BBG, Part Two: Into the Night

Part Two:  Into the Night

New things on this trip for me included my iPhone mounted on a Ram Bone, a metal cylinder with a RAM ball on the end which mounts to the frame of the motorcycle using the two bolts that attach the gas tank to the frame:

and a pair of LDComfort undergarments (no photo necessary or appreciated).  I was curious to see how they would work out.

I didn’t have a separate GPS unit, and I didn’t do point to point routing as I was using the Waze app for navigation and road intelligence.  That’s right, no radar detector either.  I knew roughly how far apart the population centers were, and figured I would just lock the next one into the Waze app to give me an idea of how I was getting along.

I slowly and quietly slipped out of my neighborhood, winding my way to the gas stop where I had lined up a pair of witnesses.  I fueled up, and encountered the first bump in the road.  Looking over the receipt, I realized that the timestamp was wrong:

The printed timestamp said 22:03, when in reality, it was 22:53.  I had no idea if I could even do this ride, and I certainly didn't want to squander an hour just because the timestamp was wrong.  I went in and spoke to the Tanya, the clerk.  I explained what I was up to, and she willingly initialed and signed the receipt, including the phone number of the station.  Minor bump in the road overcome, and feeling like I had wasted a few precious moments, I went back to the bike, ensured all my vents were closed, and idled out of the lot.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but I also made my second mistake - I didn’t mark a fuel stop on SWConnect.  I chalk that up to having downloaded the app on Wednesday and not really playing with it very much before the quest.

Working my way onto I-80 westbound, I fired up my fork-mounted LEDs, set my throttle lock, and got into a steady pace.  The weather was perfect, the air temperature reading 64.  A mile or two into the trip, I see Bambi materialize and freeze by the side of the road.  Already amped up for the adventure, Bambi’s presence gave me an extra shot of adrenaline and served as a reminder to be hyper-vigilant.

I travel back and forth to Chicago with some frequency, so this was home turf.  I was comfortable, and I was settling into the feeling of operating such a fine machine.

The strangest thing to get used to was the carcasses of blown semi tires lining the shoulder.  They would appear as shadows in the tractor beam of my lights before disappearing into the darkness behind me.  Slightly disconcerting at first, I quickly got used to it.

I love riding at night.  There is just something about being out there in the dark, auxiliary lights burning a tunnel into the night, the inky blackness all around you.  I find it strangely peaceful.

The trip to I-65 passed quickly, and soon I was heading southeast towards Indianapolis.  I’m not sure where I was along the I-65 corridor when I happened upon the strangest, most eerie thing I have ever seen.  After climbing a long, gradual ascent, I crested to be met by what seemed like hundreds of red lights, pulsing in the distance, filling the horizon from east to west.  It spooked me a bit.  One light near the center would flash first, then all the others would answer.

Was it something creepy from Bladerunner?  Had Skynet arrived?  No, it was just a wind turbine farm.  As I got closer and closer, I could see a slice of turbine blade in every pulse.  It was a strange effect, like a stop-motion animation.  It was curiously unnerving, and I was glad to put them behind me.

The rest of the trip towards I-65 was uneventful.  I was in the zone, in a slight tuck, torso on the tank, putting miles in the mirror.  My tractor beam lights drew the tractor trailers towards me, and I made sure to give them a respectfully wide berth both when swinging out to pass and before pulling back in.  Once, entering a construction zone, a truck had to merge into my lane.  Instead of zooming past and cutting him off, I respectfully rolled off and flashed my lights.  He merged and flashed his running lights in appreciation.  That’s how I roll - thank goodness for all the truckers out there helping put food on our shelves, items in our stores, and enabling us to enjoy a quality of life far superior to that enjoyed by the kings of old.

Ready to recycle some of the water I’d been sipping and needing fuel, I pulled in just northwest of Indianapolis.  It was a brisk stop as I went through my routine:

1. Gloves off, placed on pillion.
2. Helmet off, placed on saddle.
3. Earplugs out, placed on gloves.
4. Gas up, get receipt, write mileage with pen from right thigh pocket, put finished receipt into left thigh pocket, reset trip odometer.
5. Open trunk, retrieve Builder Bar (20g protein each!), start devouring it while I walk in and offload fluid.
6. Return to bike, clean bugs off face shield with mini spray bottle filled with water and a microfiber cloth.
7. Re-lubricate ear plugs, slip them in.
8. Helmet on, gloves on.
9. Ignition, departure.

Since SWConnect was new on this trip, I made my second error - I did not send a Gas Stop message.  I would not forget to do that again, but it was not to be my last error.