Page 1 Page 2 Page 3 Page 4 Page 5 Page 6 Page 7 Page 8 Page 9 Page 10 Page 11 Page 12 Page 13 Page 14 Page 15 Page 16 Page 17 Page 18 Page 19 Page 20 Page 21 Page 22 Page 23 Page 24 Page 25 Page 26 Page 27 Page 28 Page 29 Page 30 Page 31 Page 32 Page 33 Page 34 Page 35 Page 36 Page 37 Page 38 Page 39 Page 40 Page 41 Page 42 Page 43 Page 44 Page 45 Page 46 Page 47 Page 48 Page 49 Page 50 Page 51 Page 52 Page 53 Page 54 Page 55 Page 56 Page 57 Page 58 Page 59 Page 60 Page 61 Page 62 Page 63 Page 64 Page 65 Page 66 Page 67 Page 68 Page 69 Page 70 Page 71 Page 72 Page 73 Page 74 Page 75 Page 76 Page 77 Page 78 Page 79 Page 80 Page 81 Page 82 Page 83 Page 84 IRON BUTT MAGAZINE | Winter 2014 scooter in the ditch with title stuffed under the seat for whoever wanted it. But with  hard-earned miles, I know all too well I won’t bail now. I just need to gut out another  miles to make my thousand- mile mark. Currently my sole contact to the outside world is Jim Pierce, who is on his honeymoon and about to take his new bride to dinner. I can’t speak to Jim because the noise is deafening from traffic, but we have been texting back and forth at a furious rate trying to line up help to salvage my ride. Getting a tow was the first step. Less than a week earlier, I was at Jim’s wedding in Washington, D.C. He took off an entire day just before getting married to give us a tour of D.C.…on Vespa scooters. I had a blast and  hours later I was back in Idaho and searching for a scooter. It seemed my whole life was revolving around these "-wheeled vehicles. The truth was scooters had been taking up more space in my mind than I cared to admit. The call had gone out six weeks earlier from the Iron Butt Association in the form of a “scooter hell ride” called the IBA Scooter Insanity. The basic plan was to beg, borrow or rent a scooter to see if you could pull off a SaddleSore .I reviewed the average speed on what it would take to pull off the basic Iron Butt ride if I did find a scooter — . mph over  hours. I’m such a sucker for adventures like this…swimming upstream kind of stuff. My mind and fingers were on overload thinking about this unique challenge as I kept tapping the keyboard looking for rental scooters, checking eBay or Craigslist for possibilities. Not really knowing what I was looking for,I asked around to see if any friends knew of anyone that would rent me a scooter for the day.The word went out and came back…nothing. Tim Miller, the Mother Cat, finishes up his work loading the Roketa onto his tow truck. We start threading our way through Seattle’s rush hour.It’s after  p.m.and our destination is Seattle Cycle Works in north Seattle. I’m finally able to speak to Jim now,who’s been working the Internet and has found one person who is sympathetic to my situation. Mother Cat keeps the tow truck forging ahead as best he can through the traffic.I keep my fingers crossed. Back from Washington, D.C., I pour through Craigslist like a drunken bride and come across a Chinese scooter called a Roketa.The owner,Teresa from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, said she could meet me at  p.m. that afternoon. Cash in hand and with my daughter Laura in tow, I take the blue Roketa for a spin and decide it would work when it topped out at mph. The next morning with new plates and insurance up to snuff, I changed the oil and aired up the tires. All ready to go, I checked the weather and it was excellent considering it was the first of May. Departure time was set for  a.m. The tow truck exits off of Aurora Boulevard next to Seattle Cycle Works. Three guys are standing outside the service area and look as if they are expecting us. They are. My ride might just get revived. The tech whips the Roketa on to the stand, identifies a ripped valve stem, changes it, and notices that the motor is seriously low on oil. Since I had changed the oil the day before, I never gave it a second thought. Pete did though, and I’m back on the road and out of Seattle in less than  min- utes. Being Seattle and the north- west of course it rains and I get pelted hard going back over Snoqualmie Pass. I’m wet, cold and haven’t eaten all day, but my ride is still in gear. Without a GPS I’m doing a lot of mental calculations to figure out what I need to do. I press on. When I finally arrive in Sandpoint, Idaho, my fuel receipt at the Exxon is the exact time as  hours earlier. What a day! What a week! I’m pretty pleased as in one day I Scooter Insanity