Basketball at Midnight

Neither rain, nor hail, nor night, nor sunlight.

I will ride on.

And I did. 2 days to Maine, I arrived here at Scott's place near midnight last night.

I have no cell coverage, so I haven't called anyone.  Sorry if you're worried.  Check in right here on most major journeys.  Here's what happened:

I spent too long at "social engagements," as Deepani called them when I told her why I was too busy to get anything done, over Monday and Tuesday, and so I didn't finish building my windshield lowers or pack or clean or anything else to get to Cincinnati on Wednesday.  The original plan was to leave by 2 and ride out to Becky's place.  When I called her at 5 because I had just finished the lowers and about to start packing, it came out that she thought I was coming next week and I didn't have a place to stay anyway. 

 So I decided to try to make it to Maine in two days. 

 I left Thursday morning at 5:15 am.  At mile 23 or something like that, I turned around because I was getting too much wind on my helmet.  I rode back to St Louis, and switched out my 17" winshield for my 19", and hit the road at 6:15 am for the final time.  Just short of Effingham, IL, I took breakfast and decided to try out my brain bucket for the first time.  It was great.  It cut down the wind-wobble, increased my peripheral vision, and allowed me to see the rearviews with a glance when looking up-road (the chinbar of the full face helmet gets in the way).

I caught up to the storm first around Indianapolis, the west side beltway to be specific, and proceded to run through a downpour and hail by the time I got to the opposite side.  Knowing the storm was headed East, I knew I couldn't wait it out without loosing the ground I had already hit, so I continued my way through.  At first rain, however, I stopped to put on my rain gear, double-glove, and full face helmet (better for rain). 

 The rest of the day was battling through the storm, stopping for lunch once I got through, battling back through the back edge because it caught up for me during lunch, taking a nap in eastern Ohio, battling back through the edge of the storm, flying through the hills of western Pennsylvania, and becoming grandly defeated when I found out I wouldn't get to Kevin's place outside Philly until about 1am.  I decided to cut it short and did an old check I learned from my dad.  As I was at a rest stop, I got the Pennsylvania hotel guide, looked up the adds for Carlisle, and picked the cheapest place on route 11 (on the way to I-81).  I called them, booked it, and finished my last hour and a half of driving. 

 822 miles, and very roughly about 15 1/2 hours of driving (the rest were breaks).  About 776 net from my home.  Nearly an Iron Butt (1000, you get a certificate).  It got me thinking.

While I slept, the storm came through, and I woke up to bright sun and wet pavement, had my continental donut, and hit the road about 7am (eastern).  As I crossed the Delaware River into New Jersey, the first drops of the tail end of the storm hit me.  How's that for a homecoming?  I crossed across, through New York, and into Connecticut.  Where I waited in traffic.  It has convinced me that New England drivers have no idea how to drive.  Four lanes, no accidents, construction, police, and  they're going 10 mph.  Ridiculous.  In heavy rain.   Through Indiani and Ohio, at least I was moving fast enough that my luggaged didn't get wet.  Now, I was just sitting in it.  Eventually, the storm spun past me, and I travelled in sun for a while.

After talking with a guy at the tourist stop, I crossed over to a nearby parallel parkway, where we would hit spits of 60 mph for 5 minutes and then be stopped or going about 10 mph for another 5.  Again, no cops, police, construction, or obstacle.  There is no reason for this behavior.  Once on 91 and 84, we were okay until the Mass Pike (around 4:30).  I hit a couple sprinkles in upper Connecticut, but I was still safe from the storm.

Overturned propane truck.  Mass Pike closed East of Worchester.  Between I-84 and exit 10 was 10 miles of crawling traffic.  I stopped at the rest stop a mile from 84, found out about the accident, and that they estimated about 1-2 hours to clear it.  I figured the traffic was not going 10 mph, and so if I got on now, I'd be at the next exit right about the time I could continue on.  Or maybe I'd camp out.  Or maybe I'd just shoot the bull with the cops preventing me from going on the freeway.  Or maybe I'd sit in traffic for the rest of my life and take I-290 up to I-190, which is probably clear, but would add another 10 miles of jammed traffic.

In all cases, at 6:33 by another guy's time, the pike opened back up, and I had moved from mile 479 to 487, within two miles of the final exit.  The storm had caught up to me again about a mile back, and the rain was coming down.  I figured I must be close to the edge, and took off.  The storm and I raced neck and neck, mostly in light drizzle around much of 495 to 95.  I hit a few heavy patches of rain, and caught up to a few clearings along the path.  Up 95, into New Hampshire, it had a headstart at the toll before the 12 mile stretch of NH roadway.  Then we were at it, fighting for the title.  Along the coastline, both heading Northeast. 

 Over the bridge and into Maine.

And I was the one to cross first.  From about a mile before to the bridge and beyond, there was no rain.   I had beaten my storm from Indianpolis to Maine.  When I stopped for dinner, a few sprinkles had caught up, but it was nothing much.  By Porstmouth, the storm was retreating into New Hampshire, where it waits for me…. for tomorrow. 

All the reports say I will see her again on my way to Vermont. 

Day 2, 650 miles, 7am to 12:00am, roughly 16 hours of driving.  175 miles less than the day before, and half an hour longer.

That's 1472 miles over two days.  That might not quite be an Iron Butt, but maybe I'm at least brass, eh?