The next day, to be considered our finale day of the trip, became the longest and most grueling ride of the entire journey. We fired up the engines at 10:20 Saturday morning, and occasionally swapped our bikes throughout the day. Our straight through mileage did not end until rolling over the home grass at 12:30 the next afternoon. If I learned from experience, I would learn this: never again ride over 24 hours straight and all through the night.
This masochistic plan was not a problem until around midnight. The lulling sensation of the motorcycle worked in synergy with my physical tiredness. The result was a Hellish chain of hours feeling miserable and trying hard to stay awake. I was not always successful, and later felt fortunate to be home unhurt. There were far too many nods of the head.
Then the dreaded event finally happened: I went to sleep while riding a motorcycle on a highway. The rough gravel of the road’s edge woke me up. I said “Oh my God” to my helmet as I realized I was about to crash into a guardrail at full highway speed. A very fast counter-steer swerve, powered by instant-on adrenaline, let me get away with tucking my leg close to the gas tank and bouncing off the guardrail sideways with the projecting cylinders of the BMW’s twin engine. The motorcycle wobbled and bucked violently, but I managed to stay upright.
My brain then told me I was moving back into traffic four lanes over from where I last enjoyed consciousness. I didn’t know what was there and what I might run back into. A fast over-the-shoulder glance showed a blue car straddling the dashed lines, which was probably a result of avoiding the drifting, wobbling two wheeled maniac. A bug-eyed elderly couple stared at me in fright, incredulous at what just happened directly in front of them across the highway. The driving husband let off the gas completely and drifted back out of sight into the distance behind, never to be seen again. I wanted to wave an apology, but they just wanted to avoid me completely.
That certainly kept me awake until the next rest stop. Dad had not seen any of this since he was in front. After telling him about my acrobatic act, fatherly concern immediately took over. We were so close to home, I finally convinced him to continue on. He proposed different solutions which all worked to get me home: a nap at a 7-11, a cold water drenched towel around my neck, and gradually alternating movement of safe leapfrog positions as we cruised down the highway.
Quite a scary end to a great trip, but an educational experience nonetheless. The ramifications of my bold fighting against fatigue at different times during the journey finally caught up with me, convincing me to treat it with far more respect in the future. There were other journeys to be experienced.