Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
- We are scientists, too!
4.26.2007,5:03 PM
My Plutonium Butt Ride
My Plutonium Butt Ride
On the road and deciding I was riding the rest of the way home, stopping only to fuel up, it occurred to me that this was going to be an unofficial Iron Butt Ride.
Iron…….. why iron? Such a ubiquitous metal that sits like a stone. Most stones have iron in them. This was not a common ride, nor do I ride like an iron stone.
Now, plutonium is a radioactive metallic chemical with a half-life of 24 thousand to 80 million years. That seemed more appropriate: this run was decided upon less than halfway home and this trip was going to be remembered for 80 million years. Or until I’m gone, whichever comes first.
Plutonium is often referred to as the ‘most complex metal’. Since this was a trip full of complications and complexities, it seem even more appropriate.
So, while moving around on my bike’s seat trying to get comfortable (more my left leg and ankle than anything else), I laughingly decided to dub this return trip home: my Plutonium Butt Ride.
Except for a brief stop at an Iron Skillet to inhale a terrible BLT sandwich (I hate white bread and the lettuce was soggier than the bacon was greasy), I fueled only Whee’s gas tank and pointed Whee for home.
Now riding a bit more aggressively with an average speed of 70-80 mph, we sailed home feeling more confident and spirited. Riding through Rockwall at the tail end of rush hour, I was grinning and we hit Dallas at 6:00 pm. I pulled into my gravel drive with 1140.1 miles at 7:45 pm.
Although I left the cabin the night before (or was it that morning?........ ) shortly after 7 pm, I allowed myself some slack for stopping to chat with Bill on the phone, catching some needed Z’s in a Suburban parked at a truck stop, and searching for the elusive Western Union in Dickson, Tennessee.
Pulling up on the gravel at home, I turned off Whee’s engine and sat on the bike for a moment. Actually, I wasn’t sure if I could get off. My left calf was sore, my bad left ankle now throbbing, and my hip flexors seized up. I slowly and carefully eased myself off the bike, pulled the liners out of my side bags and let myself in the house. I left the rest of the bike loaded.
It was good to be home.
On the road and deciding I was riding the rest of the way home, stopping only to fuel up, it occurred to me that this was going to be an unofficial Iron Butt Ride.
Iron…….. why iron? Such a ubiquitous metal that sits like a stone. Most stones have iron in them. This was not a common ride, nor do I ride like an iron stone.
Now, plutonium is a radioactive metallic chemical with a half-life of 24 thousand to 80 million years. That seemed more appropriate: this run was decided upon less than halfway home and this trip was going to be remembered for 80 million years. Or until I’m gone, whichever comes first.
Plutonium is often referred to as the ‘most complex metal’. Since this was a trip full of complications and complexities, it seem even more appropriate.
So, while moving around on my bike’s seat trying to get comfortable (more my left leg and ankle than anything else), I laughingly decided to dub this return trip home: my Plutonium Butt Ride.
Except for a brief stop at an Iron Skillet to inhale a terrible BLT sandwich (I hate white bread and the lettuce was soggier than the bacon was greasy), I fueled only Whee’s gas tank and pointed Whee for home.
Now riding a bit more aggressively with an average speed of 70-80 mph, we sailed home feeling more confident and spirited. Riding through Rockwall at the tail end of rush hour, I was grinning and we hit Dallas at 6:00 pm. I pulled into my gravel drive with 1140.1 miles at 7:45 pm.
Although I left the cabin the night before (or was it that morning?........ ) shortly after 7 pm, I allowed myself some slack for stopping to chat with Bill on the phone, catching some needed Z’s in a Suburban parked at a truck stop, and searching for the elusive Western Union in Dickson, Tennessee.
Pulling up on the gravel at home, I turned off Whee’s engine and sat on the bike for a moment. Actually, I wasn’t sure if I could get off. My left calf was sore, my bad left ankle now throbbing, and my hip flexors seized up. I slowly and carefully eased myself off the bike, pulled the liners out of my side bags and let myself in the house. I left the rest of the bike loaded.
It was good to be home.
Labels: Adventures
