we would help support. I started thinking that I would ask everyone I know to make a pledge of just a penny a mile for every mile I rode. The idea took off much better than I'd ever imagined and I was able to far surpass the modest goal that I'd set for myself.

Over the next few weeks while trying to raise money I also posted a number of questions on the IBA forum asking for hints on how to get ready for the trip. The basic reply was to go out and try to do some rides of some distance. This spurred me to try a 500 mile ride which I was able to do without any problem. Fueled by this attempt I finalized the route I'd be taking and picked exit points at which to refuel based on the limited mileage that I got with my bike.

I'd made it on to 81 South and was heading to my first fuel stop in Harrisonburg, VA. The Exxon was just off the highway and was on my side of the road. A quick fuel up while sitting on the bike and I was off. The only other thing I did was too suck down one of the two bottles of water that I'd put into my tank bag. One of the tips that I'd read on the IBA site was to make sure stay hydrated, so I was trying to make sure to drink at least 8 ounces at every fuel stop. In minutes I was back on the highway and back up to speed. Traffic was still sparse at this hour and I was traveling just a little above the posted speed limit, certainly nothing that was going to gain me any attention. The sky was just starting to lighten up but all I could make out were dark ominous clouds along the West side of the Appalachian Mountains. I kept hoping the weather men were right and that things would start to clear up as I traveled further South.

My second stop was in Daleville, VA. I'd only gone an additional 100 miles but sucking down that full bottle of water at the last stop was requiring that I stop now or suffer the consequences. Overall things weren't going bad at all. My first 250 miles were out of the way and I was feeling good. I had put on my First Gear over pants at the start of the ride because it was just a tad cool outside. I'd been afraid that I'd be shucking them pretty early on and given their bulk would have a hard time stashing them. As it turned out they remained quite comfortable for the better part of the day and I was glad for the additional warmth that they were providing.

At my next stop in Abingdon, VA I noticed that the receipts date/time stamp was an hour off. Apparently it wasn't programmed for daylight savings time. I went inside to grab a water, use their facilities (again) and hopefully get a receipt with the correct time on it. It was a no-go, the receipt from inside was also an hour off. Explaining that I was on a certified ride and needed the correct time stamp I asked if the manager had a business card. My explanation and request were taken much better than I'd hoped. Not only was I given a business card with her name, phone number, and email address but she even stapled it to the receipt so I wouldn't lose it. Thanks Wendy!

Hmm, all this drinking water is not allowing me to get very far. I hadn't gotten but an hour down the road and needed to make a quick stop in Bulls Gap, TN. Whew!

I wasn't half way into my ride and suddenly the lack of a solid nights sleep caught up with me. The guys that do the long distance riding for real, as in 1000 mile days, one after another, all suggest staying away from caffeine. I guess that's all fine if you've purged yourself before starting on a trip but I hadn't. I hadn't had any caffeinated products yet but I needed something or the next two hours were going to get ugly. I'd recently read someone making a comment about these 5 Hour energy drinks that I'm always seeing at the local 7 Eleven's up by the cash registers, and while I'd always thought of them as a bunch of hooey here was a guy saying what a great boost they are. A number of others had also chimed in agreeing with the original poster. What the heck, I needed something and these were supposed to be better than the quick up and down high than caffeine and sugar would give me. All I can say is I'm now a believer. The next two hours found me cranking up the tunes on my iPhone and be-bopping along having a grand old time.

Just over half way and it's only 12:43. I fuel up right off of 75 and then go inside Bimbo's (no I'm not kidding) which is the convenience store/cafe that's running the Citgo pumps out front. I'm getting a bit hungry but don't want a big meal so I settle for the $1.99 hot dog special. ¼ pound hot dog with all the fixings, fries and a drink for under 2 dollars – not bad. As I'm sitting inside eating my lunch I notice another biker come in. I'm pretty sure I recognize him as someone I passed a while back. I go outside to grab a smoke and start talking to the guy that I saw inside. He's riding a nice Harley and says he's heading down to Telico Plains for the weekend. He asks about the sign I have on the back of my roll bag that says I'm doing a Saddlesore and then comments that his hips won't let him ride more that a few hundred miles in a day. We wish each other a safe ride as he pulls out. I'll wind up passing him again a half hour later.

