Date: Fri, 15 Sep 2000 09:45:54 -0400
From: Phil Ross
To: SABMAG
Subject: Rally this weekend
Please join me in wishing Katherine Becker and Dan Pierce success and safety in the Glow in the Dark Rally this weekend in Chicago.
--
Cheers--Phil
Date: Fri, 15 Sep 2000 09:21:06 -0500
From: Greg Terpin
To: SABMAG
Subject: Re: Rally this weekend
On Fri, 15 Sep 2000, Phil Ross wrote:
> Please join me in wishing Katherine Becker and Dan Pierce success and
> safety in the Glow in the Dark Rally this weekend in Chicago.
Regarding this rally... there will be a 0800 departure from the Red Roof Inn parking lot in Willowbrook this Sat. It's supposed to end 24 hours later (also at 0800) at the same place. I sent a note out to the Chicago area list that Ron Rosensweet maintains... but if anyone else wants to "hang-out" at the start/finish... just show up. We can always do coffee/donuts/BS/ride afterwards.
The Red Roof Inn in Willowbrook can be seen from I-55 and RTE 83. Look towards the NW quadrant and you'll see it.
Greg
I had been having a very bad week. As usual, too many things to do and not enough round-to-its. By Friday morning I still hadn't changed my oil or packed or anything, and I didn't have a room reserved. Michael, who had originally planned to travel with me, had decided not to go. I decided to stay home with him, and let Cindi put a big DNS next to my name on her list. These messages made me change my mind. Sabmag has become my virtual hometown, and I couldn't let them down. If Greg was putting together a cheering section, the least I could do was be there. Besides, I'd already put in for Friday as a vacation day; might as well make the most of it.
I dragged my lazy butt out of bed sometime around 10am, and somehow managed to push myself through changing the oil and throwing some stuff in my luggage. I was very inefficient.
Slab, slab. Stopped for a late lunch in Marshall. Slab, slab, slab. Stopped at a Kmart just before the Indiana border and got some more polaroid film, the Pez we'd been told to bring, some batteries for my CD player, and waited out a short rain squall. Slab, slab. For the first time ever, I didn't run into any traffic jams in the Chicago 'burbs. I got to the hotel around dusk. There were riders in the lot; this must be the place. Gadget Dan was the first one across the parking lot to greet me. I asked if he had found a roomie or did he still need one? He said he hadn't found any, but he'd be fine because... I cut him off mid-sentence and invited myself to split his room. He said OK.
I got my Pez and my paperwork, and went up to check in with the rally volunteers. Cindi was nowhere to be seen; apparently she'd had to rush off to pick someone or something up. I wandered back down to the parking lot and checked out the other riders and the bikes. Everyone was quite friendly, and Dan pointed out that there was even another sabmag entered, a V45 Magna piloted by another guy named Dan.
Cindi returned, and said it was time for the odometer check, that people should follow her. She got on her Savage and roared out of the lot while half the people there hadn't even gotten their helmets on. I think she was just too stressed out and nervous to notice this. Those of us who were ready followed, and the rest were left behind.
So it was that I ended up riding with a pack of LDRiders. Very odd; they usually travel alone. They were all very good riders. There's something thrilling about short group rides like that. I enjoyed it immensely, so much so that when we returned to face the folks who'd been left behind, I volunteered to take the circuit again and lead those who didn't make it the first time. Cindi gave me a look of pure gratitude. I was glad to be able to help out a bit, and I enjoyed riding the route the second time, too.
After the second round of mileage check, Dan, Thane, and I went to Wendy's and got some food, and came back to learn that Cindi had distributed lists of bonus cities, and everyone had disappeared to do their homework. Dan collected copies for us both, and we went back to the room and ate while looking at maps, then went to bed.
6am arrived way too soon, even though at home it was really 7am. I managed to get myself together and down to the parking lot for the 6:30am rider's meeting, where Cindi handed out the bonus listings and told us to come back at 7:30. I took my bonus list and my maps to the Denny's on the corner, and staked out a large table. I don't usually like to eat that early, but I figured I'd be better off if I forced myself to have a solid breakfast before the clock started ticking.
