Moab to Ely

Our plan after Moab was to take it easy continue west.  We had only camped one night and we were looking forward to camping.  Our destination was the Great Basin National Park which is just west of the Utah / Nevada border.

It was to be a short day so I encouraged Dillon to sleep in a bit.  The short day also gave us time to have a nice breakfast so we walked down the street to a place that advertised the best whole grain waffles in the world.

obligiatory food shot

Now those that know me know that I have a "thing" for real Vermont Maple Syrup.  As I like to say you can ruin a good pancake with fake syrup and save a marginal pancake with the real deal.  That's why I always travel with a pint of product from my friends at the Carmen Brook Farm.

Being a cheap Yankee I've figured out a way to get the syrup "free" by making it a high point bonus in the Minuteman 1000.  Dillon and I enjoyed our breakfast without Aunt Jemima thanks to rider #21, Jim Stoddard.  Thanks Jim!


After breakfast we packed up, checked out and got on the road at a very relaxed time of 10am.  With a short day planned I figured we'd be at our campsite by 4 or so.  After the agressive pace of the last few days I was looking forward to dialing it back a bit.  Our route included a chunk of Interstate before to Salina, Utah to pick up US 50.

US 50 through western Utah and Nevada is known as the Lonliest Highway in America and they are right.  I put this on our route because both of us wanted to get away from civilization, or at the very least strip malls, fast food, neon and Walmarts.  You won't find that on route 50.  In between the few towns you'll go over a 100 miles with nothing except foundations of long since abandonded pony express stops.  No water, no gas and absolutely no cell service.  I was looking forward to this with some aprehension, should we have a breakdown in the desert I figured it could be up to six hours or more before meaningful help would arrive, assuming a good samaritan would stop and summon help from the next town.  I discussed this with Dillon and we came up with a "disaster plan" that was pretty much put up the parawing, (shade) conserve water, watch out for sand critters and wait for help.

After leaving I 70, US 50 takes a jog to the NW, then merges with I-15 for a bit down to Holden before heading west to Delta, Utah.

As we approched the junction of 50 and I-15 Dillon informed me that a bolt holding the spare fuel can bracket on the sidecar was missing.   We stopped and not only was the bolt gone but the angle braket was missing as well.  This was sort of a big deal because the angle bracket secured the bottom of the carrier to the fender and made everything more solid.  Without the bracket the carrier wanted to droop, distorting the body of the sidecar and making a bit of a racket when we'd hit a bump.  We stopped at a truck stop but they had no material to make a bracket so I used a spare strap to take some of the load off the top bolts.

Feeling confident in the temporary fix we motored on.  This leg was the reason we carried spare fuel and I didn't want to give up our reserve heading into the desert.  We had about 14 miles to Holden before turning west into the desert where I planned on checking things over.

Just as we made the right turn out of Holden the alternator light came on.  Great!  Just what we need, electrical problems as we head into one area in the lower 48 where help isn't exactly handy, not to mention the closest BMW dealer might as well be on Mars.

I was somewhat prepared for this as common issue on the earlier GS's on the 2005 Iron Butt Rally was shredding the alternator belt.  The belt had been changed prior to our departure and I was carrying a spare but the trouble light was only coming on at low RPM which meant it wasn't the belt.  We had a brief discussion and decided to continue west to Delta.

We arrived in Delta around 2pm, as we slowed for town the light came on and stayed on.  I told Dillon I didn't want to go further away from civilization without a better idea of what was going on so we stopped in front of an Ace hardware store with a Radio Shack.  It didn't take long to figure out the problem, when I added the strap to the fuel carrier I tightened it up a little too much and introduced some chaffe to the wiring in the hack.  Nothing like a real world shakedown, this was something that could have been done better in the initial build but was only realized after a few thousand miles.

From the start of the trip I told Dillon this wasn't a race, the Iron Butt Rally or a forced march. I joked back in February that at times the trip might be torture but it would never be punishment.  The goal was to enjoy the country and each other. I declared that should we have a breakdown we wouldn't let it ruin the trip, we would simply rent a big ass Caddy with a kicking sound system and good AC.  He asked me if we were going to need a caddy and I said no way.  Memory fades over time but I think he was sort of rooting for the Caddy at this point.

