Birthday Butter-Butt SS1K, Penance Ride-to-Redemption Options

[beeroux]

Birthday Butter-Butt SS1K: Penance Ride-to-Redemption
March 10th, 2006



Under cold and clear skies I rode my new Yamaha R1 up to Washington state and arrived at Iggy's place in Pasco in time for dinner and farkling. Iggy and I already had the bike torn apart and disheveled, then we retired for the night into several very tasty bottles of local red wine along with a fine steak and salad prepared artfully by Iggy's girlfriend. The plan was to get the bike ready for a Warchild assisted farkle blitz on Saturday, but he surprised us with a late night visit, so with swerve and fear we charged into a tedious and complex job of replacing the stock bars with slightly higher Heli-bars.

In short order, Warchild found that a crucial part connecting the bars to the steering dampener was missing, and I fell into a deep funk. I did NOT want to ride this bike without the dampener. A high-speed tank slapper on this kind of bike never turns out well for the rider. As per his usual generosity, Warchild said he'd take the one off his bike and give it to me on Saturday. A nice gesture, but I hated to put him out like that.

Turns out it was easy to remove, and on saturday, we reconvened in Iggy's plush carpeted garage and set to work. As noon arrived, so did Tobie and Lisa Stevens, who presumably came to watch and provide moral support, but it was immediately clear they came only to heckle and jab.

We had a great time. <G>



Later, up came Doug Chapman and later still, Eric Vaillancourt arrived and the farkle-party was in full swing. Widder connects, accessory tank-bag power, tank protector, Heli-Bars, oil change, etc. Everyone was helping grab tools, crimping wires, and fetching beers. It was really kind of awesome to tell you the truth. LD peeps is the BEST!

Warchild took off after he realized we were on cruise, and he went to work for some last minute project he was working on. Few realize how hard Warchild works and how MUCH he contributes his time to worthy causes and LD scurge like myself. He is tireless, and I myself really appreciate all his efforts.

The whole crew took off at 5 to meet him at a mexican restaurant for my birthday party. Warchild brought his absolutely lovely bride Kathy, and Chapman's splendid wife Linda met us there as well. Later, Mike Ledbetter, Dan Denchel, and his son showed up and soon the margaritas had been served and we all dove deep into those luscious glasses. Bliss on ice, lemme tell you.



The Steven's had brought a gift, so I groped into the nice little bag that held a nice card and a few gifts. Imagine my surprise that one of the gifts was a lighthouse joke. Imagine that.


The white sticker on the cover was a home-made sticker that said: "Bonus feature! How to photograph Lighthouses while touring the Nations Hot Springs". We all laughed, and then Tobie said to look inside the book for another gift. OK, a lottery ticket scratcher card thingie.



I scratch off all the grey goo, and something didn't look right. I take a closer look.



HOLY SHIT!!!!! I won 10,000 dollars!!!!!

No joke, there it was in black and green. I was stunned. We were ALL stunned. I had just won 10 grand and it felt like a miracle. My bike was paid for by the lottery. Unbelievable. I passed the scratcher around and the table was buzzing with quiet disbelief and awe. The energy surrounding the table was palpable.

Doug Chapman then mentioned that he thinks I was only supposed to scratch off three spots instead of all six. My heart started sinking. I might have just fucked myself from 10 grand. I look at the back of the ticket to read the rules. It mentions right off that indeed, to redeem the ticket is the stuff of fantasy. "redeemable only in your wildest dreams". It went on, but I caught the gyst.

It was a prank ticket, and most of the table, and no one more then myself, had been HAD.

DOH!!!!! I HATE you Lisa Stevens! ( but I instantly love you again )

Man that was a great prank. I've never been taken on a ride like that. here I was thinking the stars and planets had aligned and I was the luckiest guy in the world. What a dope, and DUPED!

Oh well, for a few minutes there I knew what it was like to be a winner. Truth be told though, I already felt like a winner, honored that some folks had ridden over 200 miles to party with me on my 38th birthday. Life is so damn good.

We all had a good laugh and ordered more margaritas. The food came, we chowed, and had another margarita. I was getting pretty plastered, and thankful that I didn't have to ride back to Matt's. The entire wait staff came around and sang me a song in spanish, I think it was "happy birthday".

I was so honked, it could have been the National Anthem of Paraguay for all I knew. I got to wear a huge sombrero during the song though, so it was OK.