Cindi did a great job putting together bonii. There were two completely separate rallies to choose from, and riders had to pick just one. Theme Parks was a ride around Lake Michigan. Glow in the Dark had a much shorter base route and a lot more bonii. I've done enough Saddlesores, and for me, the fun part of rallies is bonus hunting, not just piling on miles. I decided to do Glow in the Dark.
There are seven commercial nuclear power plants in Illinois. The GitD base route required us to visit them all. They were worth 200 points apiece, and for each one we missed we would lose 1/7 of our total score.
There was one bonus location that increased the value of each power plant we visited after that bonus, by 100 points, in Galena IL.
There was a list of items that were illuminated at certain times, and were worth more points if visited during those times. The big item on this list was a 3600 point bonus for visiting the Buckingham Fountain in downtown Chicago; this fountain was only going to be lit from 9pm to 11pm.
There was a list of ordinary bonus locations that could be gotten at any time.
Finally, there was a list of bonii that were not in any particular location. Some of these were things we might find as we rode, like a Continental Divide marker or a construction flag person. Others were items we could buy and carry to the finish, like a helium balloon or a tomato. I noted that toll receipts would be worth a point for every penny spent on tolls. I admired Cindi's cleverness; those tollways are awful and that bonus probably short-circuited a lot of the whining she might otherwise have had to endure.
I ate my food while color coding the locations on my map. A pink circle for a required location. Green circles for other bonus locations. A green circle with a pink dot in it for bonus locations that were worth more when lit. As I worked, a trend started to emerge. The power plants were all in the northern half of Illinois, spread at some distance from Chicago. Many of the bonii that were worth more when lit, were in the Chicago metro area.
I was a little suspicious of the Buckingham Fountain bonus. At 3600 points, it was worth far more than any other bonus except Hyder, Alaska, and Hyder was obviously not doable. I wondered if the fountain was a sucker bonus? Would it be a traffic nightmare, getting into downtown Chicago and taking the picture during that two hour window? I thought about it and decided that even if it was, it was worth trying for. I made a mental note to find out from Cindi if I had to take my bike there. I seemed to recall Chicago had some kind of subway / elevated rail system, and I'm sure some locals would be able to tell me whether that might be a good way to get there. Worst case scenario, it could cost me two hours on public transit; it would still be worth it.
I decided that I would pick up all the power plants during the day, make sure I was back to Chicago plenty early enough to pick up the huge Buckingham Fountain bonus, and spend my night collecting the Chicago area boni. I'd pick up the shopping bonii last; I'd seen several 24 hour stores while we were calibrating odometers the night before. I decided to not stop for any construction flagmen unless it was safe; I knew I'd find construction zones out on the freeways, but for 100 points each it wasn't worth the danger.
I finished my food and hurried back. During my absence, the Chicago area sabmaggots had arrived. I learned that Dan, the V45 Magna rider, had suffered the first mechanical failure of the day; his speedo cable had gone south, and Greg Terpin had gone home to get one for him so he could stay in the rally. Some of the others who were there looked at the bonus lists with me, and I asked them what they knew about Continental Divide signs, but they didn't know of any. I'd seen Cindi's partner, Mary, laughing about that one, and I could tell that it did exist and was someplace well within range. I made a mental note to continue thinking about it.
Cindi answered more questions, and passed out the rally flags, and at 8am we were free to go. People trickled out of the lot, one at a time. At 8:30 I was still working on my plan. The sabmaggots seemed a little startled that there hadn't been a mass start, but being the first out isn't that useful. Instead, the good strategist takes a little extra time at the beginning to choose a clever route.
A little after 8:30 I rolled out of the motel parking lot. First stop, the gas station on the corner. I should have gotten gas the night before, but I'd never gotten it done. Oh well.
Rather than make an extra trip across Chicago to start with the northernmost power plant, I headed south. There were three plants very close together, about 40 miles south of the motel, and I would visit them first, on my way to the southernmost plant, in Clinton, about 120 miles away. I had already decided not to travel any farther south than Clinton. The thousand points for getting the St Louis Arch when it was lit, was not enough of a lure.