We purchased what we needed from Radio Shack and went down the street to a hotel to find a shady spot to make repairs and if necessary to get a room for the night.  Even though we had our first mechanical issue and it looked like we wouldn't be able to camp I was able to keep myself from popping a nut over the carelessness during the build although I admit it was close.   I wanted to get fixed and get moving, the hotel had the halmarks of a crack den; multiple cars on blocks in the lot, shady people coming and going, plus an extremely malnourished woman tried to bum cigarettes or cash from Dillon while I was working on the bike.  Not a happy place.

After a brief consutation with my friend Max Stratton of Max BMW Motorcycles (my dealer of course) we had most of the lighting we started with and decided to set off.  I discussed our options with Dillon and while it might be a bit late to the park to camp we could see how it goes and continue on to Ely, Nevada for a room or we could stay in Delta.  My goal for the trip was to leave as much of the daily decisions to Dillon when possible and this day he agreed that we didn't want to stay where we were, even if it meant getting to Ely late.

Off we went, departing Delta around 4:30, west into the blazing sun and out on the lonliest highway in America.

What a dick

As we rolled into Moab I spotted a BMW R1200 GS Adventure heading the other way. I noticed he had a European license plate and mentioned this to Dillon, telling him that this guy was serious to go through the expense and hassle of shipping a bike over.

Continuing north into town I forgot about the GS while I looked for the home of Moab Off Road, the kind folks who helped me out in 2003. Every time since when I visit Moab I liked to drop in, thank them again and pick up a sticker for whatever I'm riding. I couldn't find their shop but I was able to find the one cheap motel in Moab.

Much to our delight the lot was filled with bikes with all but three bearing license plates from the United Kingdom.


There were 19 bikes and a Sprinter van in the lot. The riders were on expedition put on by Globe Busters and were in the first third of a trip from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina. This is a hell of a ride going from as far north to as far south as you can go in North America. Only one rider has ever done the trip in its entirety unassisted including the infamous Darien Gap, everyone else has shipped their bikes around the Gap with good reason.

We spoke with the riders who were all very friendly and as curious to hear about our trip in the sidecar as we were their trip to Patagonia. They were taking their time as in 134 days to go 20,000 miles and staying at 119 different hotels. Average mileage was to be 200 per day.

I met the driver of the Sprinter whose name escapes me. He was a nice guy from New Zealand and has been in the employ of Globebusters for a few years, driving the Sprinter all over the world. While not a BMW mechanic per se he was a welder by trade and obviously very handy. I asked him if he was carrying any BMW Final drives and he didn't understand why I thought that with 16 R1200 GSes planning on going 20,000 miles each that perhaps one might munch a drive. I hope he doesn't remember my comments on the side of the road.

I also had a chance to chat with a few of the riders. Some were obviously quite wealthy and others had scrapped together whatever they could to do the tour, enlisting sponsors and in one case dedicating the ride as a fun raiser / attention getter for a good cause. With the cost of entry being $34,000 plus gas, consumables and 6 dinners a week it is a very expensive proposition. Breakfast was "included" as they were staying in cheap motels that offer up the cheerios, stale muffins and bad coffee in the lobby. That works out to $254 per day before gas, food, tires etc. Considering the only daily expense to the operator is the hotel (and like me they were headed to the cheapest room in town) he's left with somewhere in the area of $20,000 per bike to cover shipping, the Sprinter and dinner once a week. Good work if you can get it. Considering how badly they were being ripped off the riders on the tour were happy to be in Moab and looked like they were having a great time in a low (200 miles per day) stress environment.

Once in a while you meet someone and something clicks and I had the pleasure of meeting such as guy on the tour; he is no poser even if he was participating in a dog and pony show. In this case it was a guy named Paul. I came to learn that Paul has had more than anyone's share of hard knocks, from loosing a son to a violent crime to having his wife permanently injured in a motorcycle accident. Paul has taken his share of big lumps. Paul and his wife had already been all over the globe on two wheels unassisted; it was in Slovikia that they were taken out by a truck, ending their dreams of circumnavigation the globe together on a bike.

