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| Riding through the plains of South Dakota, on my way to Badlands National Park. Photo Credit: Felicia Morgan |
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| September 12th, 2012: Spirit Lake, Iowa to Murdo, South Dakota. Celebrating my 21st birthday with a ride in the rain. This photo showed up on the Harley Davidson Facebook page. Photo Credit: Michael Lichter |
"I remember sitting in a pool of sweat and grease on the side
of the road in Michigan, trying to re-time my engine. I was two hours and 60
miles behind schedule and that gap was widening every minute. Someone stopped
on the side of the road to make sure I was okay and to offer help. The first
thing they asked was “What are you doing?” It was at this point that I took a
moment to ponder that question myself. Here I was deep in the middle of
Michigan on a broken down 85 year old motorcycle up to my elbows in oil and
grime, trying like mad to beat the clock for the day’s finish. “Well, I’m
racing this 1927 BSA from New York to San Francisco with 70 other old
motorcycles. We’re trying to re-create a cross country endurance ride from
1913,” I said. “You guys must be crazy….” was the response. Yeah, that’s closer
to the truth than you might believe….
In September of 2012, 78 riders from 15 different countries
congregated in Newburgh, New York with an amazing group of motorcycles, all of
which were built before 1930. Our mission was simple enough: Over 17 days we
would jockey our machines across 11 states through any and all weather
conditions, headed west to San Francisco. Our route would take us through the
Great Lakes, the plains of Iowa and lonely roads of South Dakota, the Rocky
Mountains and Grand Tetons of Wyoming, and finally through the legendary
Redwood forest on our path to the Pacific Coast Highway. All in all, our
journey was set to cover 3,956 miles from coast to coast, with an average
mileage count of 300 miles per day. This can be a long day on a modern bike,
but on a machine that is 83+ years old it makes for a battle to beat the
setting of the sun. Constant repairs and adjustments on the roadside, 50 mile
an hour (that was the hope anyway) average speeds, and nightly parking lot
rebuilds to be ready for the next day. Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be that
simple.
The idea behind this crazy cross-country run came from the
history books. In 1913, Erwin “Cannonball” Baker set out on his brand new
two-speed Indian Motorcycle to attempt a record for the fastest
trans-continental journey by motorcycle. Baker and his machine faced incredibly
difficult conditions and many problems along the way, but made the journey from
California to New York in a record 11 days, 12 hours, and 10 minutes. In 2010
Lonnie Isam, Jr, a renowned restorer of early motorcycles, announced his plans
to conduct a similar commemorative run from coast to coast. This Cannonball was
open to machines manufactured prior to 1916, and a field of 45 entries soon
joined. Due to the success of this race (more than 30 machines completed the
journey from Kitty Hawk, North Carolina to Santa Monica, California), Lonnie
opened up the competition again for 2012. This second race would allow
motorcycles built before 1930; however the race was longer and crossed much
more difficult terrain. By no means would Cannonball II be easier.
Entrants into the race were divided into three separate
classes, determined by the engine displacement. Class I was for motors under
750cc and subsequently turned into the hardest class, as most competitors,
including myself, were riding single cylinder motors capable of 45 miles per
hour. Class II allowed bikes that displaced 750-1000cc; Class III, unlimited
displacement. Competitors were allowed to modify and update the safety of their
motorcycles by fitting new brakes and installing modern tires and rims, but the
engines and frames had to remain mostly original. All entrants had to be
licensed motorcyclists and all bikes had to be registered and insured with
working lighting systems. While commonly referred to as a race, the event was
actually an endurance run. For each mile completed riders receive one point,
with a total of 3,956 points possible. Older bikes were placed above newer
bikes in the classes, and tie breakers were determined by the age of the
machine, then age of the rider. During the day, riders were unable to be helped
by their support crews in the event of a breakdown. The only help entrants
could receive was from passersby, other competitors, and official Cannonball
staff acting as “sweepers.”