At the very first plant, Des Plaines, I had trouble with Cindi's directions. I was using the overhead power lines as my guide when I passed another rider coming the other way, and decided either I was going the right way or we were both lost. I followed the fence until I found the gate. At the gate there were half a dozen signs. I re-read the instructions. They didn't say what the sign needed to say on it. I picked one that looked like it would show up well in a photo, put up my rally flag next to it, and took the picture. I wrote the name of the plant, the time, and the mileage on the photo, just in case.
As I rode away from the plant, I passed Gadget Dan coming the other way. He stopped and expressed his confusion, and I directed him back to where I had been. I briefly considered waiting for him, but decided we'd both be more efficient rallyists if I didn't. So I went on.
Second plant, Braidwood. After getting lost in downtown Braidwood, I started cursing the State of Illinois, for having numbered roads and not marking them very well. This turned into a recurring theme in my brain. Why can't they be more like Ohio, and actually put up signs saying which way the numbered routes turn at each intersection? Grumble. Once again, I passed Gadget Dan as I was leaving the plant.
Next plant, La Salle, was outside of Seneca IL. Seneca was about twice as far away if I took the freeway, as it would be on the secondary roads. The freeway would probably still be faster, but I decided to take the secondary roads. Maybe I'd find a construction zone in a quieter spot, and get a picture of a flagman someplace safe. I could also watch for a motorcycle shop; it seemed to me that a bike shop would be a good place to find friendly locals who might know where to find continental divide signs, five legged frogs, and other such things.
Big mistake. After an hour of being lost (I did find some nice twisty roads), a half hour of struggling to escape talkative retirees at a motorcycle shop, and slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting female soldiers that came leaping out of the woods like deer to cross the road in front of me, I finally found the La Salle plant. It was almost noon.
These were the three closest plants, hardly any distance away at all, and I had used up a third of my time. Just the drive time to reach the more distant ones would use up all the time before I wanted to be back in Chicago for the fountain bonus, and the time spent finding the things would make me late to the fountain.
Even though missing a plant would cost 1/7 of my total score, that fountain was more valuable. I evaluated the remaining five plants and the bonus locations near them. The Clinton plant was the farthest from everything else, and didn't have anything near it. It would cost me three hours to get. I ruthlessly struck it from my list, and resolved to think no more about it.
With the Clinton plant off my list, I could focus on making the most of the other things. Next stop, Ottawa (home of the Radium Girls), to get a gas receipt, for 500 points. Next, Starved Rock State park, for even more points. The road from Ottawa to Starved Rock was beautiful!
Out onto I-80 west, on my way to the Cordova power plant. I decided I'd traveled I-80 entirely too many times this summer; this was my fourth trip over this stretch of road, and it was dull. I enjoyed Route 84 north along the Mississippi River, even though it was slow. I found the power plant without any trouble.
Another decision point. There was a bonus in Savanna, and another in Galena. It would be a nice ride north along the river on Route 84, but if it was as slow to the north as it had been to the south, that would be bad. I'm familiar with the tendency of rallyists to be lured just a little farther, just a little farther... It was already late afternoon, and I had two power plants and the whole width of Illinois to travel. I decided to give those two a miss.
I found a road that cut the corner and took me over to I-88 east. I paid my first toll just before I left the freeway at Dixon (hometown of Ronald Reagan). Too bad they had no manual lanes and I couldn't get a receipt. In Dixon I had another chance to grind my teeth in annoyance about Illinois' inability to put up proper road signs, but I still managed to find Route 2, which turned out to be another pretty road. I followed the signs to Lowden State Park, and stopped to get my photo of the statue of Black Hawk. While I was waiting for the photo to come up, a couple stopped to say hello, and told me that they'd seen lots of other riders from the rally, much earlier in the day, and did I think I was running late? I fought off a brief flutter of nervousness, and assured the couple that the rallyists were allowed to visit the locations in any order, and that the others probably had chosen a different order.
Back out on the road, I easily spotted the next power plant, Byron. This was the first plant I'd visited all day that looked like a proper nuclear plant, with cooling towers that could be seen for miles. Once I saw it, it took me fifteen minutes to find a road that led there, but I never for a minute feared I wouldn't be able to find it.