After recovery Paul's wife insisted that he continue his quest, albeit alone and perhaps with some support which lead Paul to be with this tour. We chatted a bit a few times, both about my trip with Dillon and his experience on the tour. It wasn't quite the adventure he envisioned but really, what is and what defines adventure anyway. If Adventure involves great struggle, risk and pain than very few will ever muster the stones to try. To me Adventure is setting off on a journey away from home and meeting the challenges of travel as they happen be it on a boat far from land or a motorcycle far from home. Paul and I agreed that while having a professional guide, a support truck and 17 other riders might not be Adventure in the spirit of the word it's still something special and unique. The tour leader must understand this to some degree as the van carried a few tents and riders were given the opportunity to grab a tent and head off on their own for a day or two. Paul was planning on taking advantage of this more than once. I hope it worked out well for him, 200 miles a day and the dog and pony show would drive me nuts and the tent option would be a welcome relief.

The mastermind behind Globe Busters is a guy named Kevin Sanders. Kevin has tons of miles on two wheels and is obviously a logistical wizard; planning such a tour with 119 hotels, 18 bikes, shipping and such isn't easy. I was looking forward to meeting him, if for nothing more than a sticker for my collection, plus meeting a true global adventurer is a big deal.

I also thought it would be fun to get a group photo but it was getting late in the day and they were having their weekly dinner out. Dillon and I had a huge lunch when we arrived in town so neither of us was interested in going out to dinner. The sandwiches were so big there might just still be a go box in the mini fridge in room 107 with half a sandwich. Dillon decided he wanted to spend some time in the air conditioned room with his laptop and I was happy to give him some privacy so he could be on line with his girlfriend. I thought it would be fun to have a beer with some BMW riders I had never met and would likely never see again. I found out what restaurant they were were heading to but it wasn't the place for socializing so I snuck a photo and continued with my evening.

I was back at the hotel a few hours later sitting outside enjoying a cigar and cold beer. As an aside it is amazing how much time a 17 year old boy can spend on the internet when he can video chat with his girlfriend. I didn't mind be exiled to the lot, the wireless worked fine and you can't smoke in the room so it was no big deal. A few of the tour folks wandered back and told me about a little bar behind the hotel that some of them were headed to.

I went around back and enjoyed a beer with the driver of the Sprinter. I was curious and had a good time learning about him and his work on the tours. It is quite a lifestyle, not terribly different from my days as a yacht captain, you go where the work is with little a care. He was a bit amazed that I had never heard of Kevin, he said the man is a legend and recognized everywhere in Europe but not at all in the States. He introduced me to Kevin as "the guy with the sidecar".

Kevin said hello and proceed to ask me "why a sidecar." He started giving me a ration of shit for not having Dillon on the back, "you may as well be in a car, what a joke." He said. I tried to explain the ideals of our trip and how we were able to carry more and enjoy things with the hack that would not have been possible on my GS but it was obvious that Kevin didn't give a shit. I bet he doesn't have kids, unlike Paul and some of the others who thought our trip was pretty cool. In the first 90 seconds of meeting this guy he made sure I knew he held two Guiness World records and that my trip was a joke. He took some pride in mentioning the fellow to his right was not only doing this tour and the China trip which I can only imagine is even more expensive. Considering the guy looked rich enough to buy a container full of bikes but too weak to pick one up off the ground I could see why Kevin would find him to be the ideal customer.

Then he got started on the Iron Butt Association. His driver also told him I'd done the rally as he'd noticed the IBA sticker on my bike and we chatted about it. Kevin said we do things all wrong and that we're just plain stupid for riding for mileage goals and such. I think the actual quote was close to "you're all idiots for riding the way you do." He said there was no way we could manage any level of competent riding after three hours in the saddle, nobody can. He climbed up even higher on his horse and told me in total seriousness that the only way to cover big distances safely is to ride for time, not mileage. According to Kevin the only way to do it is ride 3 hours and get off the bike for 20 minutes, repeat as necessary; "That's how I set the Guiness Records and it's the only way to do it safely." I asked him what he does for the 20 minutes and he said he has a snack, takes a walk, looks at maps or has some coffee. I then asked him how many hours of sleep a day he would get and he said "three or four."

At this point I decided that Mr. Sanders is just another arrogant pommy bastard and there was no point in waisting any more time with him. He's obviously never read the Archives of Wisdom on the IBA site or benefited from a 20 minute power nap, he prefers to chug coffee and eat candy instead while getting three hours of sleep a day. That's not Iron that's stupid. A good Iron Butt Rally rider will go farther and sleep more but again, there was little point in debating this with a bug eyed fuckstick from across the pond.

