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SPRING 2018 ISSUE 01 / VOL . 03
Exhaust Note
BY GREG RICE
LIFE DOESN ’ T SLOW DOWN until I hit the road . When I embark on a long-distance ride , I leave all of life ’ s hectic , fast-paced issues behind and embrace the rhythm of the road . Chasing the painted line on the right side of the road for mile after mile gives me a case of “ white line fever ,” a healthy condition that keeps me sane .
My long-distance riding started back in 1970s , when a motorcycle was my primary mode of transportation . I was in the military and did not have enough money for a car , so a motorcycle was a great way to get from here to there on the cheap . Riding around town eventually led to traveling by motorcycle , which soon led to long-distance touring .
Not having much money meant I couldn ’ t afford a hotel when out touring , so I learned to ride straight through to my destination . Long-distance riding suited me , and I made trips in the late ’ 70s from Great Lakes Naval Base near Chicago to Miami , Florida , to Bike Week in Daytona and to the original Americade Rally in Ruidoso , New Mexico . Back then I rode a Kawasaki KZ650 with a National Cycle windshield , with my duffel bag and a sleeping strapped to the sissybar and a pup tent strapped to the front of the fork . It felt great to be on the road back then , but I preferred sleeping in beds rather than on the ground . That ’ s when I got the bug for long-distance riding and it never went away .
White Line Fever
In 2000 , I learned about the Iron Butt Association ( IBA ), and in 2002 I completed my first IBA ride , a SaddleSore 2000 — at least 2,000 miles in less than 48 hours . I did it on a Kawasaki Nomad 1500 Fi cruiser , and it was a hell of a ride with all types of weather , including rain of biblical proportions . I ’ ve been involved with the IBA community ever