When I finally got to the gates, I saw the first other rallyists I'd seen in hours.
There was a couple on a Triumph, with no helmets. They seemed to be having a good time, but they told me this was only the second power plant they'd visited, and that they'd decided this sport was a little more intense than they'd expected. They said they'd met Thane Silliker a little while earlier, but he hadn't had time to chat with them, that he was a "man on a mission" and he had already collected a huge number of bonii. They were laughing and shaking their heads at this. They themselves had decided they'd get dinner in Oregon IL, and I got the impression that they had decided to go home after that.
The Moto Guzzi rider was more like me. Still in the running to finish decently, but not expecting to win and not stressing himself out. He held my flag so I could take the picture, and spoke of how he'd decided his next purchase needed to be a tank bag with a map case; apparently he was having to stop very frequently to get his map out and look at it. I suggested that he could also write directions on his windshield with dry erase markers, that this was another way he might keep those cues available while riding, and he could probably pick some up at a store along the route.
He left, and as soon as my photo finished coming up, I left too. I found my way over to I-39, and north to the I-90 tollway. Traffic was flying on that tollway!!! I made very good time, but every time I stopped to pay a toll, I had to pass the same slow RVs and trucks again. I passed two cruisers just before the first toll and waved hello. They went through the booth next to me and since they didn't have to get receipts they were faster leaving. I passed them and waved hello again. At the next toll, they ended up right behind me, and the toll collector asked if I was getting tolls for all three bikes? I thought, what the heck? I said OK, but I need a receipt for mine. She said she's have to give me three receipts. I said I just needed one. She looked confused, but somehow the transaction was accomplished. I laughed to myself as a pulled away, at the surprise those riders would be feeling as the toll collector waved them through. For some reason I was inordinately pleased at the thought. Then it occurred to me that they might think they should reciprocate at the next toll, and then how would I get my receipt? Eek! There was only one solution. I whacked it, and the cruisers disappeared in my rearviews.
The last power plant was in Zion, by Lake Michigan right by the Wisconsin border. There was no direct freeway route there. Even so, the tollways should be faster than the secondary roads, and I could get bonus points for the receipts. I followed I-90 all the way to I-94. The traffic went faster and faster, the closer I got to Chicago. At one point I passed a place where five young guys on sportbikes had stopped on the left shoulder. I couldn't see any reason for them to be there, but I figured that even if one of them was broken down, I didn't need to stop because he already had friends to help. About ten miles farther on, they passed me, at a speed differential that had to be close to 50mph. Each taking a slightly different path, they zipped in and out of traffic quite recklessly, and were out of sight in less than a minute. I shook my head and continued on at a speed comparable to the traffic around me, which was still well over the speed limit. I feared I'd see them again on the roadside, as accident victims or pulled over by the cops, but I never did.
It got dark while I was on I-94, and I stopped to change my face shield. Half past seven. I was right on schedule.
I left the tollway at Route 173. My directions said to take Route 173 to Shiloh Blvd, where I should turn east to get to the power plant. Route 173 ran east-west. Another bad set of directions. Oh well. I figured it had to be near the lake, and if I kept going east I'd get to the lake eventually. Maybe by then I'd be able to see it. I started seeing old testament names on the cross streets, and figured that was a good sign. Zion didn't look like the greatest neighborhood; it was a run down industrial looking town. Old empty looking buildings, an adult video store, a few places with bars on the windows. Route 173 crossed a major thoroughfare and fizzled in a subdivision. I turned right when the road ended, and cruised down the residential street thinking I'd have to go back to the main drag and find someone to ask for directions.
Then I spotted two women walking a small dog. I decided to ask them. It was dark, I was on a bike, and I didn't want to scare them. Hmm, how to approach them? I raised my face shield, kept my revs low, coasted up near (but not too near) them, and turned off my engine very quickly. They looked my way and their posture got defensive as they stepped back. As soon as the motor stopped I pitched my voice a little higher so they couldn't possibly miss the fact I was female, and said plaintively, "I'm lost!" They relaxed, and stepped back towards me. After I gave them a brief explanation of the "scavenger hunt" they happily gave me directions to the power plant. I should go just a few blocks farther south to the stop sign, and turn left onto Shiloh.
