Iron Butt Sign Hunt Gone Sideways

I was on the hunt to grab a photo of the infamous Iron Butt sign in Iowa — just another day chasing history and backroad glory. Somewhere along the way, I missed my turn to the main road and ended up making a right onto what looked like a normal side country road.

Well… it wasn’t.

Turns out it was freshly milled, layered with loose, unpacked gravel. The first quarter mile was meh OK — manageable, even kinda fun — until it wasn’t. The gravel got deeper, the front tire started sinking, and before I could react, she sank. I drifted toward the middle of the road, tried to correct, and then… plop — Ole’ Red and I went down.

I flew Superman-style straight into the ditch, landing just shy of the cornfield. The bike did a full 180, like she was trying to head back to the main drag herself.

Fortunately, I was fully geared up — Klim jacket, gloves, pants, and full-face helmet — and walked away with a bruised (maybe broken) rib, a mild concussion, and a sore ego. After digging her out for two hours and duct-taping the fairing back together, I was spent.

I called my Beth (wifey) to let her know I was okay, checked into a hotel an hour north in MN, and figured I’d see how I felt in the morning before deciding if a hospital was needed.

That night, I met up with Carol (“Suspended by Smarty”) and Art in the lobby and invited them for dinner. It was my first time meeting them, and I decided to keep the little “Superman gravel flight” story to a minimum— no sense killing the vibe. Sometimes you just roll with it, keep your spirits high, and appreciate the company of fellow road warriors.

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🛠️ Aftermath & Reflection

The bike held up like a champ — a few scratches, a cracked fairing, and plenty of dust. But every mark tells a story. That’s the price of pushing limits – the inherit risk of riding a motorcycle.

The truth is — this journey isn’t about perfection. It’s about getting back up, patching her up with duct tape, and riding on for the cause that matters most — our heroes and my goals that I wanted to accomplish.

☠️ 0 — ✝️ Me 1

Later in the week, I rolled into Twin City Indian and had the honor of meeting one of the true icons in the Victory and Indian world — Lloyd Greer himself — along with his incredible crew. These guys are absolute superstars, from Big Tony to Tony and others at the service desk team who went above and beyond, and Rusty in the shop making sure everything wrench/bolts goes on smooth. They treated me like family — no corporate fluff, just real riders with real passion. It was the kind of comfort and camaraderie that reminds you why you love this community. I spent the better part of the morning just talking with Lloyd — about my bike, about life — and realized it’s been nearly ten years since he last wrenched on Ol’ Red in NY. Coming back full circle for a thumbs-up on engine health and a fresh oil change felt was a win that the doctor ordered.