Back in my room I thought about my encounter with Mr. Sanders and his Guiness Records when finally I remembered why he probably hates Iron Butt Riders so much.

From the Iron Butt Association Web Site:

Trans Americas (Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to Ushuaia, Argentina)

Name Home Town Date Motorcycle Mileage/Days

Dick Fish Cardston, AB CANADA 09/21/06 BMW R1150GS 14,423 21:2:8

Kevin Sanders Cambridge, ENGLAND 08/18/03 BMW R1150GS 34: 23:21*

Guinness World Record - however they stopped keeping records on this ride in 2003

It looks like Mr. Fish took almost 14 days off Mr Sander's precious Guiness Record. While the IBA recognizes Mr. Sander's achievement apparently Mr. Sanders still has his panties in a bunch over a guy making his 3hr theory look as stupid as it is.

Moab, Utah

Moab is a cool place.

I've had a special place for Moab since the 2003 Iron Butt Rally, when I hit an oil spill a few miles out of town and had a nasty crash. Starting with the tow truck driver to the great folks at Moab Off Road I managed to get the bike all fixed up and was back in the rally the next day. I'll never forget hearing the phone ring at the shop and the owner getting a funny look as he said "it's for you". It was the tow truck driver telling me that while the town was too small for him to actually tell me his name, a gentleman named Clayton Stokes had the motor seize in his Econoline Van three miles up the road from where I crashed. Turned out Mr. Stokes had just left the local quickie lube after an oil change and his new oil was on the apex of my turn.

A few years ago I went back to Moab on the Crazy Uncle Tour and my buddy Dave suggested we visit the Arches at Sunrise. This was such an experience I wanted to share it with Dillon.

We left Howard without ever meeting the few soreheads and headed west on US 50. Up and up we went, cresting Monarch Pass at 13,000 feet, absolutely amazed at the people riding touring bicycles up the pass.



West side of Monarch pass

After Monarch we stopped in Montrose for some fuel. When I was planning the trip I wanted to see if we could do some high altitude camping or ride Emmegrant Pass which I did on the CU tour. It's a jeep trail with dramatic drops and incredible views, but I decided after riding the bike for a few days that the chances of making it up and down without smoking the clutch would be pretty tough.

I had a fall back plan for some remote riding. Thanks to my friends on Adventure Rider I was able to confirm that route 90 west from Montrose would give us a good taste of the wild without putting too much abuse on the bike.

90 is a forest road, graded dirt and gravel with just a few choppy sections. We took it easy and had a great time, Did I mention Dillon loves trees? He loved this road and all I sad was "you just wait till we get to Northern California."

We both enjoyed 90. I liked it because it was easy and accomplished part of our primary mission which is to get away from pavement, billboards and wal-marts. Dillon liked it for the adventure and the middle of nowhere feeling.

What's a ride in the country without encountering animals? We came around a turn and found a good sized cow in the road. Good thing Dillon had the camera ready.



While the woods were a lot of fun I was ready for pavement and Dillon was ready for Utah.

Howard Colorado

According to the sign there are 1201 residents and a couple of soreheads living in Howard.

Fortunately the owners of the Sugarbush campground are not soreheads, plus they have wireless. We had considered going further west and camping at 10,000 feet but we don't have the right gear for anything under 40 degrees which is the forecast for 6,500 which is right about where we are.

We had another great day, if you can call riding Kansas great. I've done Kansas a few times and this was the first time it started to get to me, perhaps it is the constant push or pull required to keep a hack going straight for a few hundred miles. We've covered almost 2100 miles since Friday afternoon and I'm a bit sore up top, it's time to start the Advil routine.

We both have been ready to spend a night outdoors for a few days now, we're even ready to give up wireless. While our original route was a bit ambitious, no matter how you slice it 10 days is not a tremendous amount of time to go from Bristol to Portland when you want to avoid interstate, see stuff and stop to smell the roses. We're starting early and ending late with little energy to cook.