The 2012 Motorcycle Cannonball Endurance run has already
been named as the “hardest race in the world.” (Bike UK, October 2012) 17 days of adhering to the mantra of “Ride,
Wrench, Repeat” can take its toll. There are also the dangers of motorcycling
itself; along the route, we had three accidents which resulted in twisted
machines and visits to the emergency room. You may be asking yourself, “Why in
the world would anyone want to subject themselves to a ride like this?” The
answer is simple: we were time travelers, coaxing our antiques along the route
in a journey to discover the back roads of this great country, as well as to
discover a little bit more about ourselves. We set out to prove that antique
motorcycles are still a very feasible mode of transportation. Plus, it was for
the glory. As Buzz Kanter, editor of American
Iron Magazine, said: “We are doing something that 99.9% of motorcyclists
will never attempt or think about accomplishing.” It did help that we all were
minus a few grams of sanity at the start…
Representing the great state of Texas, I entered into the
Cannonball run with the rest of my team. My dad, Mike Carson, has been right
beside me for years restoring and preserving classic motorcycles, and jumped on
board immediately after hearing of the race. Like me, he is a little bit crazy
too. The team crew chief, Shawn McGarry II, has been my best friend for years
and has a passion for vintage bikes too. Our last team member was a close
friend from England who was looking to see the USA…little did he know that a
leisurely holiday was not in store. Looking to extend our famous Texas
hospitality, our team offered to host two other international teams; the
“Roaring Rudges” from Derbyshire, England, and “Southern Cross” from Melbourne,
Australia. Our rig was elaborately set up to be a 30 foot rolling machine shop
with a full complement of heavy manufacturing and welding equipment, air tools,
and a few luxuries such as air conditioning, 12 bottle wine cooler, and
refrigerated beer tap. Of course we had to glorify our Texas roots, so our
truck soon sported a six foot set of steer horns and a giant Texas flag flying
from the bed.
Entrants from all over the world brought out a variety of
early American, German and British motorcycles in all kinds of conditions, from
museum-quality to “barn fresh.” Marquees such as Harley Davidson, BMW, Indian,
Henderson, and BSA were represented by a vast group of riders and teams of all
different walks of life. Multiple-time inductees to the Motorcycle Hall of Fame
could be found sharing wrenches and the same patch of ground with riders who
had never ridden or worked on old motorcycles. High dollar semi truck RVs
shared space with riders sleeping next to their bikes. Our group was a
travelling circus that left a flurry of valuable parts, tools, and oil stains
in its wake. However, we were a family; everyone helped everyone. Although it
was a race, we all pushed each other (literally and figuratively) to make the
finish line.
Our group raced through all conditions imaginable. Stage Two
of the race in Pennsylvania saw freezing rain, flooding roads, and 40 mile an
hour winds that nearly blew us off the road. Riding through the plains of Iowa
and Wisconsin, we encountered blazing temperatures and blinding sun. Roads in
Yellowstone National Park were blocked by 2000 pound buffalo, and freezing rain
overnight dropped the temperature to a cool 21 degrees for the next morning. We
crossed lakes, farmlands, deserted country roads, and 10,000 foot mountain
passes. Along the route riders were treated to the landmarks of America; we
passed through Badlands National Park, the Black Hills and Mount Rushmore,
Devils Tower, and Yellowstone National Park. The race just didn’t stop rolling,
and neither did us Cannonballers. All
throughout our journey, small towns welcomed us in with open arms. Businesses
and schools shut early, just so folks could see the traveling motorcycle show.
Mayors and Chambers of Commerce toasted us and treated us to homecooked lunches
and gifts. Several prominent motorcycle museums and shops, including Orange
County Choppers, Harley Davidson and the National Motorcycle Museum, opened
their workshops and borrowed parts from bikes on display to keep us going.
