Cannonball day ten: Oakland, MD to Ocean City, MD

Well, if the previous day started off on the wrong foot for me, then the last day started off as a comedy of errors. I woke up just after 7:00 when Patrick called me to ask if I was awake, which I wasn't - apparently I had the volume turned way down on my cell phone so I didn't hear my alarm go off, and Kieran had left super early, and I went right back to sleep. Well, at least I was awake after Patrick called (thankfully!), although I had missed the riders' meeting by then. I had to forego a shower and quickly threw my things together, so that I could load my gear on the truck. Not only was I running late, but many people were leaving early, because the plan was to meet at the ferry across the Potomac by 11:00 am, including Rolf in the support truck, who wanted to hit the road by 7:30.

I went back to my room to gather the rest of my things, load up the bike, and get gas. However, I was famished and I had to have something to eat before heading out, so I decided to just stop at McDonald's for something quick. I wolfed down a Bacon Egg & Cheese Biscuit and an Egg McMuffin, while sucking down a Rockstar, then made a quick pitstop, before going on my way. I was actually on the road by 8:00 am for the first time in the trip, but by then everyone else had split, so I was still picking up the rear. It just seemed like that was bound to be my lot for the trip, but I still had just enough time to make it to the ferry in time, as long as I kept up a good pace.

In my haste to leave, I had left my jacket liner in my bag, which was on the support truck, and the early Maryland morning was filled with chilly foggy air, around 50 degrees, so the start of my ride was exceptionally uncomfortable. It stayed that way after I crossed over into the West Virginia panhandle and it just did not seem to want to warm up at all. Not wanting to lose time and risk missing the ferry, I kept riding with my lightweight gloves and kept putting my hands in front of the radiator grilles to warm them up, rather than stop and swap them out for my cold weather gloves which were under the seat. I figured if maybe I came to a stoplight, a construction zone, or some other roadblock, that might give me an opportunity to swap my gloves, so I pressed on. Along the way, I saw Rob broken down by the side of the road so I slowed down, but he gave me the thumbs up to keep going, so I did. His bike conked out with irreparable mechanical problems, which is so unfortunate, so close to the end of the Cannonball. Little did I know that my ride would come to a very abrupt halt very soon as well.

About 70 miles into the trip, roughly 10 miles before I was going to cross the Virginia state line, I felt something let go on my bike and the motor stopped unnervingly suddenly. My first thought was the memory of seizing my P200 on the last Cannonball, although I quickly recognized that this was a much less likely scenario with the water cooled 4-stroke motor of the GTS. I coasted to a stop at a conveniently located vacant driveway and tried to figure out what happened. When I hit the starter button, the motor wouldn't turn at all, and I only heard the clicking of the starter solenoid, so something was definitely wrong. I immediately called Rolf, but by that point he was nearly 100 miles ahead of me near Gaithersburg, MD and it was going to be a while before he would be able to make it all the way back to where I was, just west of Capon Bridge, WV. A dreadful sinking feeling began to set in, that my bike might not make it any further than that spot, and that my journey might have reached a premature end. To try to help alleviate my fears, I decided to check out the bike and looked inside the belt cover. I saw a whole bunch of ragged strands around the variator, and immediately I knew that the belt had shredded itself. This was actually a good sign, because I had a spare belt in Rolf's truck, from when my Polini variator had self-destructed earlier in the trip. It was used and worn, but hopefully it would be good enough to get me the rest of the way, so I could finish the last leg of the Cannonball on two wheels. I called Rolf back to let him know, and luckily he had a variator tool in the truck as well, so it was just a matter of time before I could get moving again.

While waiting for Rolf, I took off the belt cover to see what I could do in the meantime. Inside, I found a nasty snarl of shredded belt cords and rubber pieces, which had wrapped themselves around the variator. Thankfully it hadn't wedged itself between the clutch and the case, which would have locked up my rear wheel - that has happened to other people before and is equally as dangerous as a hard seize on a two-stroke. However, the resulting mess was quite a chore to clean up, several cords had gotten wrapped inside the clutch, which were very difficult to remove, although I was able to pull out most of the pieces, which allowed the clutch to move freely again. The variator, on the other hand, was locked up tight with the belt wedged between it and the case, so there was no way I could free it up and clean it out, without the tool to remove the variator altogether. I continued cleaning out bits and dust from the belt case as best I could, in order to make the best use of my time spend waiting for Rolf to arrive.

