Iron Butt SaddleSore 1000 to the Last Blockbuster (June 3-June 5, 2019): Part 1 - The Ride

I've missed doing Iron Butt Association (IBA) rides, so it was fitting to come out of my hiatus and complete one after a long two years of graduate school and weird life changes. The last time I had done one was back in 2011 when I rode from Columbus, OH to Elko, NV on a SaddleSore 2000. In reality, it was more of consolation from a failed attempt at a BunBurner 1500 Gold. Due to tornado warnings with about 300 miles to go, it wasn't worth the risk to ride through the night and finish the route. Perhaps I'll attempt the BBG 1500 again when I have the chance.

About a year before this ride began, I had started talking to my riding friend, Edwin (IG: zeros_adventure), about the possibility of completing a SaddleSore 1000. He didn't want to attempt it by himself and I didn't blame him; these rides are daunting. Doing so would be the first every IBA certified ride for him and the first one that I would do with another rider. Until now, all of my completed IBA rides were done solo. In addition, this would be the first time that I would be beginning the IBA ride in California; my previous rides had begun in Ohio.

When we reached a point in time that we could put solid plans down, we thought of fun places to ride to as the final destination of the SaddleSore 1000. I came up with the idea of riding to the last Blockbuster Video store on the planet in Bend, Oregon. This Blockbuster Video gained a bit of notoriety when it became the last location standing in March 2018 following the closure of locations in Alaska and Australia. Also, the cameo of a Blockbuster Video in "Captain Marvel" brought memories of the store back to the forefront. When I casually punched in the address for the store on Google Maps, it turned out that a straight shot on Interstate 5 was only 820 miles from Los Angeles. To make up the last 180 miles, I tweaked the route to swing out eastbound on I-80 and US-95 which would cause us to enter Oregon through Nevada and then cut across the state to get to Bend.

The route we ended up settling on. Planning done on inRoute for iOS.

With planning all set with a final meeting the Friday before, we geared up the bikes and left at midnight on June 3 from Redondo Beach. His ride of choice was a 2005 Suzuki VStrom 650 and I was on Eleanor, my 2007 Yamaha FJR1300, the same bike that I had used to complete all of my certified IBA certified rides to date. This time around, my FJR was starting this ride with approximately 205,000 miles on the odometer.

We rode I-5 northbound to Sacramento through the night, stopping in Lost Hills and Mercy Springs for gas, snacks, and a stretch break. The biggest challenge with night riding was definitely the fatigue and boredom that came with the nothingness of the interstate. We made it to Patterson and sat down for breakfast. Even with the extended break, we still made it to Sacramento by 8am as planned and made the transition over to I-80, passing through Reno and Winnemucca, NV and onto the desolation of US-95.

We found the sunrise in Patterson, CA.

Looking for our sanity somewhere near Emigrant Gap, CA.

One of the most essential tools that we had were our helmet-mounted Sena bluetooth intercoms. Communication during a long ride like this was essential, and it was important to keep each other updated on how we felt physically as well as continue conversations to stay awake. I found it fun to interject at times and inundate Edwin with random facts about the areas we were passing through because he had never ventured any farther north than Monterey, CA...until now. Also, staying hydrated was a priority. I went with my trusty CamelBak while Edwin went with a container mounted on a cup holder since he had a modular helmet that he could flip up. I threaded the flexible straw tube of the CamelBak through the bottom of my helmet.

Hello, Oregon. We come in peace.

Once we made it to US-95 in the early afternoon, it was a very desolate road with gas stops very far and in between. However, it was very beautiful and we were able to travel at a spirited pace. The state line was empty and only had a few buildings around it. We were rained on briefly shortly after crossing into Oregon but it wasn't a major downpour that required us to change into our rain suits. Speaking of gas stops, we had to detour to Rome, OR for gas after realizing that there were no other opportunities to fill up at the US-95/OR-78 junction where we were supposed to turn to head to Bend. That was an additional 16 miles down US-95, and it got hairy because we were well into our reserve levels in gas and didn't know how much we had left. To make things even more fun, the gas station in Rome was surrounded by sketchy gravel and potholes you could swim in. But we made the stop and survived. I wish I had taken a photo of the singular gas pump in the lot!