I joined the race with two goals in mind; I wanted to make
the trip of a lifetime, but more importantly, I wanted to get younger people
interested in vintage motorcycles. It’s a good, clean hobby that is just as
addictive as any drug or alcohol out there. Plus, the skills and knowledge to
keep these old bikes alive won’t always be there unless younger people get
involved and learn from the legends of motorcycling. As it turned out, I was
the youngest to ever attempt a journey such as this; halfway through the race I
turned 21 years old, celebrating by rebuilding my engine in a Sturgis, South
Dakota parking lot. Happily, a ton of youngsters from all around the country
have contacted me asking for help in getting their first old motorcycle. Additionally,
I was honored to be asked by the Antique Motorcycle Club of America to join
Mrs. Britney Olsen as an assistant coordinator for the club Youth Program. Now
it is my hope that I can use an experience like this to promote the club and
old motorcycles to the younger generations for years to come.
In retrospect, the race really can be considered the
“hardest in the world.” No one was without problems. While some teams had
multiple spare engines, other groups had few to no spares. My own motorcycle, a
1927 BSA S27 that I named “Elizabeth” was completely rebuilt from the ground up
on two separate occasions with a small selection of spare parts. Night after
night my team and I wrenched on the bike until 1 or 2 in the morning to be
ready for the next morning. Memorable moments include seizing the engine four
times in less than two miles in the Black Hills, losing my magneto points cover
in the middle of a rainstorm, riding with one hand while holding loose parts on
the bike with the other hand, and constantly being covered in black engine oil
from the “total loss” oil system. Although I retained a smile through most of
these setbacks, there were moments of complete and utter despair, to be
followed by heartbreak.
Having been off the road for several days to rebuild the
motor, I was disqualified in Fortuna, California, two days from the end. Even
with this setback, I was determined to continue riding. Alas, it was not to be;
my motor blew again on the night before the end. Our team had no more spare
parts, and we put out an emergency distress call to all collectors on the west
coast to no avail. With as much pride as I could muster, I put on my cowboy
hat, attached the biggest Texas flag we had to the back of the bike, and pushed
my mount 3 miles across the Golden Gate Bridge with my crew behind me and my
fellow Cannonballers riding next to us. Our team finished the race, one way or
another. In case you didn’t know, Texans don’t give up.
The conclusion of the event was an emotional one for our
team. Unbeknownst to us, a secret vote had taken place amongst teams and riders
to see who helped out others the most, and with more than a dozen documented
cases of us loaning equipment, time, or other types of assistance, we were
selected to receive the “Spirit of the Cannonball” award. During the closing
banquet, we were called up to the front of the room to a standing ovation by
the rest of the entrants and their teams.
Our prize was a handmade wicker sidecar body, crafted by Australian
Chris Knoop. Looking back, I don’t think there was a dry eye on our team at
receiving this honor.
The overall winner was Brad Wilmarth, who actually won the
first event on the exact same motorcycle; his 1913 Excelsior 61 cubic inch twin
purred all the way across the country for the second time. Coming in second
place was Joe Gardella on his 1914 Harley Davidson that also completed the
first Motorcycle Cannonball. In Class I, our very own Mike Wild from the
Roaring Rudges race team grabbed a well-deserved third place on his 1925 Rudge
Four. Regardless, everyone attained their own victory in reaching the
destination; the ultimate bragging rights had been achieved. Happily, even the
three riders who had been involved in accidents were at the closing banquet,
casts, crutches and all! Everyone was extremely vocal at the idea of bringing
the race back in two years, and there have been rumors of a run from Key West,
Florida to Anchorage, Alaska. You’d have to be crazy to do that one…..but it’s
a good thing there are others like us who consider sanity to be overrated. The
show must go on."
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| Elizabeth and I have our own "Close Encounters" moment at Devil's Tower, Wyoming alongside fellow Cannonballer Art Farley |
Until next time,
Buck Carson
Cannonball Rider #3
Carson Classic Motors Race Team
Cannonball Rider #3
Carson Classic Motors Race Team
