Iron Butt Glory

The Riders Who Are Home on the Road

They live to ride. Perhaps they have been infected by some rare germ that makes them motorcycle thousands of miles in a matter of days–the kind of distances that leave others gaping. Or perhaps they are really not of this world–not of the sedentary, safe circumscription of our modern lives. Perhaps they are responding to something primal in the human spirit: to rove–and to never feel quite so home as when they are riding away from it.

The flag under which they gather is that of the Iron Butt Association, and …