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I've been kicking this idea around for sometime now so I figured I'd just throw it out and see what happens.

I've come to believe there may be some aspiring writers out there searching for an outlet... Got a cool story about a road trip? fiction, non-fiction... doesn't matter. Do you have an inclination towards embelleshment? The gift of gab? This is the place for you.
These are to be stories about motorcycles.. and keep it clean.. no, not the motorcycle.. the story. I'm not talking me and Billy Bob rode our Suzukis to McDonalds.... I mean real stuff. C'mon give it a go.. I'm working on something now and if it doesn't suck really bad when I'm done, I'll let ya'll read it...maybe..

Our first submission!

From Bonnyusa:

I got up early Saturday morning and walked outside. A beautiful blue sky, not a cloud anywhere, a light sea breeze, and the thermometer hovering at 67 degrees. Realizing that this was going to be one of those days, I thought about all the work I was supposed to get done and said SCREW IT!!

Quickly kissing my still sleeping wife, I walked Raven out of the garage to down near the street. No need to wake anyone who would complain, eh?

Sitting astride her, I watched the sun top the horizon like a ripe orange. Oh man, gonna’ be a great day!! I let her warm up and checked her over completely and not seeing any problems, rode east into the sunrise. Decided to head to the beach, so I took the long way there. Traffic was very light, roads were dry and clean and she was purring like a tiger. Made my way to some of my favorite streets that actually have some twists and turns and let Raven have her way with me. Going to need some grin aspirin later today, that's for sure! Got to A1A about an hour later and cruised north. Man! The ladies were already out in their skimpiest bikinis. Oops! Watch that car!

Kept heading up A1A and hit one of the prettiest spots in South Florida. Just above Hillsborough Inlet is a long section; huge trees that canopy the road with the Intercoastal Waterway on the left and huge mansions on the beach side. With the road all to myself, I let her loose and flew through there with fallen leaves scattering like birds behind me. Stopped a bit up the way to take some aspirin, have a smoke beside the beach, and watch the waves breaking while the pelicans air surfed the curls. Turned around and there she was, black and chrome, sparkling in the sun. Time to ride!!

Back on A1A, another spectacular section. Glimpses of the sparkling ocean through sea grape trees caught my eye every few seconds and made it hard to concentrate. Glad the traffic was nil. Got up to Palm Beach County and I decided to head west. Figured while I was up this way I might as well stop in at Palm Beach Triumph. Did so and as usual, a warm greeting by Bob & Marnie made me feel very welcome. Talked bikes for awhile but my eyes kept straying to the parking lot. She sure looked lonely out there! Said my goodbyes and took the back roads south. One of my favorites in this area is called Lyons Road. Very clean, not a lot of lights or traffic, and even some nice curves to play with. Definitely broke some speed limits.

Got back into Ft. Lauderdale and the real world started creeping back into my thoughts.... the fence needs repairing, the lawn needs mowing, work, wash the truck... AAARRRGGHHH!!! Alright already!! I begrudgingly forced the bars west and I could feel real resistance. I know, I know, I don't want to stop either. Sorry, girl.

I got home and my wife met me with open arms and a "Did you have a good ride?"

Dang it, I need more aspirin!

Good idea chy and great story from Bonnyusa

I like it!

A parked bike is a sad sight indeed.

