For almost two decades I’ve owned garage queens and puttered around town and the surrounding county with a few ventures farther into the state never going farther than 90 miles. This Triumph has changed that.
I have a yearly gig commitment that goes back a decade for a benefit concert second weekend in June, and knowing this what should come to pass? That’s the date my nephew’s fiancé sets for their wedding. In Traveler’s Rest, SC. 250+ miles from my home. With the rehearsal dinner set for the same Friday night as the gig. So I get this hair brained plan: send the missus on to the dinner (with my finery and shaving kit) and follow the next morning on the Triumph to make the obligatory appearance at the wedding. Friday night he benefit gig goes smoothly but off loading the rental truck takes until 1 am Saturday morning.
6 am Saturday, you can’t even see the sky, only a pale gray mass overhead, the residual cloud/fog from the only rain we’ve seen in a month. Still, it looks promising and it’s not raining. I’m excited and nervous but I’m determined to do it. Shower off last night’s mung, a quick breakfast, feed the cats and give the faithful dog some treats to hold her over (until the neighbor comes over to feed) and then give the bike a quick once over to make sure it’s good to go. Alrighty then, it’s 7:00 am central time and off we go. My absolute deadline is 4pm Eastern time and I’m certain I can make it. Maybe. If I can remember the highway numbers and the towns in Georgia that mark the highway changes.
I leave my farm at the base of Sand Mountain and as I clear the cut I can see the clouds hanging low over Lookout. The short descent into Lookout Valley ends in a light fog at Hwy 11 but that quickly clears as I head north out of town. At Valley Head I take the first turn to the east on hwy 117 and it’s back into the clouds for a bit as we climb Lookout to Mentone and I’m really enjoying the purr of the mufflers through the earplugs. After a quick trip over the mountain it’s a nice descent into Georgia; the mountains surrounding Menlo and Summerville have layers of clouds spread across the low valleys as if they’re smoldering. ******, it looks like painting or a jacket from a coffee table book. It’s so nice and cool and the mountain roads offer just enough twists and climbs to make for enjoyable ride. I’m really pleased at how well the Triumph is running, the bike is still new to me and I have spent hours pouring over the forum looking for hints and details on maintenance and performance and it seems to be paying off. In Summerville I fall in behind a guy on a Road Star and we ride along for a bit, he’s go a nice looking bike but he’s out for a local cruise and after a few miles he turns off and I’m alone again; a few Harley cats are going the other way and I do the “biker wave†but I never know if I should just point one finger down or two so I alternate. The oncoming riders all stick an arm out with a variety of fingers extended so I guess it’s not just me. Out of Summerville 48 runs into US 27 and it’s quick work to Armuchee and the turn on 140 toward Adairsville. The Triumph really hits a pleasing note around 70 and I’m amazed at how little buzz is coming through the grips or the pegs. So far, this is one of my usual routes to Atlanta in the car so I’m familiar with the route and the first 65 miles go by in a flash. As I cross I-75 I enter the unknown portion of the trip. 140 to Waleska, then turn onto 53 I tell myself. Two miles out of Waleska I pull over and check my notes and, oops, I was meant to turn left back there on 108 and head toward Tate. No matter, the Georgia highlands are pretty and the air is still cool and I’m just loving the way the bike feels and sounds and this is the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.