I've never been in Alabama before and I find myself enjoying 59. I've got a good groove going and I'm just riding the ride. Of course that's about the time that the traffic in front of me starts throwing on their brakes. OK, we're on a pretty straight stretch of road near Eutaw, AL and as far as I know there are no exits anywhere near us. I haven't seen any road construction signs so I'm really wondering what could possibly be slowing us down when I see what no biker wants to see, a half dozen motorcycles parked along the North bound side of the road. As we go by I can see some paramedics working on one of their com padre. No idea what could have happened but given they were all riding sport bikes my mind certainly jumped to the notion that someone was doing something they probably shouldn't have. In any event all I can do is lift up a prayer and keep heading South.

The next 2 stops go by just like the others and then I find myself at this odd little gas station in Cuba, AL. Here for the first time, I get a receipt that has no data other than the amount of fuel and total price. No address, no time stamp, nothing. I head inside to get a receipt and find that I'm at a bit of a language barrier with the young gentleman behind the counter. Or maybe it was the fact that he was trying to have two different conversations on the phone and was basically ignoring me. After I courteously and then forcefully explained for the third time that I needed a receipt with all the information, he finally printed out a new pump receipt. I go back outside getting ready to jump on the bike and notice that the dark clouds that I'd seen up ahead just minutes ago are now overhead. Dang, time to get out the gear. OK, this is the first time that I'm going to suit up with all my rain gear and I have to admit that I must have looked like a complete idiot hopping around trying to get everything on. There is obviously an order in which things must go on but I must have tried every conceivable permutation before I got everything all together. An Air Force chaplain that had pulled in while I was doing my dance, asked which direction I was heading. Telling him I was headed South he just looked at me and shook his head. We chatted while I finished gearing up and I asked him to pray for me before I pulled back out on the road. With the foreboding weather up ahead I needed all the prayers I could get.

Thankfully the weather had more bark than bite and after 45 minutes of steady rain it started to taper off and then ended. By the time I got to my next fuel stop I was actually dry again and getting a bit warm under all the gear. I pulled off for my last stop before New Orleans at the Kar Pit Stop outside of Lumberton, MS. At first I wasn't sure if the exit even had a gas station as the one on the right side of the road looked like it had burned down. Looking across the street at a convenience store I noticed that it had a single gas pump and thankfully it was open. The owner informed me that I was in luck because in another 15 minutes he'd have been closed. You know your in a rural area when the only convenience store around closes at 7:00 PM. After fueling up I grabbed a soda and then sat back on a near by picnic table. Only 88 more miles to go. An hour and a half and I'd be in New Orleans. My left elbow was a bit sore but other than that I was feeling good. I put away some of the rain gear and finished my soda.

Back on the bike I found myself thinking that I was now in the home stretch. Seeing that I was now on Central time I realized that I was going to get in much earlier than I'd ever planned. I had been hoping to get in around 10:30 CST and it now looked like it would be more around 8:30. Of course 33 miles outside of the city the sky once more started turning black. This time it looked far worst than what I'd driven thru just hours earlier. I pulled over at a rest stop and got everything back on again. It was starting to rain as I got the gear on and by the time I pulled onto the highway it was raining pretty steadily. This time I had to not only deal with the rain but with the sun having now set. Interstate 10 heading into New Orleans was under massive reconstruction with jersey walls and winding 45 mph S turn lane shifts. The lightning ripping from cloud to cloud reminded me of the summer storms my wife and I watch when we're down at the Outer Banks in July. Being in the safety of a house and watching one of these storms is one thing, being on the back of a motorcycle... Thankfully no one was in a hurry and even with the nasty weather I didn't feel overly stressed as I made my way across the low water bridges.

I'd wanted to go to a local police station and have an officer sign my completion witness form, but with the weather I opted to just get to the safety of the hotel I was going to stay at for the night.. I actually drove past the hotel and then went around the block to top off the tank and get the last gas receipt.

8:42 PM CST, 18 hours 1minute and 1117 miles after I'd started out, I was officially at the end of my little adventure.

Back at the hotel I explained what I was doing to the young guy working behind the counter and he was more than happy to sign the completion form. Now I just have to turn in all my paper work and wait to hear back from the IBA.