In the two years and 6500 miles I have had my TBA its never been out of the state of Ohio, that all ended today. Maybe out of spite for the Risks and Responsibilty post, I decided for fathers day I wanted a road trip, didnt know where but needed to go on a nice long ride, so out of shear bullheadedness I thought you know what I dont need a helmet today either, rebel that I am.
So this morning we loaded up the bikes and my wife and son took off for who knows where. First road was route 303, going east its a boring straight road that I bet the sport bikes could get in a lot of trouble on. The only excitment was the Idiot who didnt where his helmet was getting belted with every bug known to man, but hay Im a rebel (curse you Friar John)
We come to the end of 303 and head toward Warren Ohio on rt 82 , rock hits me in the face (Johns Fault )
Zig zag into Warren Ohio and still do not have a clue where to go, so at a gas stop I see a Sharon Pa sign about 35 miles away. I tell Suzie lets go to The orignal Quaker Steak and Lube So we take the Route 82 toward Sharon now 82 is a 65 mile and hour highway and there is a Idiot on a Triumph with no helmet (has to be Friar Johns fault)
Bike rides great, Suzies bike handle the road fantastic and my kid is singing for me as we travel at 70 mph toward where wings begin , mean time im being pelted with every formally alive bug know to man what a appetizer!!!
Roads smooth,we head on into beautiful downtown Sharon PA
and it is no longer a Ohio only Virgin. Pull up to Quaker Steak and pull into the bike parking aera and what do we see ? A mulberry TBA, could not find the rider but the bike looked good.
Ate a great meal (maybe bugs add to the flavor) walked around, it was cool to see the non corporate first one.
Headed back home more bugs more things hitting my forehead but I showed him!!!
It was a very good fathers day ride, but you know what Wear the helmet, things hitting your face at 70 mph just is not the way to stay awake on the road or better yet to prove a point!!!!

Chris, drive around the bugs and eat the grasshoppers, they have lots of protein.

Got out for about 80 miles today. Excuse was to test out the new glasses my daughter gave me. Hot, hot, hot, but worth every minute. Little traffic in the hill country north of San Antonio. Hated to come home. (Attire on the ride intentionally omitted to avoid the clothing police)

yaknow, the bike always runs better with no red lights and no schedule. Funny how that works.

Last Year (2005) I took a trip from Fla, to New York. Side trip into Canada. Came home Through St Louis. Plan to write about it some day.Dealer in State College, Pa. is super.

"The Lube" used to have a great Bike Nite on Wednesdays in the summer. I am not sure what it's like now, but a few years ago all three bars rock'd & hundreds of bikes were there.

The original Lube is much better than the franchise.

Congrats on breaking your intra-state cherry!!

I was 16 and felt I could lick the world. I had the formula for starting my bike down to a T, school was out and I had remembered to go to the office and get a summer work permit in time and they even refered me to a part time job in a local TV shop. I was making decent money, made over a grand for the rest of the year, more than enough to have bought a new bike if I'd wanted to. I could have even bought a new Harley for that.
It was Saturday morning and the owner of the shop had let me know that he was going to be out of town for the weekend and the shop would be closed. So, I hiked over to my friends house where the Velocette was hidden, (parents didn't approve of motorcycles, especially after my stepfather broke his shin trying to start someones Indian while he had been drinking) rolled it out and started the startup. Right gas tap on, touch the tickler, let go when gas comes out the hole in the top of the float bowl. Now starts the Velo part. Kick the engine over slowly to the bottom of the compression stroke. Squeeze the compression release and kick slowly to the top of compression. Retard the spark, turn on the switch and kick really hard. There were few people in the world who could get a leg over a bike that weighed enough to kick a Velo 500 through compression, and I certainly wasn't among the chosen few back then.
I had to take the long way out of the area to make sure I wasn't seen by the wrong people. Out past the Starlight drivein, then down to Valley Blvd and west. On a whim, I turned left onto Garvey and found myself pulling into Ed Kretz motorcycles. Ed was well known for racing Indians and an occasional Triumph since as far back as anyone could remember. At one time, he and Sam Pariot had setup a semi official raceway south of where I lived so the locals could race without the hazards of doing it on the streets.
Now, I liked my Velocette well enough, but being a big lunger, it vibrated just a little too much and that was interfering with my social life. I walked into the shop, admired the new bikes, went out in the shed on the side to look at the used ones, and way in the back, there it was! I forgot to breath! Long, low and black with TT style pipes and a sprung solo seat! Ed jr, the guy who helped me get the Velo walked up and all I could do was point. I was afraid it was an illusion and it would go away if I spoke.
"Oh, that Triumph in the back. We built that for the original owner, it's a '49 Trophy but we built it into a 650 with dual Amals and really hot cams. I figure it's good for 58 - 60 horses, not bad for a bike that started with 34. (might have been 32 or 36 or even 28, I was too excited to listen close) Your Vello still in good shape?"
All I could do was nod, hard, almost broke my bloody head off.
"Tell you what. I was wanting to get at least $375 for it, but if your Velo is in as good condition as it looks, I'll trade for it and $75 cash."
At that point, Ed jr became my best friend ever and hero to boot. He knew very well I had paid $200 for the Velo 2 years before, and he was giving me $300 for it. Needless to say, a little while later I was on my way to Stans drivein to show off my new hotrod Triumph.
It was a lot faster on paved roads and vibrated a lot less. It could easily climb the steepest hill that I dared try at the oil field. The only dissapointment was that I could never quite top my best time with the Velo on a back trail. I guess there were advantages to that odd looking swingarm.

