When I lived in Georgia and was married to my first wife, I spent an entire year riding a motorcycle daily. I bought the bike in April of 2001 and rode it daily until October of 2002 when my divorce took place. I learned a lot that year, firstly that my ex-wife was much better as an ex, but mainly that I enjoyed riding a lot. In that year alone, I racked up 18,000 miles on a 2001 Yamaha R6. Whether it was raining or sleeting, I rode the bike to work everyday and then to the mountains on the weekend when weather permitted.
After my divorce, I had to sell the bike to keep my finances together. I bought another bike a couple of years later, but that was for track use and I never rode it on the streets really. I sold it before moving to Richmond and haven't had a permanent bike since about 2004 until this last year when I bought the Beamer.
As the weather has shifted to cold, I've not had a chance to ride. In fact, the bike has sat in my garage for the better part of 2 months. I start it up here and there to keep it from killing the battery and gumming up the fuel lines, but the last "ride" I got to take was in October when I rode down the VCU and back. Yee-haw.
Thursday, the new issue of my BMW MOA magazine came in the mail and as I flipped through it, I had the urge to ride. Seeing as the temperature was about 30 degrees in the west end Friday morning, that was pretty much out of the question without me getting up at 6, suiting up and riding to work. I instead opted to drive home at lunch when the temperature was in the low 50's, meaning I would be able to wear less clothing and take less time to get ready.
I had forgotten how much cold weather riding can be. While 50-51 isn't super cold, it's pretty chilly on a bike. I wore my jacket with the inside layer zipped in, my polar-tec gloves and jeans (as it was jeans day at work). The ride home was fun as I had forgotten to wear my Arai with a clear shield and instead wore my AGV with a smoke shield. Half of the trip was done with the shield up so I could see in front of the bike in the dark.
Car drivers are stupid (mostly) when the weather is perfect. Give them darkness and their IQ drops like a Kardashians clothes when money is involved. I need to take a cold weather trip outside of Richmond, not straight down into the city. Hopefully, this winter will give me some more chances to actually ride and enjoy what cold weather has to offer.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
A general rant regarding pretty much everything...
I write this stupid blog because it's a good way for me to blow off steam and be, in my way, creative at times. I don't do it for attention and I don't do it to sound smart or act smart. Most of what I say and think is usually kneejerk and that is a stupid way to be. But it's me, always has been and always will be. I have a few things I want to rant about because it will just make me feel better to write it out and not sit on it anymore. I'm foul mouthed and I try really hard when using social media to tone that down. I am certain that the foul mouth is also a very deep part of me so it pains me to censor myself at times, but in this case, I might be more readable if I do. Just so you know because if you keep reading past this, I might drop a few bad words here and there. IF you don't like that, then don't read it. That's not meant to be pissy sounding, it's meant to be true.
Traffic. Really Richmond? Honestly? A few stop lights go out and all of a sudden, your driving IQ (which was never high to begin with) drops from a sub-human level to that of a bacteria. Stop lights that are not lit up because of power failure become 4 way stops. When you get to the light first, you go first. When you get there last, you are last. How is this hard? Why is this so difficult? I cannot count the number of times people have blown through the light and nearly hit me. I can't count it because in 4 days, I've lost track from the trauma. It's not a joke, I'm seriously peeved. I had a boyfriend offer to throw down with me today because his girlfriend blew through the stoplight at Monument and Horsepen, nearly hitting me. She was inches from my bumper and acted as though she didn't see me. When I gave her the horn, the finger and dropped the F-bomb and the C-bomb MULTIPLE times out my window, the boyfriend offered to fight me. Because his idiot girlfriend, devoid of intelligence and accountability, very nearly took me out, it's my fault. Sure, some of you might say I shouldn't have yelled...whatever. Had it happened to you, you would have been just as angry. I happen to be of the orientation that I don't let people run over me, literally and figuratively, so I told her what I thought. Where was a police officer to stop warn her or ticket her? No where, so I exacted my revenge. It made me feel better and it pointed her out as being the stupid-ass who doesn't deserve a license. I learned to drive in Georgia, the stupid capital of the driving world. Seriously, I think Richmond has captured the title. Honest.
