El Matador's and Desmolu's most excellent adventure. Writeup Finished!

[Bun-bun]

 
C'mon folks, the writeup's taking longer than the ride.

[swampduc]

C'mon folks, the writeup's taking longer than the ride.

They may be off on a new adventure before they finish writing up the last one.

[Bun-bun]

They may be off on a new adventure before they finish writing up the last one.

It didrain buckets here a few days ago . . .

[Porsche Monkey]

 

[El Matador]

As is to be expected, the hardest part of the journey is also the most difficult to write about; that's why it's taken so long, we've been putting it off.

When we left off, we were still 750 miles from Dallas, and I was in somewhat of a migraine induced comatose state. The next morning, we woke up to a frightening thought. We had 750 miles to cover and a day to do it. We were mentally exhausted even before we started. We put on our earplugs and took off. I usually like to listen to Led or Muse when I'm riding, but I needed something that would take me on a long haul, so I decided that some classical was in order. A Beethoven's 5th pandora station later, we were on the move.

The route we took basically said one thing, take I 40 until you reach little rock, then turn left. That's exactly what we did. That was the only turn the entire time. It was make the beast with two backsing terrible.

We had a quick stop in Memphis to eat, we had some pretty good BBQ and kept on going, from now on it would be no stops until Forth Worth and Slag's place. I40 is the single road that I hate the most on this planet it goes on FOREVER, and there is not a single turn in the entire thing.

Mile after mile after mile after mile afer mile afder mioler aftrmile afmile asfmeirlsmafouashfiun.

That was the process of my brain's basic functions shutting off in order to be able to endure it. Everything became a thing of repetition: Stop, lift gas cap, put in gas, close gas cap, thumb starter, turn right wrist, get on highway, go 150 miles, repeat. It really was that simple. Have you ever had insomnia? I usually don't sleep. When I get to about the 3rd day without sleeping everything turn a little surreal. Chuck Palahniuk explains it best in his book: Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy. That is exactly the way this felt. It was scary to think of how much my brain was turned off.

At some point we entered Arkansas, but I'm not really sure when or where it was. There was a point where Lucrece was getting really tired behind me, at a gas station I offered to zip tie her to me so she could sleep. It was getting to the point where really stupid ideas start to sound good.

Somewhere in Arkansas I pull over for some gas. Right behind me a pulls in a cop with his lights on. He immediately gets out and comes over.

Cop: Son, did you not see me with the lights behind you?

El Matador: Uh... No....

C: License  and Insurance.

EM(As I hand over my license): We just got this thing and the insurance as well, but we don't have a hard copy of the insurance papers. I can get an electronic one on my Iphone if you wish.

C(As he walks to his car): Go ahead and do that.

1  minute later the Police officer comes up with a very concerned look on his face: Son, where did you get that license plate?

(I need to make a quick intervention here. Do you guys remember how Lucrece never got the plates from the mechanic? Well, we never got around to shipping them to NYC either. When getting ready to leave He-man's place, I jokingly asked if he had any others. He came out with three of 'em and told me to pick one and don't ask questions. Better than riding without a plate I thought at the time.... )

EM: Eeeerm, it came with the bike?

C: I'm gonna need to see the bill of sale.

Em: Baby?

Desmolu: OH SHIT! It must have stayed with the luggage that we shipped to slag.

C: What about that insurance?

DL: Im sorry, but I'm trying to pull up the document and it's not working 

C: So let me get this straight, you guys are riding a bike with no bill of sale, no proof of insurance, and a fake plate? What do you expect me to do?

EM: Eeerm (Visions of butt-pounding federal prisons in my head.)

C: do you know where the VIN is?

(I show him and he goes to his cruiser to check it out)

EM: make the beast with two backsshitshitgoddamnmake the beast with two backsingmothermake the beast with two backseryaaaaaargh

Officer come back from cruiser with a steel-eyed gaze, looks me straight in the eyes and says: Ok the VIN checks out, I'm not gonna write you for the speeding, but I will have to write you for the no proof of insurance. Since you say you have it and I don't doubt you do, all you have to do is mail it here and we'll take it off. Oh, and I'll have to confiscate that plate of yours. Consider it a gift. You'd be in jail if it was any other officer. Have a good night and ride safe.

EM: Huh?..... thanks....good night...

Damn that was a close one.


Pumped full of adrenaline, we ride the five or so remaining hours to Dallas pretty wired. Slag receives us at around 2 AM, with a big smile and says we're insane. I have never seen a more welcoming sight. I get off the bike but remain bowlegged. We have been riding for 17 hours. 

Of course, I was too tired to sleep that night. 

[roy-nexus-6]

Mile after mile after mile after mile afer mile afder mioler aftrmile afmile asfmeirlsmafouashfiun.

Repeat after me - I am the zen master, I am the zen master, I am the zen master. 

Doing this will keep you from going insane for approximately 11 minutes. How you occupy yourself for the other 737miles is up to you. 

Great write up, by the way... and the pics in 'action pics' are awesome!

[DesmoLu]

you left out the part about the pads 

[Porsche Monkey]

So yall rode the rest of the way without a plate?   Pads?

[DesmoLu]

So yall rode the rest of the way without a plate?   Pads?

I have to let Matador tell that part.

[El Matador]

So yall rode the rest of the way without a plate?   Pads?

Only to dallas.

Pads... Yeah about that. I have these things called balls. At around the 12 hour mark, they started to hurt. Bad. Every bump in the road felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my "cash and prizes". At a gas station, I tell Desmolu about my situation. She quickly comes up with a great idea.

Five minutes later, I was riding down the road with my "cash and prizes" being sweetly nuzzled with love by two heavy-flow maxipads. Yup. I admit it. It works like a charm.

[kingbaby]

I know there are some guys out there laughing, and then going Huuuuumm, makes sense. 
I wear Castelli bike shorts on every long ride, or the track.  I figure if I can ride 500mls a week on a bicycle in those damn goofy looking things,  they can't not work on the moto.

[swampduc]

Wait, you do 500 miles a week on a bicycle? When do you have time to do anything else?

[DesmoLu]

Wait, you do 500 miles a week on a bicycle? When do you have time to do anything else?

he's just THAT fast 

[somegirl]

I wear Castelli bike shorts on every long ride, or the track.  I figure if I can ride 500mls a week on a bicycle in those damn goofy looking things,  they can't not work on the moto.

[kingbaby]

Wait, you do 500 miles a week on a bicycle? When do you have time to do anything else?

You have to do it in a hurry.  

Managing a dealership took up a bit of the day.

I think the average was more like 310/wk (average a year) 500 during the season.  
It's still miserable regardless.