sweet images...do you have any photos of that old Trump lying around?

With the 16th being my birthday, my wife had reserved a couple of cabins up in Tellico Plains Tennessee (Cherohala Motorcycle resort) for a couple of nights. We left out of Hiram (Atlanta) on Sunday morning around 7, and enjoyed a 3 hour ride through North Georgia, into Tennessee on Hiway 411. I was on my '05 TBA, and my wife was on her 1981 Honda CB650, that has had a charging problem for quite awhile, so I took along a fresh battery, just in case. We arrived at the resort and met up with another couple, as planned, unpacked our bikes, and had breakfast at a local diner in downtown Tellico Plains, then rode up the Cherohala Skyway to about 5000 feet. The temps dropped about 15 degrees, and felt great, compared to the 94 degree heat back at sea level. The next day, we endured the heat and traffic of Gatlinburg / Pigeon Forge, which was nearly unbearable. We opted for a cold one at "crawdaddy's" in Gatlinburg, then headed back to Tellico, which was one of the most spectacular rides yet! We seen an old fashioned "tent meeting" revival going on in the outskirts of Maryville, an old drive in movie that was still in business, and an old "A&W" root beer drive in that we could'nt resist. I'll give the entire trip about a 9, just because of the intense heat....Check out Cherohala motorcycle resort. They have 8 new cabins, new bath and showers, and very reasonable prices. Will be going back before winter sets in...

Yes here in State College, PA The Quaker Steak and Lube has Wednesday night Bike night. They have a real nice Buffet for $5.99. Can't beat it! Our local Triumph Dealer gave away a 2006 Bonneville and there will be somemore as the season goes on. I think there is a HD of some kind being raffled off now. Doesn't cost anything just register, when you show up.

Some great stories here, I liked Greybeards he told a great story and made it seem you were there with him, great memories.

today i met The Prince of Purple Fashion Passion--he told me in no uncertain terms, "are you a Biker? You look like a Biker." hmmm, must be in the way i walk. though according to Prince Barney, we, "all look alike." oh, so that's what it is. well, i was in northampton, Mass. a very tolerant/diverse town.

headed up rte. 10 from New Haven, Ct. to northampton. with sections of crowded road littered with traffic lights and suburban saturday shoppers to corn fields and tobacco farms; it's cool to see where and how far one road(other than an interstate) can take you. had i started out earlier, there is a good chance i would have followed rte 10 to vermont, just because it's there--and isn't that one of the best reasons to ride?

finally new england had a break in the thick heavy weather of summer and it was dry and cool in the wind. hearing the cool air rumble of the engine, as opposed to the, hot air driven thumpa thumpa, made me long for the riding days of autumn and knowing that NorEast is less than 40 days away made the whole experience even sweeter.

i love this ride. nimble at slow speeds. agile in the sloping turns and super tight twisities and i thrive on the rush of hitting the open slab in 4th gear--not quite red lining at...errr, ummm, let's just say, fast (don't want to bring the speeding ticket demons back out of hiding), and the smooth deceleration to exit ramp speed, followed by a gentle stop and enormous grin.

