Kyle Petty Charity Ride: Off and riding across country (cont'd)

DAY 3: SUN VALLEY, IDAHO

Kevin Kane Photography

Seventeen-year-old Mariah Barthlow provided some entertainment at the fuel stop in Dayton, Wash.

The name of the town wasn't as eye-catching as the line below it. On the federal-green sign it read:

Stanley, Idaho

Population: 100

A couple hundred yards down the road, when the Kyle Petty Charity Ride pulled in for its final fuel stop of Day 2, most riders had forgotten the towns name already. But the census figures were accurate. Nobody was there. It was a rare occurrence. Most other stops along the way have had autograph seekers and occasional police escorts. Not Stanley.

Pulling in for fuel nearly tripled the town's population.

That's the year-round population. "In the summer, it's a lot more with tourist season," said Mercedes, who was working the register at the quiet, wooden building that had snowmobile parking signs in the back lot.

It was 42 degrees and snow was rumored to be on the other side of the mountain range the ride was preparing to cross. Icy white mounds packed on either side of the road just past the station. It was quite the contrast from 10 a.m. Saturday morning.

In Dayton, Wash., two fueling stations sat across from each other, one a brand-name stop while the other was simply called Dayton General Store. As the majority of riders packed into the Shell station to top off and grab a snack, a few trying to avoid the crowd for a restroom break darted across the street to the small, low-key market.

"You guys with the charity ride?" the lady behind the counter asked. "It's been the talk of the town."

She meant that in a good way, despite the rival station hosting the first stop.

With temperatures topping 70 degrees and no clouds in the sky, it was a perfect stop. A crowd was waiting at the Shell station. Kyle Petty hopped off his bike and signed shirts and autograph cards for kids and adults. Seventeen-year-old Mariah Barthlow played eclectic tunes on her violin, setting an Irish backdrop. "It's exciting and a little chaotic," she said between songs.

Little did the riders know the stop would set the tune for the rest of a long day.

The map registers 452 miles from Richland, Wash., to Sun Valley, Idaho. And it was a true test to every sense of the body.

If Dayton provided the music, then Grangeville, Idaho, surely provided the smell. Hot dogs and hamburgers awaited the group for the second fuel stop, and the smoke bellowing from beneath the red tent looked like one big block party had broken out. The three cooks had it planned just right. Expect 180 people, they were told, so they prepared food for 260. It was gone when the ride pulled out, and nobody left hungry.

From there, the sights were triggered as Highway 95 is something from a pop-up children's book. The desert-like rocks were suddenly complemented by the ice-capped mountains in the Sawtooth National Recreation Area. The ride ventured into the 45th Parallel (equal distance from the equator to the North Pole) when it rode through New Meadows, Idaho.

But just before 4 p.m. local time, the sense of touch reared its ugly head.

Motor down, the voice called over the radio. Two riders had taken a fall. Some of the support group stopped to assist. No major injuries.

By nightfall, the ride rolled through a parade-like atmosphere in downtown Ketchum,

Idaho, before settling in at posh Sun Valley Resort, base for skiing at Bald Mountain. Despite snow on the mountain, the season was over. Walking the short distance to the ballroom for a late dinner, the resorts outdoor mall was closed and quiet. It had a slight resemblance to the silent stop for fuel just a short while ago, where Mercedes was the lone cashier for the entire ride to top off the tanks.

"This is going to shoot it right over the top tonight," Mercedes said before walking out the door and turning on her camera for a picture of the bikes. "Normally, I do about $300 for the night shift. It's going to be a lot more than that tonight." (Continued)