Posted by Polar Pilot on January 28, 2002 at 17:38:33:
In Reply to: INTRUDN's challenge posted by ken on January 26, 2002 at 18:23:14:
IT was back in the summer of '99. I had accepted an invitation to dinner in a community some distance from where I was staying - a dinner invitation I wanted to keep! Folks had invited me and I was anxious to not disappoint a special one
When time came to haul out the maps - wow - I had 250 miles to ride, eat supper and ride home another 250 miles.
I headed out - my '89 Savage and I were still getting used to each other - I had learned that she sipped a little bit of oil at highway speeds but it was nothing serious. I had a liter of oil in the tool roll on the handle bars.
The first hour rolled past, the second and the third. A couple of gas stops watching the distance and thinking about the ride home that night. A burger for supper and a general loafing around - letting the engine tick and snap cooling from running steadily at 65 mph. Cool enough to let me open the oil filler and add a pint to replace that which had burned or blown away. Issue for major consideration rapidly was becoming what would be open for gasoline across the prairies and what sort of range would I be getting to insure that I didn't wind up sitting through the night beside the road out of gasoline?
The fourth hour saw me arrive at my destination and the social event began.
4:30, 5:30, 6:30 - supper is cooking - 7:30, 8:30, 9:30 - at last the social niceties are taken care of and it was time to swing onto the saddle for the 4 hour trip home.
On the prairies in the summer our daylight and twilight stretches until about 1000 pm.
The first hour rolled past and saw me loosing the last lingering glimmer of daylight. Time for the fuel stop - the next stop was about 135 miles north. This distance I knew would test the Savage's gasoline reserves at normal highway speeds so I decided to slow down and increase the gas mileage that way.
Rolling gingerly out of the brightly lite area around the gas station headed north into the blackness of a moonless night. The motor purring with the bike cruising around the double nickle (55 mph). I relaxed rolled my shoulders and tried not to be totally blinded by the glare of the headlight on the deserted highway. 30 minutes - not a single car was seen but the stars are blazing in the sky and Polaris is overhead guiding me on- 60 minutes and I see the street lights of a silent prairie village - street lights only - all the residents are long in the land of nod. 90 minutes and I start seeing lightening -= ahead and to my left. I wonder how the Savage handles on a wet slippery highway at night and how bad a prairie storm I will endure. 140 minutes and I roll into the critical and welcoming light of my planned gas stop. I strike up a conversation with some folks coming in by car from the direction of the storm and they describe 4 inches of hail on the highway and cars off the road. They had stopped for the worst of the storm but as it passed they had crawled slowly eastward until they were clear of the hail and wind.
Lucky for me the storm was still to the north west.
Changing highways - the last 75 minutes flew past. Rolling along - holding 55 passing a car every 20 odd minutes - I felt totally alone.
At times as the clock moved towards 3:00 am I drifted into a zen like state. My bike was not moving rather the earth was rotating faster and faster and rolling towards my destination.
At 03:15 rolled into the yard and straggled into bed. I had at plane to meet in 4 hours - grab some shut eye -
The next morning I walked past Ole Yellar - and thought about the rugged reliability I had learned about through that night ride.
Quite a beast our Savages - and this one was one I had learned to trust as the hours and miles had flowed past on that trip for dinner.
Keep the rubber side down
Polar Pilot