if i were a kid in school(but a grown up kid--like i am now) and had to write the perennial, "what i did on my summer vacation" essay, today would be the day to write about.

shari

You can call this one a tale of determination, or maybe just
teenage hormones. I was sixteen, and my parents and my buddy
Terry's parents were out for the night. Terry tells me he has set up a double date for us with two girls that lived 20
miles away. Now this is in Wisconsin, in Febuary, but we had a slight warming spell, and it had gotten all the way up to zero. Well, Pop took the keys to the rental car with him (no flies on him) and a friend who was willing to be a taxi blew his car up on the way over. In the garage, however, was a Honda CB125S.
Terry's description of the girls had made up my mind and soon we were on the road, each wearing about a foot of closet. After about 10 miles, the cold had seeped through all 3 pairs of my jeans and my long johns as well, but there
were girls at the end of the ride, so we kept on. Then coming over a snowy hill, the back tire blew. At about 50mph. The next 10 seconds were probably the best job of riding I've ever done. Or the luckiest, I don't know, but I kept it out of the snowdrift. I turned to Terry and said, "I don't think we're meant to see these girls." It was a nice laugh, but we were stuck in Boondock,WI with a flat. An old 'Street and Trail Rider' article came to the rescue and we stuffed weeds inside the tire to give it some shape and limp home. It worked all right, 15mph, the back end shaking from one side to the other, me with a death-grip
on the bars. When we got home, Terry had to pry my hands off
the grips, I couldn't let go. Looking back almost 3 decades later I have to say- hell yes, I'd do it again.

In April of 2000 I made a trip to North Vietnam to engage in some controversial high risk activities. One element of the work I was involved in on the trip got me arrested. Now for the sake of not detracting from the motorcycle aspect of this story I will leave the rest of this story to rest at this point and convey and ally any fears that though my activities were illegal in a Communist nation, they are NOT illegal in the US or the majority of the free world. That part of the story will remain closed.


My adventures in Hanoi, North Vietnam were multi faceted and I could never have planned for a single one, nor would I have traded them for a moment, having walked and rode through them. But at the time, it was more than I thought I could handle yet some how managed to plod my way through.

I encountered two separate adventures on my scooter that as a grown man and an accomplished motorcyclist with 30+ years of experience, I would never have thought I would do.

In the Mountain areas north of Hanoi in the city of Sa Pa and Lao Cai near the China - North Vietnam border, I had the opportunity to spend an entire day riding on a rather interesting scooter called a Minsk, a Russian made single cylinder, two cycle gutless piece of machinery. Given choices anywhere else in the world, I would have declined. But hey! I was in North Vietnam!

The winding roads from the mountain top, to the drive to the valley below, we encountered a spectacular view and navigation of this remote region. It was incredible!



I need to paint a picture of the main roads here. 11 feet wide and drivers take what they want (or need) for a majority of the roads are cut into the side of a mountain, there was maybe, if you were lucky, 24" of shoulder that dropped abruptly off in to nothing. At least from my perspective a 500 ft drop is close to nothing! Now at a particular spot in the road, the folks I was traveling with decided to stop and gander at this un-official "Over look". All I could say was, "WOW". Problem was that after I saw what was below the shoulder, I was not able to get back on my bike for fear I was going to be sucked off the planet into that "nothingness" which was actually full of every kind of rock and bolder, but the air between was what was so disconcerting!

I walked the scooter for about a half a city block, repeating to myself, "I don't need 11 feet of road to ride a bike, I don't need 11 feet of road to ride a bike!"

My courage slowly embraced my heart again and straddle my ride and with great fortitude and boldness did I also pull over for every on coming mountain vehicle! An 8 foot wide truck seems like it occupies all of the 11 foot road at this elevation. I am certain now, it was all an illusion generated by the high altitude!

But survive it I did! Now for a city adventure in beautiful downtown Hanoi! Having never been in an Asian city, my sense of "normal" is somewhat skewed and western based. Having traveled and lived in Europe during my tenure in the US Navy, living for two years in Italy, having traveled in Spain and France, I thought I had seen all that could be deemed by American sensibilities as "crazy driving". Even NYC could not have prepared me (and it did not) for what lay ahead of me in Hanoi!