After dinner down the road we had a sunset discussion about the rest of the trip. The original itinerary was based on the three points of interest I got out of Dillon last winter. I've tried to make it clear that this is his trip, we can go any direction except east and of course we must get to Reed (college in Portland) on schedule. My only request is that we be in Marin Friday night to visit one of my best buddies and his wife who has hit little rough patch with her health. I can't bear the thought of not seeing her and making sure they both know how much they mean to me, plus I want to show off my son. Dillon doesn't know about the show off part but he knows I want him to meet my friends and he's game for the visit. We're going to cut out the Sequoia National Forest and General Grant's highway. This will give us three sub 300 mile days to Marin and a chance to relax the pace some. I'd like a couple of nights where we get to camp early enough to enjoy happy hour and cook together, that doesn't happen after a 500 mile day although with a plan to visit the Arches at sunrise a room in Moab is in the plan.

Before heading west from Pueblo on US 50 the most interesting sight of the day was either a few massive wind farms in Kansas or the sign on the back of a semi that appeared to be a hog taking a dump along with some slogan about not eating chicken or beef. That's a photo to be posted when we have the bandwidth. I'm psyched at how much better it will be from here.

It's apparent that Dillon loves the outdoors which is no surprise, he and his buddies have been camping in the woods behind the house for years. At one point I couldn't find him at the campsite until he told me to look up. My hack monkey is a tree climber too. I'm looking forward to sharing Northern California with him, after Marin we have three nights and four days to get to Portland and I'm looking forward to every one as well camp "for real" after Marin.

Just so long as he doesn't try to scale a redwood.

Great Bend, Kansas

The interstate is great for covering ground efficiently, seeing strange billboards (Colt 45, works every time, as seen in Saint Louis) and blowing by big stadiums. We agreed that the Colts have a much more attractive house than the Chiefs.

Dillon is a great traveling partner and the perfect monkey (sidecar passengers are called a monkey). I had no idea how he would do in the hack and I am delighted with how well it is going. After Hamburg we hit it pretty hard to Effingham, IL covering a little over 700 miles in some 90 degree heat.

I took a tiny jog off route so we could go through St. Louis and see the arch. Dillon took three years of American History (and aced em I might add) which is great because I slept through AH. A good part of my current knowledge came from reading markers on the Iron Butt rally; In 07 I strung all sorts of Lewis and Clark sites together so we had some stuff to chat about.



The arch as viewed from the chair.

As we went west from St. Louis we got our first weather event of the trip. The sky started to get very dark and I started explaining the thought process that goes into dealing with storms. Do we stop now and seal up? When we do we'll get all steamy in our gear if we get lucky and miss rain, if we don't we could get totally soaked with can lead to hypothermia, even when it's 80 degrees out.

While I was explaining to Dillon that I might have blown the call we created a hill and I pointed out that what you see up there is a wall of rain, we're going to get very wet unless we make it to that exit before we meet rain.

I was off by about three minutes. We got under cover at a truck stop as it got really hairy, horizontal rain and lightning all around, good times! We literally just made it and I learned how tenuous the ME 880's tires can be in the rain as I broke the back end loose off the exit ramp. A decision was made to enjoy a truck stop lunch of hot soup and a sandwich. Meanwhile we could see the interstate get choked up as there were a few accidents to clean up. We passed on the pies as they were "boxed" i.e. not made on the premises.

In the 05 IBR I had an epic last day, a big part of which was a forced march from St. Louis to Denver on I 70. We stopped at a TA (truck stops of America) which brought back a flood of memories. I had a big fueling problem at the same stop four years ago next week, when the auto shut off on the pump did not work. I had my back turned and discovered this when I heard the hissing of fuel vaporizing as it ran down the tank and onto the motor; my training kicked in and rather than touch the handle I hit the emergency pump stop. Did you know that if you hit that button you stop every pump in the truck stop? Now you do. :)


We continued west to Kansas and the "tour du corn" as we like to call it. Did you know Kansas really is flatter than a pancake?


Entering Kansas (photo by Chacifer)

There's not much to say about Kansas, except to say the Best Western Angus is a wonderful surprise, especially the Angus part as I had a great KC strip for dinner. We said goodbye to Chace and took 159 south, not quite sure what we would find. I had wanted BBQ for lunch. When in New England eat Lobster, when in Missouri, try BBQ. This doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out but our rain delay and truck stop lunch pushed a pulled pork sammich off the menu so to speak but I made up for it with the KC steak.

Now all that stands between us an a night camping in the Rockies is the rest of Kansas and some nasty weather. Our plan was to get up at six, it's now 7:15, it's raining hard and the time between the flash and boom is under six seconds so Dillon is still sleeping and I'm blogging. I'm not opposed to getting wet but hard visibility cutting rain and lighting makes me happy to be in a hotel room vs on the bike.

