The message light was flashing on our answering machine when I got back home after taking my wife out to dinner to celebrate our 33rd anniversary. I had fretted over the likelihood missing Moe's call when he came through on his "Texas Fly 'n Ride" adventure and it had actually happened, I'd missed the call. A frantic post on the forums and a PM later and I had his cell number but, alas, no answer.
Assuming he was still inbound I left a message and waited for a callback. Around 10:00pm or so, sure enough, there's Moe on the phone calling from west Brimingham and slightly off the beaten track. After consulting Google maps and using the hybrid feature to determining which side of the street he was on I attempt to describe an easy path to I-59 and he's off to find a motel; we have a date for the next morning.
I have to admit after 30 years in show business I'm pretty jaded but the prospect of actually meeting my very first "Triumph guy" had me very excited. And slightly nervous, what if I didn't meet his "British biker" standards? After all, my first encounter is going to be with a famed (notorious?) board moderator, don't want to come across as some kind of "poser" to one of the real cats.
I woke early to an overcast morning, got up and prepared a quick breakfast complete with a large quantity of coffee and googled for directions to the Barber Museum, memorized the route and waited for the phone to ring. And ring it does, Moe found a not-so-new Days Inn and is somewhat rested and ready; I tell him he's about 90 minutes or so away and then in a furry of activity I gather my camera, rain jacket and dash to the shop where a Green '04 TBA awaits a preflight check. Check the tires, visually scan looks good, tug the handlebars, bounce the forks, everything looks and feels correct. Dang, 59 miles on the odometer tells me I need to top off; thankfully the nearest fuel is on the way right at the entrance to I-59. Alright then, we're off.
As I clear the entrance to our farm I look down the road and through the gap you see the mist rising from Lookout Mountain as if it were on fire. The overcast morning is a blessing as the air is cool and just a little damp making the 2 mile run to the gas station surprisingly brisk. A quick top off and I realize the odometer is at 7000.1 miles; that means I've put on an average of 800 miles a month since I put the tags on her, not much by some standards but to me it's a lot considering a 5 day a week job and couple of periods of Seattle-esqe rainy spells. And I'm off in pursuit of my very first face-to-face meeting with another Triumph rider.
The first leg is south down I-59 and it is a very unforgiving stretch. At one point between home and Gadsden I begin to believe I've either blown a front tire or my front fork spring install has gone very wrong as the bike is hopping violently and, oh, do I miss my 412 rear shocks! Then, the pavement changes color and we're stabilized again and it's smooth sailing; the interstate wasn't my first choice but time constraints dictate going as far as possible as fast as possible and this is the weekend of the "World's Longest Yard Sale" clogging my favorite mountain paths with heedless pedestrians and very sloppy cagers. After all, Moe has quite a distance yet to cover and I don't want to hold him up.
The second leg takes me off the interstate and onto US Hwy 231, smooth sailing and a rapid approach to Leeds where Moe awaits at the Days Inn. The day is beginning to do that "dog days of August" slow roast that Alabama is noted for and I want to capture Moe before its unbearable. After a quick jaunt on I-20 west I arrive at the motel which apparently is under renovation and looks well used (okay, maybe a little dumpy); he's already out of the room in the parking lot looking over his newest acquisition, a lovely Cardinal Red TBA. I meet my very first Triumph and owner and it's good. After a nice chat, his gear is on, he checks out and we're off to the Barber Museum. Another first for me, this is great!
After a quick fill up and some dead reckoning navigation by Moe we're cruising up the grand entrance to the Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum. It's beyond my expectations, every make model and type of motorized cycle you can imagine and 5 floors of displays...the guard tells us it's best to go up the elevator and work our way down, so we do.
Almost 4 hours later we've seen Excelsiors, Ariels, Matchless, BSA, AJ, Vincents and HRDs, BMWs, Hendersons, Whizzers, and countless others including a Reading-Standard that I've only ever read about but never seen in modern photographs. Add in the obligatory (and magnificent) American and Japanese standards and it's just overwhelming.
But, it's the Triumphs, the Nortons and a Norvin and a Triton that hold me enthralled. The "Holy Grail" 1938 Speed Twin from which our modern Hinckley cycles so richly draw their tradition, my personal (but never attainable) favorite Vincent Black Shadow, the Norvin..trhat combination of the Norton featherbed frame and Vincent Black Shadow power and likewise the Triton, same frame with Triumph power and transmission, all combine to lift me to a level of Nirvana that I rarely attain these days. Man, have I got the fever now to build a retro Thruxton Cafe Race on a modern chassis. Wonder if hardwood floors and a new kitchen will aid the quest? Ah, but I digress...
It's mid afternoon and the heat index whacks us with a body slam when we exit the museum. It's right back in to the AC with Moe's maps to set his route to Chy's; my plan is to lead him to the AL/GA border and send him on a nice two lane run to Dahalonega. I really enjoy the fact he puts his route notes on a business card like I do for easy access at traffic stops, maybe I'm not such a poser after all. There's a convenient Chevron at the museum exit where I top off and we set sail toward the eastern border of Alabama, trying all the while to run two/four land non-interstate roads.
The heat rises from the road like a paint stripping gun, coming and going in blast furnace strength waves. At one point on the other side of Oxford we climb a small hill where the steam is rising from a recent thunder shower, the air is cool and the mist feels great on my cheeks below my goggles. It doesn't last, but the sky is overcast now and the heat is just blasting from the roadbed and not from Ol' Sol above as well. Poor Moe, I can see him in the rearview, stretching and twisting each limb trying to stay loose and the rough sections of Hwy 78 are really abusing him; meanwhile, my butt is reviewing the stock vs 412 shock swap and I'm really getting beat from having sent my too-short 4254s off before getting the new proper 4253s. At least the front springs are doing their job very well.
Then, all-too-soon we're at the fuel stop in Gaylesville, AL (pop. 14) and it's time to propel Moe on his way down Hwy 68 toward Summerville, then on to Dahlonega and Chy's extra room. as I ride north-west over Lookout Mountain even the light sprinkling of rain doesn't dampen my spirits; I got to ride my first 120 miles ever with another Triumph after spending most of the day with a great guy in motorcycle Nirvana. Just doesn't get much better than that. Ride safe Moe, and, thanks!