While we had been up in the mountains, the Airlines had tried to contact me about my missing luggage. My presence was going to be required to advance the cause of rejoining me with my luggage. A scooter ride to the Airline office was required and my friend afforded me the transportation and that his 15 year old daughter would drive me. I responded, "The heck! I am not riding behind no 15 year old on a Scooter!" After all, how tough could it be? A lot tougher than I thought!

There is no way that words can describe traffic in Hanoi. These guys go into intersections and no one stops they just...flow. Ever see The new Star War's Movies and the space traffic in the city? The place where Anakin Skywalker jumps out of the vehicle and plummets between multilevel of three dimensional traffic narrowly avoiding collisions? Well, it was just like that! I don't know how they do it but they do. It was clear in the span of two city blocks that I was an accident statistic waiting to happen, that clearly, the "Force" was not guiding me and I was a hindrance and an obstacle to that flow! I pulled over and let the girl drive!

Yes, I stuffed my pride in my socks, got on behind her and white knuckled the luggage rack and closed my eyes because I could not watch. Now I am not afraid of many things in this life, especially when it comes to motorcycles, heck I can climb boulders with one!


Yep, I was worse than a little girl! Never drove another scooter in that town again!

Now the adventures of the motorcycles may sound humiliating to some, maybe even right out there but they paled in comparison to what I encountered in this country. I could go on, but this was about on the road and I'll leave it there.

Great story Eddy!
Now ... having whetted our appetites with a phrase like "That part of the story will remain closed.", you have to tell us about your activities out there.

I won’t belabor the ride up from Ft. Liquordale; suffice it to say that it took 16 friggin hours instead of the normal 13 thanks to traffic/wrecks/idiots around Atlanta. We left at 3AM on Friday, October 13th and had hoped to get there before dark which of course did not happen.

We were staying in Gatlinburg over the weekend and I had arranged for a storage facility for the bike to use while we were up on Mt. LeConte. We went by the hotel first to ensure our room and then went to the storage place. I figured why not put the bike up for the night there? Freezing friggin cold (about 37), I’m out there getting her untied from the trailer and back on her feet. Turn on the key, let her sit a bit, hit the starter. Wrrrr, click, click. You have got to be SH!TTING me!!!!?!?!? Nope, tried again, battery is deader than roadkill. Grrrrr. Stick everything in the storage bay and head back to the hotel. Deal with it tomorrow.

Back at the hotel, we get unpacked and settled…… Oh, I forgot to mention something. Turns out, someone we all know is here in Gatlinburg. Funny thing is, he’s staying at the same hotel and dangit, staying in the room next door! Yes, my friends. The Yota is in Gatlinburg! He and his 6 year old son Ethan drove down to play and coincidentally, we were there too! Crap, now I gotta hang with Yota I crack open the Evans as it’s been a long day and Yota comes over with a jar of his homemade moonshine. Pretty friggin tasty but I can tell that a little too much of that and I am NOT getting up in the morning! I stick to the Evans and Yota’s over there sucking down the shine like honeydew vine water!

Woke up on Saturday to crisp temps and the knowledge I had a dead bike. Found Yota and with one eye open, he says “I know where there’s a bike shop in town” so we all go and collect the battery (tried it one more time, still click-click) and head to the shop. Guy has ONE non-Harley battery and tells me he doesn’t even know why he has this battery. I knew why. Call it fate but that battery was meant for me. He fills it with the acid and starts charging it. So much for riding over the mountains. We all go get breakfast and by the time that’s done, it’s mid-morning and the roads are packed with tourists. We decide to spend the day walking around Gatlinburg. So here’s me and Janet and Yota and his son wandering here and there doing the tourist thing. We decide to ride the gondola (Ober Gatlinburg) up to the top of one of the mountains. This car holds 120 people and they are very busy this time of year so you know there are 120 people in the car. We get near the top and Yota is giving us that goofy smile and I know something is up. That’s about the time I start having trouble breathing due to a noxious odor wafting about! I am trying to breathe, laugh, and not barf on the little girl in front of me. We hit the top and everyone is VERY happy to get off!
This guy behind me says "what was THAT smell?"
I say (pointing to Yota) "him"
Guy says "no way"
I say “I’m afraid so”
Yota standing there grinning!
Sigh………