Somewhere on US-95 in Nevada. Those clouds in the sky would catch up with us later.

Once we made it back down the road to OR-78, it was about 200 miles of some of the quietest roads and nicest scenery you could imagine. Barely any cars, no airplanes or powerlines, and no cops in sight. We had to really throw down some speed to make it to Blockbuster before it closed because of those extended breaks we took because of fatigue, breakfast, photo ops, and a couple quick maintenance things (oil fill and chain lubing) along with the detour in Rome. With the exception of rain for about ten miles, the weather was as about as ideal as it could get. It was as cold as the upper 50s during the beginning of the ride and never exceeded 85°F at any time during the ride.

The good news? We did make it at 8:30pm that night with just enough daylight left to take pictures at the entrance. That was a long, 20.5 hour day. There was pizza, sliders, and wings at the end of the journey.

Here are the final stats from my own GPS tracking app (Geo Tracker) on my Android phone:

Of course, what goes up must come down. We took two days to return home from Bend, OR and took a more leisurely and touristy approach to that leg of the journey. Stay tuned on another blog entry for that.

Additional notes from this ride:

• Riding through the night was nice because there was no traffic. However, there were times that riding in the dark made it easier to lose focus.
• It's hard to plan for an Iron Butt when you're choosing roads that you've never ridden through. Be prepared to make last-minute changes, such as the detour to Rome, OR.
• There was no reason to speed for extended periods of time. Maintaining legal highway speeds was sufficient for completing this ride.
• Bringing your own snacks saves time and money! Also, consider easy to eat snacks such as energy bars. I'm a fan of Honey Stinger Organic Waffles.
• Bring additional fluids for your bike! We ended up using chain lube and topping off on motor oil.
• You don't have to carry everything with you when you ride with a friend. For example, I brought the snacks and Edwin had a cooler to store all the drinks.
• Know the other person's riding style. Chemistry is essential to completing an Iron Butt ride with a partner. This wasn't the first time I had ridden with him; in fact, the first long ride we did together was a total of 250 miles and was treated as a simulation of the real thing.
• Invest in a high-capacity USB power bank and a reliable cable. (Anker is a tried and tested brand that I prefer.) Knowing that my Sena intercom couldn't last an entire 20-hour run, I made sure to plug the headset in to charge during use in the latter parts of the ride.

Want to know how we got home? Here's the next part of the ride.

SABRE and Dreams of Travel - a quickwrite

Traveling has always been in my blood. But it has been years since I've been able to appease that hunger. Most of my extensive, self-exploratory travel occurred in my 20s between two motorcycles. Now that I am in my 30s, life turned a corner and my priorities had to change. Although I am grateful for every mile my motorcycles have transported me through North America, I still yearn for the opportunity to explore the rest of the world with more mature eyes. Jokingly, my goal is to "finally leave North America, but I haven't decided which direction in which I would do it."

This has been a lifelong dream. When I was about 11 or 12, my father decided to open a part-time travel agency that operated in what was once the dining room of the house. It was a small operation with a single desktop computer, a thermal fax machine, and the whirring of a dial-up 56k modem. It was from a combination of the fax machine and incoming emails that we would receive information about the latest promotions for cruises and international flights. Back then, it was pretty clear that I had a knack for working on computers, and over a period of time, I was eventually exposed to and allowed to play freely on SABRE, an airline ticket reservation system that was the travel industry standard at the time.

Now, twenty or so years ago, it was a prevalent idea that one would never purchase a plane ticket straight from the airline unless it was a major emergency and there wasn't much of a choice. Travel agencies were the brokers of the discounted airfare, the friendly middleman who coordinated itineraries with service and a smile. This was long before Travelocity, Hotwire, Expedia, and all of those online discounters did the work for you. This was my father's gig and he did it quite well, or at least it seemed by some of the commission checks he'd receive on a regular basis.

