A Widow's Ride

The Journey Begins: Nerves, Rain, and the Open Road

The preparation was done, the first day of the Scooter Cannonball Run had finally arrived. I knew the next phase of this adventure would be a mix of long days in the saddle and strategic nights spent planning the next leg of the journey. What I didn’t know was how quickly it would transform from a solo challenge into a shared experience.

Day 1: Finding My Groove in the Rain

The Scooter Cannonball is a test of endurance and skill, and on Day 1, I was all nerves. The alarm went off before dawn, a routine that would become all too familiar, and I set off alone in the rain. I was so glad I had replaced my rear tire as the route was full of twisty roads. As a rider who prefers wide, sweeping plains, the tight, twisting forest roads were a challenge to my confidence. I was overthinking every corner, questioning every turn.

But something shifted. After a couple of checkpoints, I started to notice other riders—fellow scooterists on their own journeys. A sense of camaraderie, even just in passing, began to build. With each checkpoint, my doubts started to fade. I realized how nimble and light my scooter was, and I began to enjoy the challenge of the winding roads. My mind quieted, and the joy of riding took over.

Later that day, I met Kevin, a fellow rider who was having GPS trouble. We rode the rest of the day together, navigating from checkpoint to checkpoint and stopping to refuel and get snacks and water from the amazing support crews—the unsung heroes of the Cannonball. We made it to the final checkpoint in 11 hours and 16 minutes. I finished in 21st place in my class and 43rd out of 300 riders, a result that made me incredibly proud. The day ended with a much-needed dinner and a logistical deep dive with my new friends, Terra and Claire, mapping out our strategy for Day 2.

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Day 2: A Somber Reminder of Why We Ride Together

On Day 2, I set off on my own again but quickly linked up with Terra and Claire. We had decided to stick together for the rest of the day, a decision that proved to be life-saving. The Cannonball is a series of extremes—one minute you don’t see another person for miles, and the next you’re running into a group of riders at a checkpoint. This day, however, brought home the reality of this solitary sport.

As we rode, we came upon an accident scene. We knew something was wrong when we saw a fellow rider throwing debris onto the road to get someone’s attention. When we stopped, we discovered one of our competitors had crashed into a ravine. He was a solo rider, and it was a stroke of luck that the other rider had seen him veer off the road.

Because of my training as a Mounted Search and Rescue reserve and the additional training I took with the Road Guardian program, I knew what to do. I began to triage the situation, assigning Terra and Claire to go back to find a cell signal and direct traffic. I stayed with the rider, keeping him on his side and comforting him while we waited for help to arrive. I relayed his condition to the police when they showed up, and they began cutting away the brush so we could safely pull him from the ravine.

Once he was safe and I had given my statement to the police, the three of us got back on the road to finish our route. The rest of the day was a quiet and somber ride. It was a stark reminder of how precious life is and why a buddy system is so important on a run like this. That night, we continued our ritual of planning, but with a renewed sense of gratitude.

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Day 3: A Lost Cap and Found Friendship

By Day 3, Terra, Claire, and I had found our groove. Our teamwork was seamless, and we moved through the checkpoints with ease. The only hiccup came at our last gas stop of the day. As I pulled away from the pump, I smelled gas and looked down to see that I had left the cap off my auxiliary gas can. My friends’ scooters were faster than mine, and without intercoms, I couldn’t catch them.

I pulled over and texted them that I was turning back. My first thought was to go back to the gas station to find the cap, but I didn’t want to waste time. I decided to get a new gas can, a smaller one since it was all the station had. As I was filling up, another scooterist stopped to help. He suggested I keep my old can just in case we found the cap on the road. He gave me a strap to tie it down, and we were off.

Sure enough, a few miles down the road, there it was—my gas cap! I pulled over, untied my original gas can, and poured the fuel from the smaller, new can into it. I left the new one on the side of the road, figuring it would make someone’s day. I made it to the final checkpoint without any more issues, and we wrapped up our day with our usual dinner and planning session. The first three days of the run had tested my resolve, but they had also shown me the immense value of community.