We spent some time up top, all the while in that noxious cloud. Poor Ethan, six years old and about the right height if you get my meaning. At one point he exclaimed “Daddy! What have you been eating!?” I thought I was going to fall off the mountain laughing! We had to go back down soon and I threatened to cut off vital parts if Yota didn’t control himself. I knew that wouldn’t work but I felt better with the threat. Fortunately, nothing happened on the way down, much to Yota’s chagrin! It’s after 3PM now, so we go get the battery and Raven fires right up. No more storage crap for her!! Yota had to head out at this time so we said our goodbyes (and good riddance! ) and parted. Had a nice little ride back to the hotel as traffic was uncharacteristically light on the Gatlinburg bypass! Janet and I thought about riding a bit but with the traffic, forget it. Another thing happened during the day. I managed to aggravate and old ACL injury so by the time the day was over, my knee was killing me. Remember this part….

Sunday turned out to be a beautiful day! A little cool with light winds and no clouds. We decide to take a ride and just to see if Janet has enough warm gear on so we go up to the Roaring Fork Motor Nature Trail. I remembered it as a really pretty five mile loop very close to the hotel. Got near it and of course, it was jammed with cars. Rode well behind one of those diesel F350s (spewing fumes) with the fifth wheel in the bed. Got all the way up to 5MPH. We were able to shortcut the trip and got the heck out of there. We needed gas and as I now was armed with a city map, we were able to get to the gas station at the entrance to the national park. Had to wait 10 minutes due to so many people trying to get gas and all that time waiting and while I was fueling, I watched the traffic going into the park. The car that was on the road right in front of me when I got to the station had moved about 50 feet by the time I was ready to roll. Sigh….. I looked at Janet and she gave me one of those ‘don’t even think about it’ looks and I said “we are done riding in Gatlinburg” We took the back way to the hotel and I locked Raven up. We decided to go to Pigeon Forge to look for boots and a new leather riding jacket for Janet. Even with the back way, it took over an hour to go the 6-7 miles. We did manage to find a nice heavy, lined jacket though. Finished there and spent another hour and a half getting back. OK, now we were done DRIVING around Gatlinburg!!! We walked back into town, got some dinner (yep, it took ALL day to accomplish nothing) at a great little Italian place and then walked around seeing the sights. Just like yesterday, my knee was killing me by the time we got back to the hotel. As you may remember, we were heading up the mountain in the morning on a fairly strenuous hike to the top of Mt. LeConte. I’ve been called many things but never stupid. I had to make the decision to blow off the trip up the mountain so we decided to head up to Banner Elk, NC the next morning instead. Remember this now…….

Monday morning, it’s cooler and overcast. Looks like it’s going to rain later so instead of waiting until mid-morning, we rush the packing and head out early. Headed up 321 (nice road) to 19E (anther nice road), to 194 (outstanding road!) into Banner Elk. Took about 4 hours and just as I am getting off the bike at the condo, here comes the rain. We rush the unpacking, got a little wet but who cares. I am high and dry now! So I start doing some work around the place (don’t want this to get in the way later in the week!) and I get a call from Yota. He says did you hear about the winds around Gatlinburg? Huh? Watched the weather channel and there was nothing on. Chalked it up to Yota being Yota!

Tuesday. Cold, raining, dreary. Worked on the condo all day…..