My desire to travel, however, had to remain my own secret. The travel agency was a business that fulfilled the dreams of many a customer. However, my father's ideas of what a travel agency represented had its contradictions. For me, SABRE was a textual fantasy escape platform where I could sit in front a screen and imagine the experiences of visiting places that I had only read about on short articles on Microsoft Encarta. But when I wished to see these places, even mentioning a theoretical plan for a trip to visit the country of my own ethnic roots, it was out of the question. No explanations, no negotiations. For some reason, travel was acceptable to everyone else but me. But why? I asked. There was nothing that I had done wrong. Perhaps it was the fear what I would gain too much knowledge by leaving the comfort (or lack thereof) of this small hole in the middle of Carson, CA.

I became impatient with the idea of being stuck in a misogynistic, gilded cage for the rest of my life and acted upon it. When I was 19 and a junior at USC, I stopped waiting for my chance. I lied about the dates of my scheduled Spring Break to my parents because they expected me to stay home during that time. I purchased a ticket online on Southwest Airlines and flew to Baltimore, MD to see a friend who was going to Johns Hopkins University at the time. It was my first time flying on a plane and it was an exhilarating experience, all the way down to the sample snack box filled with Golden Oreos and honey roasted peanuts. It was the first time I had traveled anywhere east of Arizona and I relished every moment. I even got to visit Washington, D.C. and absorb the history of this place. When I received my motorcycle endorsement that year and eventually, Eleanor less than three years later, I became the asphalt pilot that has, to this date, traversed 45 states, two Canadian provinces, over 200,000 miles, and has survived to tell the tale. As many of these tales have been written about on this blog and a couple other places, these were things that I couldn't be outwardly proud of when I first accomplished them. Nowadays, I can finally recognize them as some of the best accomplishments of my life so far.

In my current forays in real-time ridesharing, I often find myself in journeys to and from LAX by virtue of my home's proximity to the airport. I'd usually ask my passengers about their travels. Majority of the arrivals and destinations are domestic in nature from all parts of the United States. But sometimes, I'll get the one person with a journey that either began or ended at Tom Bradley International Terminal. Passengers would be quite surprised when I would name those international airports. Toronto Pearson. London Heathrow. Charles du Gaulle. Leonardo da Vinci. IATA codes fly through my brain like I was the one setting up those flights again on that desktop. SABRE was such a part of my childhood that it is half of my main email address.

I think about the barriers that stood in my way when it came to exploring the world, and I was inspired to write this piece by the travels of another who stated, "I decided that I was wasting my life waiting on anybody." I can feel the pain in that remark and can only imagine the heartbreak that led to such a jaded view of the roles that companions can play in one's life. I have fought through the sadness I experienced from the people who have come and gone through my own journeys. The ones who I thought were going to continue traveling with me but decided to disembark without much warning are long gone. However, the memory of their abandonment doesn't sting as it once did when it was fresh and raw. 

I do not prefer to say that I am standing still in my life while waiting for someone to accompany me on the paths onward. But rather, I am on one of those automatic walkways that you'd see in a typical airport for those people who just need a little break from the walking between terminals, drifting in a direction but still moving gradually enough that someone else could catch up, join me, and drift toward the destination together.

I can only hope that, with time, I will find that co-traveler. But I will not be waiting for you standing still. But rather, I will glide along, my hand outstretched in one direction and my eyes toward the sun. If you come along, it will be the adventure of a lifetime. And perhaps, if I could earn your trust, I can share the tales of the lifetimes I have lived as we become inspired to create new tales. May the dreams that can only be fulfilled thousands of miles away from home ignite your inspiration, calm those fears, and remind you that it is okay to finally live.

A word or two before this semester is over...

This blog post is a bit different from what I usually do here on Two-Wheeled Tourist. This is a mind dump and completely unedited as I am studying for my last final of the Spring 2018 semester. Some of these thoughts may be fragmented, but perhaps I can share some insight amid my ramblings while I try to clear my head. Continue at your own risk.

