As I rode east through Colorado -- in the rain, in the dark and with way more than 750 miles of high-speed mountain riding behind me that day - it was hard to believe that this was supposed to be fun. I was nearing the end of day one of the Thin Air TT, a two-day long distance rally. I had been disqualified hundreds of miles earlier when I failed to make the day's one and only checkpoint on time and now my only goal was to get back to the rally hotel without being swamped by a passing truck.

Intrigued by the Iron Butt Rally and long distance riding, the Thin Air TT looked like a particularly good event to cut my teeth on. Instead of the traditional 1000-miles-in-24-hours format, the Thin Air TT, sponsored by the Chapter C Freewheelers of Denver, split the ride into two days, which supposedly meant no night riding and actually being able to see the Colorado scenery. So with my official rally packet in my jacket pocket, I rode 750 miles from my home to rally headquarters, the resort town of Avon, about 150 miles west of Denver. Despite a complete lack of long distance rally experience, I was sure I would be a top finisher.

In the parking garage of the rally hotel, my optimism began to fade. The first rider I met said he'd ridden 96,000 miles so far this year - and it was only July! The garage was filled with serious looking motorcycles, many outfitted with fuel cells, GPS, expensive radar detectors, police scanners, CB radios and enough auxiliary lights to burn the hair off a cat a block away. The bikes were mostly BMWs - K1100s with a few R1100GSs and R1100RTs -- then good number of Honda ST1100s and Kawasaki Concours (mine being one of them). A half dozen Gold Wings came next and, finally, a couple of Harleys and a Ninja. One couple from Maine even showed up on a Virago! (Don't laugh, they finished.)

The night before the rally I had dinner with a couple of riders and listened to their tales of previous long distance events, which included crossing the U.S. from San Diego to Jacksonville Beach in just 44 hours. The rally had attracted seasoned long distance riders from all over the country. Last year's winner, Brad Hogue, was considered the man to beat. Brad had actually competed in the 11,000-mile Iron Butt Rally and stories of his long distance prowess circulated through the room. Maps were handed out showing the base route for Saturday's ride, a total of 621 miles and 15 hours to do it. The rally master pointed out that that meant an average speed of only 41 mph.

"Oh, so Harleys can do it!" cracked a Wing Nut in the back of the room, followed by a howl of laughter. No, you don't have to follow the base route but you must be at the checkpoint in Durango sometime between 11:30 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. and get back to Avon no later than 8:30 p.m. Pick up your bonus sheets in the morning at 4:30 and be on your way at 5:30.

At 4:31 Saturday morning I was munching on a granola bar and going over the bonus sheets. In a lot of ways the rally is like a scavenger hunt. A scorecard from the Monte Vista golf course, signed by the pro, is worth 55 points. The first name on the WWI veterans' memorial in Buena Vista is worth 30 points. The adopt-a-highway sponsor at mile marker 227 is worth 25 points, and so on. But the really serious riders set their sights on the big point-getters: 100 points every time you cross the continental divide, 100 points for each additional state you visit, 100 points for each national park and, the queen mother of all, 250 points for a six-inch snowball, something not easily attainable in July.

Stick to the base route, grab the points along the way, watch the time and you'll finish just fine. But the allure of those big points is fiendishly seductive, and proved to be my undoing. Heading south in the pale dawn light I formulated a plan: depart from the base route and go for a 250-point snowball at the top of 12,000-ft Independence Pass. With perfect weather, a wonderful road and almost no traffic at that hour, I soon had my prize. Put it on the motorcycle, pull out the Polaroid and take a picture. I had just garnered 350 points - 250 for the snowball plus 100 for the continental divide - and the sun was barely up. Maybe a top finish was in the cards for me, after all.

I backtracked to the base route and stopped for every point-getter along the way, including getting the visiting hours at the Colorado State Correctional Facility. Independence Pass had been so quick and so profitable that I decided to again depart from the base route in pursuit of big points. Monarch pass was worth 100 points as a continental divide, another 50 points if I could find out how long the tram ride at the top took, and still another 50 if I actually took the tram ride. Riding down in the tram I was now approaching 1000 points, surely well ahead of most and maybe all. Then I looked at my watch and my heart sank.

I rode hard for Durango, ignoring the 100-point Wolf Creek Pass and everything else. If I didn't make the checkpoint by 1:30 all the points in the world wouldn't make any difference. I would be DNF - Did Not Finish - and this would all be nothing more than a sightseeing tour.

That night, some riders would complain about missing the checkpoint by as little as three minutes. I, on the other had, missed it by a full hour. The rally officials were long gone by the time I got there. The only evidence of their presence was a single Coke floating in the tepid water of the ice chest they left behind. If only I had not gone for Monarch pass I might have made the checkpoint and would still be in the rally. Damn! I was still hundreds of miles from the finish - and it was beginning to rain.

Under the best of conditions the Million Dollar Highway from Durango to Ouray can be a slow ride, but with weekend traffic and steady rain to contend with, time seemed to stand still. Some of the most spectacular scenery in the country was passing by, but I was too focused on the road to notice. A hundred miles later the rain stopped and the sun appeared as I climbed across Grand Mesa. It was gloriously beautiful and I again was caught up in the sheer joy of motorcycle travel. The sun was at my back and my nose was pointed for home as I-70 snaked its way through rugged Glenwood Canyon like a slot car track, stacked along the cliffs, over the raging Colorado River and through a mile-long S-curved tunnel. Oh, if only all Interstates were like this!

Then darkness descended, rain again began falling and it became a slow, miserable ride. I began counting down the mileposts, which seemed many miles apart. Exit 167 was the most beautiful sight in the world. It was 9:20 pm when I finally reached the checkpoint in Avon. Since I had DNF'd, it seemed pointless for the rally officials to ask for my odometer reading, rally sheet and Polaroids, but they said that 12 riders -- almost a third of the entrants, including defending champ Brad Hogue -- had missed Durango and they intended to rank the non-finishers. I felt a little better about my performance that day.

Even though I was out of the competition, I decided to ride Sunday's base route just for the fun of it. Without the pressure of gathering points, the 471-mile loop through northern Colorado was thoroughly enjoyable. I even stopped for breakfast and had a second cup of coffee. When I arrived a half-hour early at Sunday's checkpoint, I found at least a dozen riders already there. After Saturday's mass suicide, nobody was taking any chances.

A father-and-son team riding two-up took home the Tourist Trophy. George Barnes and his young son Craig, of Carbondale, CO, garnered a total of 2771 points in 1526 miles of riding.The stated purpose of the rally was to raise money to help Tony Munich, a local rider still in a coma after a riding accident last year. At the awards banquet, the drawing for door prizes spontaneously evolved into an auction, as winners offered their prizes up for bid with proceeds going to Munich's family. The generosity of motorcyclists can always be counted on.

I headed for home Monday with the events of the previous 48 hours swimming through my head. The Colorado scenery, the devilish course and the company of serious long distance riders made the Thin Air TT one of the high points of my motorcycling career. I'm already signed up for next year. I'm sure I'll be a top finisher.