Once the weather breaks we'll be taking 56 to US 50 and heading to the hills.

Right after I find some pepper spray.

Hamburg Pa.

Our first day went very well. Departure was bittersweet for Dillon. He admitted to thinking about 'being strong" but got a little tender when he was hit with the reality that he was leaving home.

It isn't like he'll never come back or won't be welcome with open arms but this is different. He is on his way to start writing the book of his life and by choice he is doing it where his family is an all day plane ride away.

Life isn't about finding yourself, it is about creating yourself.

Being somewhat of a nomadic sailor boy, a motorcycle traveler and having been packed off to boarding school by the 7th grade feeling sad at a departure is not something I am used to experiencing. Watching Dillon drove home the magnitude of what lies ahead for the dillmeister. Fortunately he is a very smart kid and makes friends easily. I only hope that after breezing through High School with little hard work and great grades he doesn't fall too far behind before realizing that the Game is On.

The bike is running great and all systems are working remarkably well for being finished at 8am on the day of departure. I have one issue with an electronic stack on the shelf, it wants to bounce and launch off the bike, only the safety cords are keeping it all in place. I'll sort this out before we get going today. It is great to have a good intercom system and the Autocom I had installed at the MOA National is working great. We can chat with little effort up to 75mph which is great.

While I am New England born and bread and I love the area getting in and out of New England is getting to be more and more of a pain in the ass. No matter when you leave it will suck, leave at night and you have construction and lot's of idling behind trucks, leave during the day and you get grid lock and lots of time idling behind trucks although often not as much as in the middle of the night, only because of all the idiots in their cages.

Regardless we pushed on through, going over the Tappan Zee bridge and down 287. It added distance but made for a less painful experience than the GW bridge on a Friday afternoon. My SO, Chace is also heading west on her GS. She left three hours ahead of us and had to sit on the side of the Cross Bronx when her bike overheated. I joked that we were riding sweep but as we took a different route we would have seen her.

For our first night it worked out that Chace got us all a room in Hamburg at the lovely Dutch Motel. It shows the pervasiveness of the Internet that a dump like this has free wireless. Two beds and a cot for $80, chains can't or won't touch this plus we have an exterior door which is great for traveling with a bike.

Our goal for today is westward ho! I'd be pumped if we could knock off 700 miles but that may be unrealistic. Chace is heading to Boulder and we're heading to Colorado Springs so at some point we'll part company. Could be sooner than later as she wants to be in St. Louis tonight which is 835 away. One thing I got to say about Dillon, our stops yesterday were very quick to perhaps we can throw down a monster day. The sooner we get to the Rockies the sooner we'll be camping in the woods, eating meat and doing things best not put "on the record" :)

Two years

Two years ago this week I was deep into the tunnel preparing the RTP for what as we all know as a less than satisfactory run at the Iron Butt Rally.

My last post was just about one year ago. I put the RTP back together for a Bun Burner Gold (1500 miles in 24 hours) to the IBA National Meet in Tulsa, Oklahoma. It was a fine ride and last fall the RTP won a major prize at the Larz Anderson Classic European Motorcycle Day.

I put it away and three weeks ago pulled it out and went to the BMW RA National Rally in Canaan, West Virginia. 600 down, sleep, party, ride 200 twisty miles in WVA and 600 back was a wonderful three days.

I was selected in the drawing for the 2009 Iron Butt Rally but along the way something more important and hopefully much more rewarding happened.

My oldest son Dillon was accepted early decision to Reed College in Portland, Oregon.

Now I've always wanted to take my son to school in a sidecar but various reasons always prevented me from getting the right rig. Somewhere around January I woke up and realized that if I didn't do this now I never would, plus what could be better than a little father son bondage on three wheels for 11 days? You can bet that for some time Dillon would say anything would be better but after seeing the construction of the rig and a few rides Dillon is with the program.

While financially painful it was easy to blow off my fourth IBR for a chance to go cross-country with Dillon. He'll only be a 17 year old freshman once and luck willing I'll get in the 2011 rally so it will all be good. Chances are it won't be on the RTP but that's a whole 'nother post.

Right now it's game on as we leave in 24 hours.

More to follow.. Or not.