Earning the Iron Butt Association's Bun Burner Gold means riding 1500 miles in less than 24 hours.

"That's a really stupid idea. When would we do it?" That was my friend Richard's response when I told him about my plan for us to go for the Iron Butt Association's Bun Burner Gold award. I figured June 21, the first day of summer and longest day of the year, would be ideal for trying to ride 1500 miles in less than 24 hours.

"And why would we do it?" His next question was a lot tougher to answer. Riding that far in a single stretch wasn't really going to be fun. After all, we'd have to stick to the interstate, stop only for gas and ride all night. But if we succeeded we'd get a nifty certificate from the Iron Butt Association and our names on one of the shorter lists on the IBA website. Oh yeah, there's challenge. And you can't overlook the bragging rights. We'll forever be able to boast of doing something both ridiculous and meaningless. How could anyone turn that down?

Not Richard, apparently, because he immediately fired up his mapping software to find a spot on one of the interstate highways crossing Albuquerque that would be exactly 750 miles away. We didn't want to ride a single mile more than necessary, but we couldn't just ride 750 miles and turnaround anywhere. It had to be a place with a gas pump and a credit card reader, so we can use the receipts to prove we were there. Table Rock, Wyoming, was just such a place. Sitting at exit 150 on I-80 west of Laramie, Table Rock was exactly 753 miles from Albuquerque - hardly more than a beer run. There and back and we've bagged our Bun Burner Gold. What could be easier?

IBA extreme rules required an authority figure - a policeman, judge or the like -- to witness our departure and return. Since Richard's wife was a judge, that part would be easy -- at least if we could get her out of bed at 5:00 in the morning. But wake her we did and she dutifully logged our odometer readings and time of departure, before mumbling something that included the word stupid and going back to bed. We intrepid riders headed for a nearby gas station for a time-dated receipt that would be our official start time. The clock was running and so were we.

Tunneling through the darkness and into the dawn we headed north on I-25. Our goal was to maintain an average moving speed of 80 mph with an overall average no less than 70 mph. That would give us a little break time along the way and put us back in Albuquerque in about 22 hours - time to get in bed before the sun comes up.

Like all interstates, I-25 is basically straight, flat and boring. Oh sure, there are mountains in the distance but the road itself doesn't offer much of interest. Our bikes had big tanks that gave us a range of 200 miles or more, so fuel stops were the highlight of the ride, anticipated for miles and undertaken with great efficiency. Gas up, get the receipt, log the time and odometer reading, hit the head, hit the starter, and hit the road.

Keeping our speed up was easy until we hit the Denver metro area. The urban traffic slowed to a crawl at times but kept moving at least. Everything seemed to change when we turned west onto I-80 at Cheyenne. Traffic thinned to just a few trucks, the sky turned gray, the wind turned cold and rain began to fall. Expecting to spend the day enduring summer heat, we were surprised to have our electric vests turned up to "toast." Even though it's generally flat, the GPS (and the weather) said the altitude was 7000 feet or more. I think I've read somewhere that Wyoming is the least populated state in the union, and traveling I-80 bears it out.

Table Rock has got to be one of the loneliest places on the planet. It's hard to figure why the little bar/gas station is even there, but to us it looked like gleaming Oz at the end of the Yellow Brick Road. We took our longest break of the trip and spent almost 30 minutes munching trail mix and drinking coffee. Then we geared up and headed off the way we came, spirits buoyed by a second wind as well as a tail wind. It was 4:45 p.m. and we only had 753 miles to go!

During the last 200 miles of the trip, crossing northern New Mexico in the wee hours of the morning, things started to feel surreal. No scenery, no landmarks, just the lines and lights of the freeway stretching out in front of us. Where were we? What direction were we going? Would the trip ever end? We made our last rest stop at a darkened rest area, standing among idling trucks with the Milky Way blazing overhead.

The final descent from Santa Fe to Albuquerque filled us with new spirit as the lights of the city gradually surrounded us. At 3:45 a.m. we pulled into the same gas station we had left 22.5 hours and 1515 miles earlier, got our precious receipts, high-fived each other and headed for the house.

Despite wearing earplugs, my head was roaring as it hit the pillow. Four hours later I was awake and feeling surprisingly good. Some famous writer once said that travel was glamorous only in retrospect. That was never so true as it was that morning. The really short list at the Iron Butt Association is the people who have done two Bun Burner Golds back to back. Now those guys are really crazy.