Cyclists. I hate you. Period. When I see a car with a bumper sticker saying "Share the Road", I want to smash that persons window. Yet another group of people wanting some special rights that they are no way entitled to. Ok, bicyclists want to ride on the same roads as cars. In a subdivision, this makes sense. A cycle is capable of keeping up on the road when the speed limit is 25 mph...oh, wait, no it isn't. A bicyclist isn't capable of keeping with the flow of traffic ANYWHERE. How much fun is it when you get in a 45 mph zone like, I dunno, Monument Avenue, and there are several bikers riding in either lane going 10 mph? It's awesomeness is only eclipsed by their disregard for those behind them as evidenced by their continued path at the same speed as opposed to letting you by. Bicyclists are really good about stopping at stop signs and stop lights just like we are..oh wait, no they don't. They blow through them, and not at the rate cars do either. They look both ways and keep going...how many car drivers have you seen do that lately? Show of hands? I thought so. Bicyclists are fair and don't lane split, risking life and limb while riding between cars that are waiting at said stoplights..oh wait, yes they do. Out side of California, no other states allow lane splitting so the a-holes here in Richmond who love to ride by my car while I'm sitting still like I'm supposed to at a stop sign or light are breaking the law, just like they do when they blow through the light that is holding me up. I'm all about people riding bicycles. It's healthy, it's environmentally conscience and it's a load of fun. I'm just for these people being held to the same standard I'm being held to when I am in my car or on my motorcycle. Am I stereotyping cyclists? Is this my blog and my opinion? Why yes it is, and I reserve to right to generalize anyone and anything I want to. Call it small minded, I simply call it calling a spade a spade.
Family. Yes family. Who has a family member that, despite your attempts to make them happy or help them out, continue to shit on you? How about family that you go out of your way to help only to find them lacking the desire to help themselves? I am in the process of helping a family member now who, in the past, has shown very little inclination to help themselves in any way. What I've helped with is, by far and wide, enabling, and I know that, but this family member has others who depend on them so it's my duty to do what I can, when I can. This family member would rather be at home playing then here helping me to help them. It's sad and aggravating, but in the end, I have to do it because others depend on me to do it. I'm not just angry at this person, I'm disappointed.
Bullshit friends. I said it, yeah. Everyone has them. Mine's no different. I sold a friend a car dollie about 2 years ago with the agreement that, if he decided to sell, he would sell it back to me. He asked me to take some pictures of it today as I was picking it up to use it. When I e-mailed the pictures to him, I asked what he needed them for thinking insurance. He wrote back saying he was selling it and, to top it off, for 3 times what I sold it to him for. I gave him a great price 2 years ago because he was a friend and now, he not only completely screws me as far as a sale, he takes advantage of the break I gave him. I flip cars and know how the business goes. But how do you stick it to a friend like this guy has? It wasn't business when I sold him the dollie, it was a favor. What happened to honor?
There. I feel a little bit better. Not a lot, but some. I'll sleep on it and hope that things are better tomorrow. If I'm one thing, it's optimistic.
Traffic. Really Richmond? Honestly? A few stop lights go out and all of a sudden, your driving IQ (which was never high to begin with) drops from a sub-human level to that of a bacteria. Stop lights that are not lit up because of power failure become 4 way stops. When you get to the light first, you go first. When you get there last, you are last. How is this hard? Why is this so difficult? I cannot count the number of times people have blown through the light and nearly hit me. I can't count it because in 4 days, I've lost track from the trauma. It's not a joke, I'm seriously peeved. I had a boyfriend offer to throw down with me today because his girlfriend blew through the stoplight at Monument and Horsepen, nearly hitting me. She was inches from my bumper and acted as though she didn't see me. When I gave her the horn, the finger and dropped the F-bomb and the C-bomb MULTIPLE times out my window, the boyfriend offered to fight me. Because his idiot girlfriend, devoid of intelligence and accountability, very nearly took me out, it's my fault. Sure, some of you might say I shouldn't have yelled...whatever. Had it happened to you, you would have been just as angry. I happen to be of the orientation that I don't let people run over me, literally and figuratively, so I told her what I thought. Where was a police officer to stop warn her or ticket her? No where, so I exacted my revenge. It made me feel better and it pointed her out as being the stupid-ass who doesn't deserve a license. I learned to drive in Georgia, the stupid capital of the driving world. Seriously, I think Richmond has captured the title. Honest.