Wednesday. Nice again but cold. Woke up to temps in the mid-30s. We waited until 11am and headed out. Janet nice and toasty in her new jacket! Rode 105 to 221 to the Blue Ridge Parkway. We were there in peak leaf season and was it ever beautiful. Trees aflame with every color you can imagine. Rode the Parkway up to Boone and then came back down the other end of 194 (what a great snake of a road!!). Get back to the condo and got to talk to some relatives who were in Cherokee on the previous couple of nights. It turns out that yes, very high winds (they saw a report of OVER 100MPH on the top of wherever they reported from), trees were down all over the place in the park, and they closed the friggin road over the mountain (441)!!! The reports were that it might take a couple of days to clear it!!! Holy crap!! Janet and I looked at each other, she looked at my knee, and I looked my knee. I then said some bad words and then told Janet “you owe me! If I hadn’t blown my knee out, we’d be up on that mountain somewhere probably not able to get down, and freezing my you know whats off!!!” Well, that didn’t’ work. In the back of my mind, I was shooting for a big bore….. Gotta try a different tack!

Thursday. See Tuesday, sigh…..

Friday. See Tuesday, sigh…..

Saturday. Finally some good riding weather! Clear and cold and I did wait a bit but out I went. Janet was doing festivals with the relatives so I got to RIDE! Did about 300 miles through some of the finest riding country ever. Sweepers, hairpins, straight-aways through fire tunnels of trees, switchbacks, reduced radius turns that would make even Chy grin! I was loving it! Freezing my butt off but loving every minute! Sadly, time was ticking away and as we were heading home very early in the morning and I had a lot of preparations to make, I turned towards ‘home’.

Sunday. Heading home…… Left at 4:15AM and luckily, no fog. It would have dictated another route. We took 221 down to I40 to I85 to the Charlotte bypass (I485?) to I26 to I95. Made really good time even though it rained all the way to southern GA. Rain cleared up and we were finally in Florida. It was even warming up! Coming through SC, GA, and into FL, I noticed a crapload of bikes coming north. Started seeing truck, cars, and RVs pulling bike trailers. What the heck is going on?? It then dawned on me that Biketoberfest was getting over and all I could think of was the traffic south of Daytona. Sigh….. Well, we were committed to I95 so damn the torpedoes…. 4 traffic snarls (4 wrecks, two real bad, one with bikes involved) and 3.5 hours later, we were almost to Ft. Pierce and about 100 miles from home. WooHoo!! Got on the Turnpike as I figured less people would pay to drive. Boy was I mistaken. It was bumper to bumper at 75MPH and lots of idiots trying to go faster. A recipe for disaster and it didn’t take long before we were again stopping because of another crash. Only took an hour to clear this one and finally arrived home 17 hours after starting. A long, long day but I was happy to be home. The worst part? I left my friggin gas on and it got sucked out and sprayed all over the K&Ns, the swingarm, tire, chain, darn near everywhere south of the carbs. Cleaned, cleaned, cleaned. I am also not going to ride until I get a chance to change the oil…

Sounds like a bad trip, right? I'd do it again in a heartbeat!!

Phil,

Reading this was a great way to start my day (I just woke up 20 minutes ago).
Thank you!

Now you'll have me day-dreaming all day.

Dang Phil... sounds like a mountain adventure to me. Thanks for the report, it was a good read.

Quote:

---

I’ve been called many things but never stupid. I had to make the decision to blow off the trip up the mountain so we decided to head up to Banner Elk, NC the next morning instead

---

Trust me bum knee or not you made the right decision.
Sorry I missed all the fun
Mike

Is this the grin?



Besides the mustard gas attack (against the Geneva convention) sounds like a great time.

Eerily close!!

thanks for sharing this, Phil. vivid and multi sensory to say the least.

Funny, I remember seeing that exact same grin on Leatherface in "Texas Chainsaw Massacre"...

In the 60 or so miles between Dahlonega nad Toccoa Ga.... my daughter and mines idea of entertainment....
That's a church every 1.3(give or take) miles.

My daughter and I took a ride over to my uncles today for a little pre Thanksgiving get together. We took my car up cause it's kinda cold out today and we figured on bringing home food anyway. The visit was great and so were the vittles but the ride up and down was a bit of a drag.. woulda been bunches better on the bike.

