Ride Diary, Tobacco Road Rally 2002

Not unlike eating whole pints of Ben and Jerry's in one sitting, this could be habit forming. Coming in next to last, that is. Just like the Palmetto Ramble back in the spring. This year's running of the 12-hour Tobacco Road Rally would be my second endurance rally.

My friend Tom mentioned this rally some time ago. As usual, I hemmed and hawed until the last possible second and decided to throw my hat in the ring. For the record, I have a 1995 VFR750, set up in full touring mode with Givi cases, a ScottOiler, throttle lock, eTrex GPS and a few other trinkets. It also has a Micron slip-on exhaust and aftermarket suspension. Great for touring the country, and tearing up the back roads, but 12 hours in the saddle on three hours sleep whilst hunting for obscure locations? Hmm. Or maybe it's the rider after all. I do like to put in the miles, when my wife lets me out of the house. And she lets me out a lot. I've hit 25 states this year. OK, on with the sordid tale.

On Friday I scooted out of the office about 12:15 and arrived in Garner, NC about 4:30 and immediately went on the odometer check loop, which included the World's Most Impossible Left Turn. No signal, lots of oncoming cars. Perhaps our Rallymaster's whimsy at work already? A portent of things to come?

Anyway, we got our rally books, circled the bonuses on the map and then Tom and I retired to the Cracker Barrel to plot strategy. The bonuses were conveniently divided into Eastern and Western zones, with a twist: a tripling of your highest bonus for getting a bonus in both zones. Problem was: the Eastern and Western zones were 200 miles apart at the closest points.

Tom did his homework (left), but I fussed and fiddled with the map and still didn't have a firm plan before hitting the sack. So, consequently, I slipped into a fitful and tortured sleep full of portents of missed ferries, mountain roads chockablock with leaf-peeping morons, hours and hours on the soporific slab of I-40, daisy-pickers clogging the roads at the shore, etc. Tentatively, I had planned to hit the mountains, but I got up at 4:30 and ditched that, in favor of a more leisurely and touristic route to the East, what I called my NFF Route. No -- Ferries. The middle 'F' rhymes with trucking. Somehow I had got it into my fevered brain that I needed to hit five bonus locations to finish, (this turned out to be erroneous) so my first stop would be Speed, NC, and its measly ten points, followed by several more worthwhile places on the shore north and south of Nags Head. Not a winner, probably, unless the Western half of the state seceded and put up road blocks fortified with shotgun-wielding locals, but enough to fill my day and get back to Tobacco Road HQ at Garner in plenty of time with a respectable score. Besides, I'd never been to that part of NC on a bike, so what the heck. My number one thought was: no matter how miserable my score, it's better than a DNF (Did Not Finish).

And we're off at 0530. I decided to collect the extra 750 points and not join the early-birds at 0400. The trip got off to a hair-raising start. A few miles from the hotel, one of Bambi's kinfolk almost brought the trip to a sudden and dramatic end in an explosion of Viffer-plastic and deer entrails followed by asphalt surfing. But, he, she (our encounter was so fleeting) bounded off at just the right second. I didn't see more the back half of the deer, it jumped in front of me that quickly. That certainly cleared my head. The rest of the trip to Speed was less eventful. At Speed (above) off the bike in less than 2 minutes and ready to head east. That's when I began to adjust my plans a little. Nothing like having two hours on the bike to think.

At this point, I decided to abandon the NFF strategy and go for the Big Kahuna, Ocracoke Lighthouse's mammoth 5500 points, the biggest single bonus of the Rally. There's a reason for that: it requires two ferry rides. For it to work I had to catch the 11 o'clock Hatteras ferry and the 12:30 Ocracoke-Swan Quarter Ferry. So I collected my shore bonuses. I was questioned by the Park Rangers at Hatteras (left), who were concerned about me and the bike and got to the ferry about 10:40. Bikes to the front. Sweet. There I met a fellow rally rider from Northern Va., whose name I have already blanked, and a couple of 'Wingers and their wives out for a weekend spin.

So, off to Ocracoke Island and a line of butt-slow cagers. Just how many cages can there be on this island that has no mainland bridges?? We got the end of the island and the lighthouse is clearly visible coming into town. Our Rallymaster cheekily remarked in the book, "if you can't find the lighthouse you might consider another hobby," or words to that effect. Ha ha. You can see the damn thing from way outside town, but get in town amongst the buildings and it disappears from view. Bugger. Our task was to find a view of the lighthouse, so as to photograph it with our rally flags. So some sniffing around the back lanes was required. We finally found the right shot, nailed it and zipped over to the ferry dock. The ticket seller asked, "Are you a NC resident?" Thoughts race through my hunger-addled brain. Do in-staters get first dibs on spots? We will be let on? Should I lie? Would lying constitute a breach of state law that we had been sternly advised against doing? Turns out it had only to do with the fare. Whew. We made the ferry and settled in for a two and a half hour voyage across Pamlico Sound.

The ferry was very relaxing and both of us caught some sleep at the luxurious accommodations of the on-board Ironbutt Motel. There was one worrisome aspect though, the trip was taking longer than the advertised 150 minutes. It was close to three hours in fact. The ferry must be running against the tide. Those missing twenty minutes were golden. My goal now was to avoid the dreaded DNF. My companion stopped for gas, but I pressed on. The trip back to Garner was, how shall I put it, done at a persistent pace, with one 90-second gas stop. Pay at the Pump is a godsend.

I rolled into the Woman's Club finish point at 17:53, earning a big juicy 4600-point slice of humble pie for being 23 minutes late. And, like a rookie pilot making his first carrier landing, I missed the club on the first pass despite frantic waving from our esteemed Rallymaster and had to make another pass. But, I met my late in the day goal and missed being time-barred by a mere 7 minutes. Still, Ocracoke got me 5500 points, more than I lost for being late, so it was still worth throwing caution to the winds, scrapping my conservative route and going for it. I put in 455 miles, while the top finishers put in more than 700. Spending more than a quarter of the Rally zooming along at 10 knots on the state's ferry boats will do that.

Disappointing finish aside, I could think of much worse ways to spend a Saturday and I enjoyed touring through a big swath of the Tarheel State and you couldn't ask for better weather and scenery. Thanks to all who organized the event. Well done! And congratulations to Tom, who did very well, pulling down 5th place. Proper planning, persistence and getting up at 3:30 pays off I guess.