I ride a motorcycle. And I know; you wonder what that has to do with Amateur Radio. Right? I’ll get to that in a moment. However, before I do, you should know that not only do a ride a motorcycle, I am an Iron Butt rider. A few years ago, I rode my first official Saddle Sore ride; 1000 miles in 24 hours. It was a skinny J shaped course that started near Detroit and ended south of St. Louis at a Shell station in Imperial, MO. Given just a few hours to research and prepare, and I would be more than ready do it again. Only this time, I would end up on a beach on the Gulf of Mexico with my boots off and my toes in the surf. Not only would I not hesitate to do another 1000 in 24, I hope to ride a “Coast to Coast in 50” before I’m done riding. That’s right. You read it correctly. 2365.6 miles - Jacksonville to San Diego - in 50 hours! Crazy; right?
On a recent Saturday morning, as I sat drinking a cup of Kona Coffee, reading my copy of Iron Butt magazine, a thought occurred to me. If a stranger came into my home and began to nose around, they would quickly begin to wonder what kind of bizarre person lives in this house. I know my wife wonders the same thing. One look at the basket filled with magazines at the end of the couch and they would be left scratching their heads trying to figure out what kind of weirdo subscribes to both Iron Butt and QST magazines. However, I would suggest that this odd combination of reading material might not be as unlikely or unnatural as one might think.
If they were to nose around the property just a bit further, they would find boxes filled with 100’s of Radiograms beneath my radio desk above which they would see my Amateur Radio license. They would see a kerosene heater in my garage shack and try to visualize what kind of a nut-case sits in that wicker chair. They would see, less than 10 feet away from my radios, is parked my motorcycle… and they would wonder.
You see, not only am I a licensed Ham… I am an Iron Butt Ham; otherwise known as a Traffic Handler. Not just a Traffic Net Checker-in-er, but I bona fide, real life, Traffic Handler. I ride my radio where but only a few Hams ride… down the long lonely highway of Traffic Handling. It is a ride which requires careful attention. It is a ride which requires adherence to a list of very specific guidelines. It is a ride which is at times lonely. It is a ride that can become difficult, tiring and burdensome. It is a ride which will test your abilities. It is a ride which you will ride when other Hams have already parked their radios. It is a ride which will cause family and friends, and even other Hams to ask, “Why?” “Why do you do it?”
I wish more people understood the joy of long distance motorcycle riding. I wish more people understood the satisfaction of sending, relaying, and delivering Radiograms. But alas, I should not expect that to happen anytime soon. While sipping my coffee, I realized that one of the reasons that I am drawn to do much of what I do in life is because not many do it. As much as I try to promote Radiogram traffic handling to others… as much as I am frustrated by the lack of response to my efforts to promote the NTS… I fear success. It may sound strange, but in a twisted logic sort of way, I fear that if all my promotion were to be successful, I might sadly set down my microphone and go find something else to do. If I were to succeed, it would, I’m afraid, be a bittersweet success.
As Iron Butt riders will attest, it is very, very difficult to complete a sanctioned Iron Butt ride in a group. As members of the Brass Pounders League, and those like myself who are not, will attest, it ain’t easy to get 500 points a month. Though there are many riders all over the world that complete qualifying rides every year, most do so alone. It is, I believe, this fact that they are doing something that is difficult, disciplined and solitary that drives them to do it. It is the long lonely stretch of abandoned highway that seduces them to ride on. No one paid me to ride a Saddle Sore ride. And, no one pays me to pass Radiograms. I am beginning to understand that I am a NTS guy for many of the same reasons I am an Iron Butt guy.
Here is your invitation to check in to a Traffic Net and join us Hams that live on Crazy Lane in Amateur Radio Heights. But please, though everything I’ve experienced to date tells me I don’t have to worry… Please… not too many of you. Just a few. I don’t want to one night sit down in front of my radio, check in to my favorite Traffic Net and think, where did all these people come from? I don’t want to have to lay down my pen, push my stack of blank Radiograms aside, turn around, get on my bike and ride out of the Shack, and go find something else to satisfy that itch down inside of myself that can only be quelled on lonely, forgotten highways.
Traffic Handlers are an odd group… of which I am happy to be a part. Iron Butt Traffic Handlers may be even stranger still. If you decide to ride with me, whether on your bike or your radio, just remember that I warned you. A lot of people will look at you as though you are crazy. But you will have the satisfaction of knowing you are doing something that others do not understand and therefore do not enjoy… and, that knowledge… obtained in the solitude of your ham radio shack while traveling the sometimes lonely NTS highway may in and of itself be your greatest and only reward.
‘Till we one day meet, tired and worn out at the counter of some lonely deserted road side diner or on a traffic net… 73, my Iron Butt Traffic Handler friend. 73.