Thought #1

One of my course readings for this class (and a featured part of this final exam) is a book named Leading with Soul (2nd Edition) by Lee Bolman and Terrence Deal. It's about the emotional, unteachable side of leadership as told in an allegory form about a worn-out, yet successful businessman who seeks the wisdom of a sage who identifies with his pitfalls because she has lived them herself. In many ways, the ideas in this book transcend leadership but also moving forward from the situations that make us feel like we've lost our way.

“The dark night of the soul comes just before revelation. When everything is lost, and all seems darkness, then comes the new life and all that is needed.” (p. 47)

Exactly four years ago today (not kidding), I began my motorcycle courier work in Westwood, delivering fresh donuts throughout the Westside. I continued to log in over 1500 deliveries of God-knows-what over a two year period, and that journey even led to one of the most extensive delivery jobs, I have ever done; dropping off healthcare correspondence in two counties in an eight hour period spanning over 250 miles. Aside from my long-distance Iron Butt runs, that was one of the most exhausting riding missions that I had ever subjected my body to endure. By the end of that run, I had consumed nearly a gallon of water via my Camelbak and had lost about five pounds. Pony Express got nothing on this bitch.

Why does that story come to mind? It was a dark time in my life. My marriage was ripped apart and the divorce was barely finalized. My mentor had passed away a few months prior, my job prospects were looking slim, several people who I thought were my friends walked out of my life, I had my motorcycle, and I had nothing else to lose. I drowned myself in work and thought that was okay because I had no other recourse but to simply survive. Four years later, I am not in the dark place that I was before. Sure, my job prospects have returned to a similar state (lucky me, right?), but what I need in my life has changed. It's not that I have nothing else to lose, it's that I have everything else to gain, and the ones who chose to leave will leave. No unnecessary tears will be shed for them.

“It is in passionate leaps of faith that we propel the human spirit forward." (p. 63)

One of the hardest practices that I have had to learn after two decades of being emotionally suppressed for my own survival is accepting that embracing my emotions is both difficult and necessary if I want to completely embrace myself. This has also required me to take a lot more chances in multiple arenas. So despite the sometimes straightforward approaches I take to my thinking, I have to deliberately stop myself to process what is not only going through my head but also what my heart tells me. This is weird, but it is liberating. I'm getting better at it every single day.

In response to Bob Marley's quote, "You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice," once you've figured out how strong you can be, find your way back to a place to where it is safe to be vulnerable again, no matter how long it takes.

Thought #2

My study guide is mine to do what I will, including writing directions specific to me.

Thought #3

This academic year can go shove it deep up the wrong hole. It has been a rough ride both at a professional and at a personal level.

In this 2017-2018 school year alone, I have seen the ins and outs of two school districts and all of the empty promises that come from the lack of recognition of the humanity that, in an ironic fashion, builds the foundations in which these systems exist. Because of this, I have temporarily suspended pursuing rejoining organizations that supposedly exist for the purpose of serving it. My own cynicism has caused me to shield my own heart until I am strong enough to throw myself to the wolves of service again.

I have seen the sputtering and the crashing of a relationship that should've died last summer when I had the ability to cut the cord and the knife was in my hands. But I gave that last chance and threw the life preserver instead of letting you drown, some futile attempt to allow the even remote possibility that there would be a turnaround. But alas, you did take that life preserver. And for just a little while, your life offered you to hope again and yet you still chose to float along at my expense. And then you chose to blame your failures on me because I couldn't carry you anymore. I cannot live for two people, and the only mercy you provided me was that you let yourself out, even if it was in the most cowardly of all fashions.

I have proven that I care. I am loyal until the end. I have also proven that sometimes, I can care too much and fight too hard to keep something that was tearing me apart rather than building me up. Never again. Nowadays, I remain guarded yet hopeful because I have nothing to lose now. Or rather, I am reminded that only the best people deserve me and that I am worthy of unconditional love.