About 2 miles before Tate (and the real turn onto 53) a traffic light halts progress and just as it turns green as State trooper on a Police Bike blocks the intersection and a half-mile long group of bikes goes by. I’m reminded of the writings by Chy on the Patriot Riders and I wonder, but, there’s really no way to know. By now it’s 9:30 or so local time and a few more bikes are puttering by, lots of Harleys with a few groups of sportbikes, none going my way. Tate turns out to be a cool little town, the local school is faced completely in marble and even though it’s just a box shaped building the stone face is magnificent. I had marked Marble Hill as a way point on my trip planning map and now the name makes sense; out of Tate I pass the two huge industrial quarries and I know for certain. On 53 through Dawsonville and on toward Gainesville where I know the real directional challenge is going to occur. Somewhere around Dougherty the citizenry of Atlanta have staked their claim and it’s slow going through the weekend traffic but it’s not horrible it’s just not “sportyâ€Â. Then in Gainesville it’s like the heat hammer comes crashing down. My helmet feels like it’s heated and the obligatory protective leather jacket is starting to feel pretty warm. Since I lack the means to remove the jacket (the saddlebags weren’t properly mounted so they stayed behind) it’s just the hand I’ve dealt myself. Out of Gainesville it’s a short blast up I-985 which rapidly turns into US 23 and is like riding on a pizza brick. I fall in behind a Harley guy and his passenger and we run together for 25 miles or so at a pretty high speed. At one of the infrequent traffic lights he tells me he’s restoring a 68 Bonneville and a 69 T-100 and he likes my America and then we part ways as I turn off onto 17 for Toccoa. The Triumph has displayed a certain amount of sustainable power running with the big twin and I continue to be impressed.
Ever since I saw “Band of Brothers†I wanted to see Currahee Mountain where the airborne soldiers were born. Just outside Toccoa there’s only one towering mountain in view and it’s dominated by cell towers and masts so in my mind it becomes Currahee and is it ever steep! This fat boy ain’t running up that beast anytime soon. I’m a little disappointed that the roads aren’t as twisty through here as I had imagined since it is on the edge of the Seneca River valley but the road is good and the ride is again fun. The four lane was just too much like work, these two lane roads are a bit of a challenge and more fun to zip along and the Triumph really shows it’s balance and strength.
Then into South Carolina, the state of my birth and home to some God-awful roadbeds. It’s like someone wrinkled portions of the lane like a washboard and not always the same area of either lane. Here I felt the rear shocks and the front forks were lacking as it was a jangly, jarring run for 25 miles, most of which I spent looking for the “good†in both lanes. The 25 more miles and I was in Easley/Greenville and working my way to the motel. All through Greenville it was “avoid the grease patch†as the pale gray road surface had a sharply defined dark center that spread out at every traffic light. It just looked slippery and I wasn’t about to end my first “big run†by laying my bike down at an intersection. After winding through downtown it was onto I-385 and three exits later I found the motel. All in all it took roughly 5 ½ hours to cover the 258 miles and I never felt that buzz or numbness that had marked my past long runs. I am considering floorboards, though, as the peg placement got a bit uncomfortable after 3 hours, not quite forward enough (I think) and I’m not so tall. Seems like I have some more forum searching to do.
On the return trip the next morning (actually, this morning) it was pretty much the same trip in reverse except the temps were much cooler across the zone that burned me up Saturday. In Gainesville I made a happy mistake and took Hwy 60 to Dahlonega which was a much more pleasant ride than Hwy 53 around Lake Lanier. It was a quick spin up to Georgia’s gold mining center and then I took Hwy 9 out of Dahlonega to Dawsonville to pick up 53 and head home. It would have been the ride of my life on Hwy 9 through some of the most challenging twisties EXCEPT I ended up follow Grandma’s Cadillac on the way home from Sunday Meeting and never got out of third gear. The sport bike trio that blew by me going the other way were dragging leather and loving life! Truthfully, I was very lucky because when those sport boys blew by I realized my left grip had come unglued and I was no longer riding safe. A quick stop at the Tate Dollar General for some gel super glue and I was good to go again. This time Adairsville, Summerville and Menlo weren’t so pleasant as the temps crept up to 90 and the leather jacket was fast becoming an oven . The ride up Lookout Mountain cooled things off and as I dropped off into Lookout Valley from Mentone I marveled at the clear view. It seemed like I could see clear to Huntsville from the brow of the mountain, then, all to soon I was home and back to work.
All-in-all I turned in 536 miles in two days, made the wedding, got back in time to close the store and had a great ride. That’s no “iron butt†ride but it’s the most adventurous I’ve been in almost 20 years. Where to next?