Life is so damn good.

I'm not sure, but I recall we all ordered another round of margaritas before calling it a night. At least calling it a night at the restaurant. We all went back to Matt's for some deliscioso margaritas Matt whipped up, and we partied into the wee hours. Most of us at Matt's had been in the 2005 Butt, and we reminisced about our rides and experiences. There's a lot that happens out there that the world at large will never know. It's always great to hear other peoples story's about their ride. It was a groovy scene fa sho.

Early on sunday the Chapman's and the Steven's rode off for home and the rest of us all passed out in varying ways and hit the sack. Good times.

Sunday found us all waking late, and grabbing some grease at the local hole. My plan was to ride to Portland and spend the night at Jeff Earl's crib. Eric V. and I suited up and took off.



Eric rode at a brisk but steady pace, and me zooming past and slowing down the whole time, as I was still breaking the R1 in. The weather was forecast for major rain all over the North Wet, and when I found nearly clear skies in Portland, I called Jeff and told him I was regrettably going to pass on dinner and head for the coast and grab a room in Newport while the weather was still good. There was a good chance I could get stuck in snow or ice, so I decided getting to the coast promptly was my best bet. Eric waved goodbye at his exit and I soldiered on to the coast with an already very sore butt.

I had a minor slide going over the mountains on one slick corner but kept the bike upright and promptly pulled over to urinate the gallon or so of adrenaline that had just been dumped into my body. I arrived in Newport around 9pm and found snow melting on the road sides. Yikes, it had snowed on the coast. My ride home seemed dubious at best.

I had some beers and dinner at the Rogue brewery in Newport. It's always a major coup for me to stop there and have some beers on tap that don't get bottled for the masses. As I'm eating, I hear several giggly female voices coming up the stairs, and in walk three cute hotties ready to party. They had already been to a few bars, and Rogue was their last stop. Evelyn, Mary, and Annette were there to celebrate Mary's 21st birthday, so I bought them a round. We chatted and downright cavorted for a spell. It was fun watching Mary go through the 21st birthday ritual. I knew without a doubt she'd be barfing a steady stream in a few hours time. It was great. The bartender took a small polaroid for each of us.



Last call came and went so we all walked out to our rides. The ladies were going ga-ga over my shiny red rocket. It was almost embarrassing. Almost. I received three hugs and one very wet kiss from Annette. Yowza. This was followed by a boozy proposal whispered in my ear, but I had to decline. Her ardour was tittilating, but it bounced off my shining armor. Hard to explain but it felt like the right thing to do. I deflected her words of consternation the best I could and suited up. All in all it was a memorable night, and the subtle magic of the events had me feeling pretty good.

I took off Monday morning for Crescent City and spent the entire ride getting soaked to the bone. The riding position on a sport bike has your arms almost vertical, so rain just rolled right down my Stich and completely filled my waterproof gloves. At stop lights I'd raise my hands up and water would gush out in thick streams from my gloves onto the ground. Many a cager looked at me with horror whenever I did this. It was getting pretty miserable, but I was determined to get to Crescent City. Eventually the wind picked up and would gust my bike side to side. I was sure missing the FJR at this point. A few hundred heart-gulping moments later, I arrived in Crescent City and grabbed a room.

I rolled the bike into the room and took off all my clothes and placed them all into the bath tub to drain. Cranked up the heat and turned the TV on to watch the weather channel. Yikes. Stronger rain was expected for tuesday all over the north and down past the Central Valley almost soaking Los Angeles. This sucked. Wednesday's forecast was for rain only in the north, so I decided to dry out and wait a day for my all Cali SS1K. I watched more bad TV in the next 36 hours then I care to admit, but the time passed and off I went on wednesday morning, The Ides of March.

I topped off the tank and got my start receipt at 0930, then toodled on over to the Battery Point lighthouse that I'd visited during the first leg of the Butt. Unlike when Steve Hobart and I were there, the water was flooded over the low rocks that led to the lighthouse out on a rock escarpment. I laughed remembering how the Sperry's and Rebecca Vaughn caught this bonus at high tide and had to wade out for their picture. Three times. I asked a tourist to snap a polaroid of me and my bike, while I held a local newspaper I bought that morning. I realize that in this polaroid the lighthouse is hard to see. Spare me. It's just behind the trees on the little island.