My eyes popped awake as they filled with the view of a guardrail. I softly said, “Oh, my God,” to the inside of my helmet as my veins bulged with a quart of adrenaline. I saw myself hurtling headlong over the handlebars into the grill of an oncoming Peterbilt, but instant-on survival instinct took over instead. The Very Temporary Incredible Hulk counter-steered the bike violently, and I bounced off the guardrail with one of my BMW’s horizontal cylinders.
Putting my foot back down on the scraped footpeg, I had no idea where I was. The oncoming Peterbilt’ s brother may have just materialized to my right, the same place that the wobbling, not-yet-under control motorcycle was headed for. My body bloated with adrenaline again, trying to steer the unsteerable while looking across the lanes of highway traffic.
Fortunately, there was only an old Fairmont straddling the lines. . The elderly couple inside were staring at me wild-eyed, wondering what the heck they had just swerved to avoid. After regaining control, I tried to signal an apology. But, they fell back – safely out of the highway combat zone – and only approached after another 15 minutes, passing by quickly and cautiously.
Needless to say, I lucked out big time. It was the last day of a trip that had taken me and my father 10,600 miles from Maryland to Alaska, and we were heading back. In Kansas we still had another 1,000 to go.
“What say we try to do a thousand miler?”
“Sure! We’ll do a motorcycle rite of passage and join the 1000 Miler Club.”
Sure. Sounded real good at the time, but I have never been more miserable: the droning of the bike, the lulling wind, the physical tiredness that just kept getting worse. They are all fine in moderation, but I started. fighting to stay awake when we were in Pennsylvania and the Sun had come up for a second time in my “day.” Experience has taught me well, but it is experience that could have been far worse.
Thousand miler or no thousand miler, I should have shacked up in a hotel at the first signs of nodding off. But, I didn’t. The Holy Grail that really didn’t mean squat kept pushing me on.
After the fun with guardrail kissing, I was lit up with adrenaline and kept on rolling. My father hadn’t seen a thing since he was up ahead. I told him what happened the next time we stopped to rest, and he slowly said, “What a nightmare,” realizing all the possibilities of ending an amazing trip with my body sprawled beside the road. The smartest suggestion of the day came up: “Let’s stop right now.”
And that is my strong recommendation to everyone. The adrenaline goes away, but the tiredness does not.
But, I finally convinced him that I was much better. And I wanted to click off that thousand.
My father put on his thinking cap and came up with some effective ideas to keep me upright. I would recommend them to anyone who becomes groggy on a motorcycle and absolutely needs to be wherever they are going. Again, the first line of defense is real sleep, which has no artificial substitutes.
1) The obvious one is caffeine. It can be helpful for some people, but remember that it is not a wonder drug. Its pick-me-up, which may be minimal, can let you down after a fairly short time.
2) Take frequent rest stops, even if just for two minutes at a time to stretch your legs and hop back on. Do not fool yourself by shaking off a brief nod of drowsiness and then continuing. Your body is subtly yelling something at you.
3) A fifteen minute nap on the grass beside a 7-11 can do wonders. If you have an electronic watch, just set the alarm. Your body will thank you. However, some people have told me that a quick nap actually leaves them only yearning for more. You should decide on that from experience.
4} Take a towel, T-shirt, or anything else made of cotton and drench it wet with water. Wrap it in the form of a neck brace between your helmet and jacket. The airflow will evaporate the water and cool your head down considerably; this helped me stay alert. Just remember to frequently wet it down in the sink of a restaurant, gas station, or wherever else you make a rest stop.
5) Play mental games, and be consistent with them. Read and understand every billboard that you pass, trying to get every word on each one. Check out the people in all the cars around you; eye contact takes away some of the solitude of being on a motorcycle. Do not, however, rely on something repetitive. Ticking off mileage markers or reading only license plate numbers can have the same effect as counting sheep.
6) If traffic is light, and there are at least two lanes in your direction, and you are travelling with a companion, try this: play leapfrog. Use the right lane as your baseline and. have the person in back slowly accelerate around the lead person by using the left lane. You only need to do it once every few minutes, but the concentration required to watch for passing traffic and maintain a tempo can keep your brain in gear on those long stretches of monotonous highway.
Now that I have my booby prize (it took us 1,093 miles on the final leg to get home), I realize how relatively unimportant it is. Instead, common sense has gained my respect.