I will not drag you to the finish line. I will not tell you how to get there because it is not my right. Here's what I will do. I will reach for your hand and hold it. I will watch you fall and laugh with you, not at you. I will be there with that jug of water when your body has reached the point of failure. I will have faith in your life journey and cheer on your progress. I will support you in any way I can as you rebuild your mind and soul. But at the same time, I am on a similar journey of rebuilding my own mind and soul and can only hope that you can continue to be there despite my wounds, even if it is just your presence and the gift of your time. And all the while, I will keep reminding myself that I deserve to let my guard down and trust that I will be safe.

Thought #4

Goddammit, I am a nervous wreck sometimes. Am I doing life right? Have I reached the threshold that this question no longer carries any weight?

How to un-suck the holiday season. Be the better person.

Frankly, the holidays can go bite my left ear.

Although my level of seasonal depression fluctuates from year to year, 2013 has reached an all-time high of super suck. Sure I may be having a good time for a couple days out of these several weeks, with the food, hugs, well-wishes, etc. But really, regardless of how much I'm involved, there comes a moment when I'm here sitting by myself in some state of loneliness wondering why everything had to crash down on me at once right before the holidays. Perfect timing, huh?

[The Bittersweet] SoCal Refresher Course

In the beginning of March, I had the impromptu chance to go home to Southern California for a few days for a job interview. This was a trip I had to keep under wraps until I knew what was going to happen, so if this is the first time you're ever hearing about this, don't feel so bad...I feel better enough to talk about it now.

With the company I was interviewing with paying for the flight, the only thing I had to arrange was lodging and a motorcycle to ride. Fortunately I have an extended family and good friends to help me out. Leaving at 6AM EST on a Thursday with a stopover in Chicago's O'Hare International Airport (which, in ironic fashion, is the only time I've ever arrived there by air), I reached LAX by 9:30AM PST and proceeded to have a nice lunch with my aunt (a.k.a. one of the only biological relations I have that hasn't disowned me yet). After that, it was some relaxing and motorcycle riding before my interview the following day.

This was the first time I've returned to the area in two years (to read about that 2011 adventure, click here), so I did what I could to make the best of it. Here are some photos of the places I still call home.

Gotta give props to my fellow USC Trojan.

Being gainfully underemployed as of late, I found myself looming around YouTube in between online job searches and coming across a professional moviemaker named "freddiew" who has his own exclusive channel on the site. I later came to find out that not only is he a former world Guitar Hero tournament champion, he's also a fellow alumnus of the University of Southern California and a graduate of the USC School of Cinema-Television (now known as the School of Cinematic Arts).

Being the aspiring filmmaker and a professional videographer during my time in California, I was very entertained and inspired by his short skits that demonstrated his excellent storyboarding and editing skills with Final Cut Pro and Adobe AfterEffects among other things. I originally applied to USC's film school back in 2003 but ended up receiving an English degree and a minor in Education. But, I still have that dream of doing something greater with my freelance videotaping and technology talents than just teaching a random high school digital media class.

Watching these videos just made me smile, laugh a bit, think about home (many of his short films were shot on campus at USC, nearby Downtown LA, and even a short jaunt to the Mulligan's in Torrance) and help me hope that perhaps someday, my mixed bag of skills may be of use to someone at a larger scale. It also reminded me of how much could have been possible for me if I didn't have to keep swimming upstream in unnecessary condescension with the words "you can't do this" ringing through my head for over 25 years. I can still remember when my father said to me that going to film school was not what Asian females do, a "complete waste of time," and that I was going to be nothing more than a "jack of all trades, master of none" if I followed my passions rather than finding a job that made money. I ignored him (I still do, with authority, as a matter of fact) and went on to run a successful DVD production company for over ten years. I guess I can consider that a personal victory.

Here's to someone that not only enjoys what he does, but does it extremely well and makes a wonderful career of it. Fight On (and enjoy the guns)!