As we were riding along in the comfort of the SS.. radio playing, good conversation, cozy temps.. I can't help but notice the difference in the mountains, the houses, the scenery I had enjoyed so much on my previous trips up as we ride along safely encased in our shell.
I had entertained the idea of riding the bike up today and would have if Angie hadn't decided to come along, and I couldn't help thinking how much more "real" for lack of a better word, everything feels on a bike. You don't just see it.. you feel it, smell it.. experience it.. more like a participant than an observer. It changes the same view from "Hey.. isn't that cool!" to "wow!"

Funny how easy it is to forget what drives us to this thing we love. Out there on the road, exposed to the elements, the cold, the rain, the soccer moms and the psychobikerkillers. But theres no other feeling like it anywhere.... In the wind.. free.. that's what it's about isn't it? call it what you want but that's it... that's the feeling... freedom..

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But theres no other feeling like it anywhere.... In the wind.. free.. that's what it's about isn't it? call it what you want but that's it... that's the feeling... freedom..

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a gift.

alive.

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a gift.. alive

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indeed..

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whatnoiseannoysanoisyoyster?

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whatnoiseannoysanoisyoyster?

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thesamesoundoverandover?

I went to the Florida Rally last week, it was my first but definitely not my last. I could only go for the Lap O' The Lake, but the people I met were like old friends. After I got home, I realized the wildest time of the trip was getting there and finding the group.

I got a late start,(suprise) and had to make up time. I jumped on the Florida T-pike and the first tankfull lasted 106 miles. In 66 minutes. With 4 toll plazas thrown in. I got to the park in Okeechobee and it was deserted. Then I guy runs out of a store saying, "You just missed them, they left 4 minutes ago." Well it should be easy to catch a group of 20 bikes, right? I get to the lake and it's a T intersection, nobody in sight, can't hear a sound. I figured they would go around the east side first, it's more open, more fun. Little did I know that the lunch stop was down the west side. So I go down the east side like I'm qualifying for the Isle of Man. I keep thinking, they're just ahead, a little more. I made it to Pahokee, halfway around the lake, in half an hour. Mark later said it was 40 miles. I had to slow down then for the city, and after three quarters of the way around the lake, I gave up. I was hungry, so I stopped at KFC. As I'm waiting in line, I hear, "Is that your Speedmaster? We have about 9 of them and 10 Bonneville Americas in our group."

I turn around, "Okie?" I turns out Mark saw me and banged a u-turn (leaving everyone else to find the restaurant the hard way). So it must have been fate. I had a great time but that riding slowly in a group business takes some getting used to. Now I have to figure out how to get away to the Georgia Rally. Thanks to Mark, Phil, Mert, the Yutes, and everyone else my speed-addled brain can't remember. You guys made me feel right at home.
Brian.

This is the post that Staffo requested. Let 'er rip, Talespinners.

BrianT and everyone else, this thread is just what I was after. Chy, great minds think alike buddy. Your original idea has allowed some great stories to be told so far, and thanks to bonnyusa, stern, greybeard, b717, briant and eddy for sharing some of your adventures.

I've now saved this thread so that if it disappears down the list, I'll be able to resurrect it when I'm ready to tell of one of my Aussi riding adventures. As I've mentioned previously me and a mate are doing a week's riding starting Monday week so I'll take some pics and tell the tale just a bit later down the track. Thanks again

Duty, Honor , Country

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 “sporty”. 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?

Great read... shoulda yelled when you came through D town..

I left out one of my favorite parts of the ride. In Chy's hometown the highway was lined on both sides with white crosses topped with American flags. Each cross had the name and conflict served of a local citizen. It made me feel very proud to be an American. It seemed that every able bodied man in Dahlonega must've signed up and served in WWII there were just so many crosses for such a small town. It wasa a very nice tribute and I'll remember it.

The local VFW does that for memorial day.. very nice tribute for sure.

Nice story Ed. Enjoyed reading it!