Shiloh went for a mile or so through an area of low scrub, towards a glass building with neon-lit things in it. It was empty and kind of eerie. I started when my lights picked up a large, white moving object in the trees to my left. It was one of those wind turbines. The whole place gave me the creeps. I came to the open gates of the plant, and there was the sign with the plant's name, just far enough inside that my flash wouldn't illuminate it from outside, even when I aimed my bike's headlight at it as well. Signs on the fence promised dire things if I trespassed. I decided to do this one the way I'd done the first one; I chose a sign on the fence by the gate and photographed it.
Back through Zion, I noticed that the major north-south road was Route 137. I bet Cindi just transposed some numbers, and this was the road she meant in her directions.
Next up, the fountain.
I took the tollway back into Chicago, and aimed for the skyscraper district. Wow, there was lots of traffic, and it was moving very, very fast. Downtown, I stopped and asked a policeman for direction to the fountain. Two blocks up, turn left, then right, it'll be in front of me. OK. I did this, and sure enough, there it was. I was in the middle lane, and all the traffic on my road was being directed to turn right by a whole bunch of traffic cops. As I went around the corner, I noticed a large area across the street that was blocked off by orange cones, and a Harley bagger sitting in it. Must be a rallyist, and none of these cops were moving him on. I went up and around a block, and came back on that side of the street. The traffic all turned left, but I ducked through the cones and pulled up next to the Harley.
I stopped the bike and took off my helmet, and asked the rider if he was in the rally? He told me no, he'd just stopped to wait for his bike to cool. I asked if he though I'd have time to get my photo before the cops moved me on, and he said I could probably stay as long as I liked; the cops weren't paying any attention to us. I looked at the cops, spread out across the street with their whistles, and realized he was right. I took my fountain photo, and waited for the picture to come up. While I was there, Gadget Dan pulled up, and another rider pulled up behind him. Dan had visited a whole bunch of bonus locations I hadn't, but he said he'd missed the Clinton power plant. In his case it had been an accident; he'd had his map folded wrong. He hadn't visited Zion yet either. He was still hoping to do both. I advised him to get Zion and skip Clinton, but when we parted ways he still seemed to think he'd get both.
Out I-290 to Oak Park, to take a picture of a statue in Scoville Park. As I rode away from Scoville Park, I saw another rallyist, the guy with the shiny new Valkyrie. He'd just gotten in a minor fender bender and was in the process of picking up his bike. I stopped, and learned that he'd been looking for the park and spotted it on the left. He turned left from the right lane, and this Lexus had been in the left lane. Fortunately he wasn't hurt and the bike was still quite rideable. The cage driver was practically frothing at the mouth about the damage to his new car, and I was afraid he'd try to start a fistfight. Even though the Valk pilot assured me he was OK and I could go, I really didn't want to leave him. It seemed to me that having two bikers there was a Good Thing; it would make this crazy cager think twice before escalating from verbal abuse to physical violence. Fortunately the police arrived very quickly, before I even finished arguing with the Valk pilot about whether I should stay. Once the cops arrived, I figured they'd take care of things, so I went on.
Next I visited Cermak Plaza in Berwyn and took a picture of the sculpture called Urban Towers. This turned out to be a series of four towers made from printed circuit boards, in the parking lot of a shopping center. There were a bunch of weird sculptures in this parking lot, including a spire with a stack of squashed cars impaled on it, and a thing that looked like a helicopter with antlers. The sculptures were no longer lit, because it was close to midnight and all the stores in the plaza were closed. Urban Towers would have been worth more earlier when it was lit, but it was still worth a few points.
I checked my paperwork to see what was next, and realized I'd missed something in Oak Park; the "Nuclear Free Zone" sign was worth something. It was only a few miles back, so I went back and got it. Oak Park and Berwyn were both very busy; even though it was close to midnight there was a lot of traffic on the roads, and people out and about. The Nuclear Free sign was on a corner by a gas station, and both roads were stop and go they were so busy. I don't know where all those people were going at that time of night.
