Dancin’Dave’s
Mileageslaves
Shoalmire ride would be my
fourth Saddle Sore for the
year. But for some of the 160
running around today, this
would be their first really long
day.
They were lucky. For most of
the country the weather was
perfect. But for many of these
newbies the real challenge
ahead was not the miles but
old fashioned boredom. The
ride can at some point in time
drive you nuts if you’re
continuously looking at the
odometer to where you start
the inevitable mileage
countdown—one thousand
bottles of mileage on the wall
and now thank God the
odometer shows just 999. The
boredom and the countdown
will especially work their
magic if you get
uncomfortable on your bike.
Even today, that thought
takes me back in mental time
to my early days on BMWs,
when for me a 1000-mile day
was anything but “routine.”
Picture an Airhead, ’76
vintage. It’s dark; I’m going
uphill on the Pennsylva-nia
Turnpike. I’m a man on a
mission to get home whatever
it takes and however late I get
there, as I have to be at work
the next morning. I’m on my
first long day forced march—
north Chicago suburbs back
home to Baltimore.
There is a saying: If you don’t
mind it don’t matter. But I was
sure enough “minding” that
night as I dealt with killer
discomfort. Maybe that was a
good thing, as for sure there
was no danger that I’d get
bored and fall asleep. I was
counting down mileage and
very aware of how many more
miles I had to go, wondering if
I could stand it. Some freakin’
trigger spasm or knot or
whatever in my upper back
had me wanting to scream.
So I did, and it got better.
That early episode got me
started on how to fix my
riding, in this case figure out
and stop whatever it was that
triggered that spasm. Over
the years I learned to fix lots
of other things making for
discomfort. But if those other
guys on the Shoalmire ride
are counting down the miles
while just now finding out
what they have to figure out,
then they’re not happy.
But there is another challenge
--2--
here. All you are doing is sitting
there and stopping on occasion
for gas or to pee. It is no great
accomplishment, especially if all
you are doing is setting cruise
control and rolling to get it done.
The problem is simple: You must
do the ride and stay within the
confines of the state. See the
problem? It’s not as if you’re
going anywhere. In my
case, the “nowhere” I’m riding
boils down to Interstates I’ve
known for years. I’m going to be
forced to see again lots of stuff
I’ve seen a million times. How to
make this more interesting?
Well now…maybe there are local
folks who have never done a
Saddle Sore who might want to
give it a try, so at least I’d be
shepherding and tormenting a
group of newbies and that might
be fun. We could do it the Raider
Way and have a good pre-flight
dinner and end the ride with
another one.
In desperation I sent out emails
to clubs and riders I knew in
Indiana. My mind was saying
this. Help. I may die of boredom.
Share the misery. But instead I
said: This is a special IBA-
certified ride with a special
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