Eventually Rolf got there and we jumped into action, to make quick work of the repairs on my bike. I wasn't watching the clock, but I think we removed the variator, cleaned it out, reinstalled the variator and clutch with the new belt and got the cover bolted back on within about half an hour, and I was back on the road once again. Whew! I hadn't missed a mile of the trip so far, and I sure didn't want to break that streak on the last day. Everything moved along smoothly and Rolf and I got to the ferry just fine. We had quite a line of cars in front of us, so we had to wait for one ferry trip before we could catch a ride across the river, but thankfully it didn't take too long. The ferry ride was nice, although I was rather offended by the Confederate flag that was flying on the other side of the river. Didn't they lose that war almost 150 years ago? Last I checked there was still one United States of America, wasn't there? Anyway, after we crossed to the other side and continued down Whites Ferry Road, until we ran into some kind of art festival. This posed a problem, because the route I had plotted ran right through where the festival was going on, and the "detour" sign they put up only routed traffic away from the festival and didn't put us back on White's Ferry Road afterward. That was the last thing we needed, while trying to catch up to the rest of the group!

We meandered eastward and eventually wound up on River Road, which led us toward Washington DC. However, Rolf was getting really worn out, since he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, and I felt like I needed a break myself, so we stopped for a bite to eat at a "Chicken Out Rotisserie". The food was good, but the inattentiveness of the staff just made me really annoyed, by putting onions on my sandwich after I specifically told them no onions, then when they remade it, they apparently had run out of bacon, but didn't bother to even mention it to me. Whatever! I was just completely fed up at that point and just gave up about caring. We gassed up and decided that it was too late to meet up with everyone at Vespa Washington, so we opted to just take the beltway around DC, to pick up Highway 50 again and get in at a reasonable hour, rather than follow the official route, which would have taken us on a parade through the heart of Washington DC on a Saturday afternoon.

Aside from the obligatory jackasses on the road, we made it through the beltway ok and crossed over the Bay Bridge to the Maryland Eastern Shore, following Highway 50 to its eastern end in Ocean City. It was quite a relief, I finally felt like I was on the home stretch, even though there were still more than 100 miles left to go. However, shortly thereafter, Rolf got a call from Oz, who had broken down just east of there. We stopped and I agreed to press on while Rolf drove to meet Oz, since I felt pretty confident that my bike would be able to make it the rest of the way. I waved goodbye to Rolf as he turned left onto Highway 404, and I continued down Highway 50. Despite the fact that I was feeling fairly weary from the day's tribulations, the rest of the ride went smoothly. I took great pleasure in counting down the miles to Ocean City... 50... 36... 20... 10... I soon saw more and more signs of civilization and beach sprawl, which made my very excited. Making the left to leave Highway 50 for the last time and turn onto Highway 528 North got my adrenaline going and I hightailed it up Baltimore Ave, counting up the street numbers to the Days Inn at 22nd St. I whipped out my camera and snapped a picture as soon as I spotted it and I felt such a feeling of accomplishment and relief to have made it there. Although it hadn't felt like the Cannonball was nearly over just a day earlier, it sure felt that way once I got there. A lot can happen in one day of the Cannonball, and it wouldn't be the same if it didn't.

All in all, I had a great ride, but this year's Cannonball was overshadowed by Jim's spill in Utah, which left him more seriously injured than we had known. Thankfully, he is on the mend and and we've been keeping him in our thoughts to make a full and speedy recovery. I really wish he hadn't been hurt and that he could have ridden with us the whole way, I know he would have enjoyed it immensely. We missed you Jim and we all hope you'll be riding again soon!

Now that the Cannonball is over, I'll have some work to do, in order to pay off the bills from this adventure. I have a lot of stuff I need to list on eBay, plus a scooter to sell, or maybe even two, we'll see. Any donations would be gladly accepted too, of course! ;) In any event though, the Cannonball was an amazing, frightening, wonderful, awful, breathtaking, excruciating and eternally memorable event, which was quite the experience, quite unlike just about anything else. So, to answer the question, "why do you ride the Cannonball?", I'd say it's because it's something that can be done, although very few ever do it, so it's worth it to me, to be one of those few. This time I completed every single one of the 3400+ miles, through thick and thin, and it was worth it all. Call me crazy, but I'm looking forward to the next one already! :D