Back down Route 43 to the Chicago Portage Historic site to photograph another statue. This was another bonus that was worth more when lit. Unfortunately, the statue was behind a locked gate and wasn't lit well enough to be photographed from this far away in the dark. I took four pictures and couldn't get anything but blackness in any of them. Finally I gave up, and wrote the name, mileage, and time on the one that had the best picture of my rally flag.
Next on my list was a cemetery bonus, in Justice, IL, just a few miles away. I decided to skip it. I was fed up with taking photos of things in the dark; why stay up all night if I can't get any photos I think the rallymaster's going to accept? I decided to go back to the start point, choose a store with helium balloons nearby, and get a room if I could; I'd get up early and shop.
The Portage bonus was right by an on ramp to I-55 south. I hopped on this ramp and had my pucker moment for the evening when it tossed me right into a construction zone, and my lights picked up this monster edge trap I was approaching at an angle that was almost parallel! It was at least three inches up, from the ramp to the freeway lane! Yikes! With cars in front and behind, and only a split second to decide, I took the only open escape route, and dove between the orange barrels into the barricaded construction area. I sat in there for the next ten minutes, until there came a break in traffic that was big enough for me to cross that edge at a better angle and turn right into the freeway lane.
As I rode along I-55, I thought about what else I might do to collect more points. I actually had enough time to visit that last power plant if I wanted to; I calculated it would take four hours, and I had seven hours before I had to be back at the start. I thought about the edge trap incident I'd just gone through, and how badly Illinois marks their roads, and decided I just didn't want to. I was too tired, and besides, from what I'd learned from other folks I'd met, Thane Silliker was way ahead of me, and if Gadget Dan didn't get time-barred, he'd beat me, and there were no doubt others ahead of me as well. I had enough stuff for a respectable finish; no sense in getting crazy.
I went back to the motel. No sign of life in rally headquarters. No parking places in the lot, no rooms available. I'd have to go on and find a room elsewhere. First, though, I spied out the area, to plan my shopping. A mile up the road, there was a 24 hour grocery, Dominic's. I went inside and checked, and they had a floral department with helium balloons. This would do; I'd come here in the morning and get all the junk at once.
I couldn't find a room anywhere nearby. I ended up going all the way to Joliet, and getting the last room in a rather scary Motel 6 where they made me sign a paper promising I wouldn't do anything illegal, and where there were drunks partying in the parking lot. But the room turned out to be nice; probably the nicest Motel 6 I've seen. I arranged for a 6am wake-up call, opened the drapes so the morning light would wake me if nothing else did, and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
The phone rang at 6am and the person on the other end of the line said something I couldn't interpret. I was very disoriented, and I sat on the edge of the bed trying to figure out where I was and what I was supposed to be doing. I looked out the window and remembered the rally. By 6:20 I'd braided my hair, taken a 30 second shower, dressed, packed, and I was back on the bike. Too bad I'd had to ride so far away just to get this room; it would take an hour to get back to the rally finish.
I had to stop on the way for gas, and at the gas station I got a cold 12 pack of cans of Mountain Dew. The bonus instructions said six cans, cold, but they only had twelve packs of cans, and I didn't want to risk getting bottles when the instructions said cans. They fit easily into one of my side cases.
At 7:30 I was in the grocery store, leaping to grab the string of one of the helium balloons in their floral department. I picked out a large tomato, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant, and took them to the front to pay. The cashier wanted to take my balloon back to the floral department and put more helium in it. I told her I didn't need or want that, but she kept insisting. Finally I agreed to it; it would be quicker than arguing or explaining, and I still had 20 minutes.
Out in the parking lot, I kept a firm grip on the string while I stuffed the other purchases into my side case. I pulled the string down to grab the balloon and it was gone! I looked up and saw it floating merrily away; it had come off the end of the string. Damn, damn, damn! I looked at my clock. Twelve minutes. The hotel was a mile away, three traffic signals, 45mph. I rushed back inside for another balloon. The clerk was very apologetic and said I could have another for free. She made a big deal of getting me one with the same picture that was on the first one, making sure it had plenty of helium, tying the string well, putting tape over it so it would be reinforced, blah blah, blah. The more I insisted that I didn't care about that stuff and tried to hurry her, the nicer she got and the slower she got. I was in agony! Finally I got back outside. Five minutes left. I had planned to tape the balloon to the bike with lots of tape, so it wouldn't flap and get torn, but there was no time for that. I stuffed it in a plastic shopping bag and put the handles over my right arm.