Cyclists. I hate you. Period. When I see a car with a bumper sticker saying "Share the Road", I want to smash that persons window. Yet another group of people wanting some special rights that they are no way entitled to. Ok, bicyclists want to ride on the same roads as cars. In a subdivision, this makes sense. A cycle is capable of keeping up on the road when the speed limit is 25 mph...oh, wait, no it isn't. A bicyclist isn't capable of keeping with the flow of traffic ANYWHERE. How much fun is it when you get in a 45 mph zone like, I dunno, Monument Avenue, and there are several bikers riding in either lane going 10 mph? It's awesomeness is only eclipsed by their disregard for those behind them as evidenced by their continued path at the same speed as opposed to letting you by. Bicyclists are really good about stopping at stop signs and stop lights just like we are..oh wait, no they don't. They blow through them, and not at the rate cars do either. They look both ways and keep going...how many car drivers have you seen do that lately? Show of hands? I thought so. Bicyclists are fair and don't lane split, risking life and limb while riding between cars that are waiting at said stoplights..oh wait, yes they do. Out side of California, no other states allow lane splitting so the a-holes here in Richmond who love to ride by my car while I'm sitting still like I'm supposed to at a stop sign or light are breaking the law, just like they do when they blow through the light that is holding me up. I'm all about people riding bicycles. It's healthy, it's environmentally conscience and it's a load of fun. I'm just for these people being held to the same standard I'm being held to when I am in my car or on my motorcycle. Am I stereotyping cyclists? Is this my blog and my opinion? Why yes it is, and I reserve to right to generalize anyone and anything I want to. Call it small minded, I simply call it calling a spade a spade.
Family. Yes family. Who has a family member that, despite your attempts to make them happy or help them out, continue to shit on you? How about family that you go out of your way to help only to find them lacking the desire to help themselves? I am in the process of helping a family member now who, in the past, has shown very little inclination to help themselves in any way. What I've helped with is, by far and wide, enabling, and I know that, but this family member has others who depend on them so it's my duty to do what I can, when I can. This family member would rather be at home playing then here helping me to help them. It's sad and aggravating, but in the end, I have to do it because others depend on me to do it. I'm not just angry at this person, I'm disappointed.
Bullshit friends. I said it, yeah. Everyone has them. Mine's no different. I sold a friend a car dollie about 2 years ago with the agreement that, if he decided to sell, he would sell it back to me. He asked me to take some pictures of it today as I was picking it up to use it. When I e-mailed the pictures to him, I asked what he needed them for thinking insurance. He wrote back saying he was selling it and, to top it off, for 3 times what I sold it to him for. I gave him a great price 2 years ago because he was a friend and now, he not only completely screws me as far as a sale, he takes advantage of the break I gave him. I flip cars and know how the business goes. But how do you stick it to a friend like this guy has? It wasn't business when I sold him the dollie, it was a favor. What happened to honor?
There. I feel a little bit better. Not a lot, but some. I'll sleep on it and hope that things are better tomorrow. If I'm one thing, it's optimistic.
Monday, August 22, 2011
The Meatball
It was with great anticipation that I took the Meatball down the Tail of the Dragon on Sunday. What's that you ask? What's what? The Meatball or the Dragon? Ah yes, read on and it will be explained.
