Anyone who knows anything about motorbike trips writes that the first rule is if you can do 500 miles per day at the start of a trip, the road takes it toll and you can do half that on the last day of a trip.
Not one to stand for conventional wisdom, I set out to prove them correct, by doing my longest riding day as the final day of my trip.
From the time I waved goodbye to my friends at the truck stop in MN until i got home was something like 25 or 26 hour, so if those last couple of hours don’t count as a single day of riding, maybe I did do a short ride.
The rain hammered down for most of my ride to Chicago, and two interactions I had in that town did an incredible job of raising my spirits.
The first was a tollbooth, there was a massive line, so I got to the front, took off my gloves and lobster covers paid and was rushing to get out of the way of the next car. The operator took me under her arm, said she would not raise the gate until I had everything zipped up and buttoned down and was ready. If people behind had a problem, they could take it up with her, as I would not be able to leave until she opened the gate.
The next was a gas station, my waterproofs etc were soaked through at this point, and an older African American gentleman rolled up in a some ancient land yacht. Got out of the car, looked at my slammed his leg laughing “MAN YOU TOOK THE WRONG CAR TODAY”. He then proceeded into the station continuing to laugh heartily.
As I shivered intermittently for the next 12 hours of riding, I would remember both of those interactions and either feel happy, or laugh myself. It got me through.
If I am going to be kind to myself I would say I made a few “tactical blunders” on this final day, one was being pig headed and deciding to double my miles on the last day. The next was not allowing for it being Memorial Weekend, so Indiana, Ohio and Pennsylvania had troopers out in force looking for speeders. In Western states with speed limits of 80MPH or more I was able to go with the “flow of traffic” and really chew up some asphalt.
When planning for this last day I didn’t factor in the lower speed limits, and that we would all be obeying them.
By the time I was on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I had plenty of red-bulls in me, but as it got into the overnight hours and the fog/mist descended my judgement again made some bad choices, At each rest area / gas station, I would honk down two of the big redbulls and get to moving.
In the fog I realized that while I could not see the road, that meant that speed radar could also not see me, and even when I could not see the lane markers due to fog, if I rode over the cats eyes I could sort of tell by braille if I was on the correct part of the road.
I woke up a few more times, but the worse was when I woke up overtaking a semi in a corner. That put some fear into me, but again I was crashing out not too long afterwards.
As the sun came up it was easier to stay awake and by the time I crossed into Maryland I could smell home. I caught myself a couple of times blowing past all regular traffic realzing I had not dialed it down from Western highway speed, but got home safe and sound to me bed.