I rode back to the motel as fast as I dared, annoyed to have lost all of my time margin. I wondered what the "gate" would be that Cindi wanted us to pass through. I hoped it wouldn't be anything difficult. I pulled into the motel parking lot, and saw Cindi standing by an orange cone. That cone turned out to be the gate, and I had made it! My clock said 7:58, but Cindi said they'd actually been counting down the seconds when I came in, that there had been less than 30 seconds left. Good thing I didn't miss just one more traffic signal!
I pulled into a parking place, and Rigger came up to get my bonus stuff. Apparently they weren't giving us any time to organize things. I gave him my ziploc bag of photos good and bad, and pulled the wad of tollway receipts from my wallet and dropped them into the envelope. I gave him the balloon, the tomato, the deodorant, the toothpaste and toothbrush. I almost forgot the Mountain Dews but remembered them just in time.
Then it was time to relax in the sun for a couple hours while the scoring was done. Lunch would be at noon at the Chicken Basket. I visited with the maggots who'd come out to see the finish, and rehashed the rally with them. It was good to see Mark Muelhausen riding again, and his new ST1100 is nice. Eventually all the non-rallyist maggotry drifted off to do whatever they'd planned for their day, leaving just four of us in the parking lot. I guess everyone else was local, or else had rooms. We lay in the grass by the bikes and dozed in the warm sun; the weather was absolutely perfect for this.
At noon we rode the two blocks to gather at the Chicken Basket. The food there was great! They had chicken soup with dumplings just like I make. I've never had that in a restaurant before. Usually when you see chicken and dumplings on the menu they mean the southern kind, more like biscuits with chicken and gravy, not soup with dumpling. Yum. I could have made a meal of just that.
Cindi got up to let us know the results. Eleven riders had finished Glow in the Dark. Two riders had finished Theme Parks. She announced the winners. Rick Miller took first place for Glow in the Dark, and Eric Grundin took first place for Theme Parks. She also announced some other, special prizes. Dan, the V45 Magna rider, had won a prize for the smallest displacement engine to finish, and for this he got the largest trophy. After replacing that speedo cable in the parking lot, he had gone on to ride 1150 miles to complete Theme Parks. Bob Cantrell won a small clock for being the one time-barred by the smallest amount of time, seventeen minutes.
After handing out all those prizes, she started down the list of how the rest of us had done. I was amazed to learn that I'd placed third, ahead of both Thane Silliker and Dan Pierce. I couldn't understand how that happened, so I asked Rigger about it later. It seems that neither of them brought very many toll receipts, but I'd brought in lots. Thane had visited all the power plants, but he didn't bring in a balloon (worth 750 points) and he'd missed some of the smaller boni I'd gotten. Dan had collected several smaller boni I'd missed, but he had not gone to the seventh power plant the way he'd been planning, he'd missed the Ottawa gas receipt, he'd taken a picture of the skewered cars instead of the circuit board towers at Cermak Plaza, and he hadn't brought in a cold six pack. All my boni were validated and accepted, even the black pictures of the Portage monument.
I also learned that there was a Continental Divide sign right there in the Scoville Park, near the statue I'd photographed. I never saw it. Apparently there are a whole bunch of them marking the line between the Mississippi watershed and the Great Lakes watershed, which runs through the Chicago suburbs and up into Wisconsin.
In hindsight I wonder if I was too conservative in my approach? I could have been a contender, but instead I was the only one to spend the night in a motel room. I could have gotten the graveyard bonus, maybe some others in the Chicagoland area, visited that last power plant, and still gotten back in time. I could have placed first, not third. But then, I could just have easily have found another scary road hazard like that edge trap, and gotten hurt. I knew I was tired so I stopped. It's good to know your limits. And I'm thrilled just to have placed third. Heck, if I'd tried for more stuff, I could just as easily have ended up coming in to the finish 45 seconds later, and won that clock for being the first to time-bar!
I had a great time, and I look forward to my next rally.