I've been drawn to quirky, out of place cars since I was a kid. The Meatball is a 1990 Saab 900 Turbo, also referred to as a C900 for "Classic" 900 because it was the last of the Saab built 900's before GM came in and ruined everything. Since the car is Swedish (duh), it's the Meatball (double duh). I bought it for $450, drove it home and have since done little to it other than have the paint restored, a wheel bearing replaced, new(ish) tires, a tune-up(sort of) and the a/c sorted. I bought it with 150,000 miles on it from the son of the original owner and have since driven the hell out it. It's been to Georgia twice, all over Richmond, Northern VA and DC. On Sunday, it traveled to North Carolina/Tennessee and took a trip down the Tail of the Dragon...
The Dragon is a stretch of road on US 129 that runs from North Carolina into Tennessee near Maryville. It's 11 miles long and is purported to have 318 curves. I last rode down the Dragon in 2004 in a 2004 Scion xA with 3 friends, coolers and a few hot dogs in the back. I rode it on my motorcycle in 2002, 6 months after I had a bone breaking wreck. The trip was fun both times and quite memorable. The road was not any different this time around.
To get to the dragon from Maryville, you have to take a 20 mile hike down the less windy part of US129. It's fun and if you aren't careful, you will fly down the road. Like I did. And get pulled over. Like I did. I haven't had the blue light behind me in several years. I managed to do it yesterday TWO times. That's a feat I never accomplished as a younger, faster guy. I was let off with a warning for going 62 in a 40. You have to pay attention to the road and not the lake next to it. Lesson learned.
To take a 21 year old car down the Dragon is pretty stupid. Having your wife, a dog and all your luggage in the hatch adds to the stupidity. If the Saab's suspension isn't the original, 21 year old shocks/tie-rod ends/balljoints/etc, I'll eat my shoe. While suicidal, it was stupid fun. The first pass was pretty quick. The wife never got sick (or the dog), no one got in the way and there were no tractor trailers. We pulled in at the NC state line to the resort, took a potty break, got some Dragon loot, and went back. The second pass was a little slower. I got stuck behind an arsehole in a pick-up truck who was all over the road. At one point, he swung over into the other lane and nearly nailed a biker, a biker who redlined his bike and told the trucker who number one was. If you've never been to the Dragon, it's hard to imagine anything else being any curvier anywhere. Switchbacks after switchbacks...it's insane. You really have to be careful...fortunately for those of us who, ahem..., like to drive fast, there are roadside areas where the slower folks can pull over. The trucker pulled over for me and I was able to catch 2 bikers who were not going as fast as they probably could, but could destroy a slow, 21 year old car if they really wanted to.
In the end, the Meatball did the road two times and lived to tell about it. The suspension spent most of the time being bottomed out, the tires were screaming and the photographers who take pictures of the folks on the Dragon were having a ball watching an old, swedish pig muscle it's way through the curves. In a few months, armed with new suspension components, tires and less crap in the back, I will be taking the car to see what my fastest time is down the road. I suspect this old $450 "luxury" car will whip the ass out of several cars that cost more and are newer. We shall see...
I've been drawn to quirky, out of place cars since I was a kid. The Meatball is a 1990 Saab 900 Turbo, also referred to as a C900 for "Classic" 900 because it was the last of the Saab built 900's before GM came in and ruined everything. Since the car is Swedish (duh), it's the Meatball (double duh). I bought it for $450, drove it home and have since done little to it other than have the paint restored, a wheel bearing replaced, new(ish) tires, a tune-up(sort of) and the a/c sorted. I bought it with 150,000 miles on it from the son of the original owner and have since driven the hell out it. It's been to Georgia twice, all over Richmond, Northern VA and DC. On Sunday, it traveled to North Carolina/Tennessee and took a trip down the Tail of the Dragon...
The Dragon is a stretch of road on US 129 that runs from North Carolina into Tennessee near Maryville. It's 11 miles long and is purported to have 318 curves. I last rode down the Dragon in 2004 in a 2004 Scion xA with 3 friends, coolers and a few hot dogs in the back. I rode it on my motorcycle in 2002, 6 months after I had a bone breaking wreck. The trip was fun both times and quite memorable. The road was not any different this time around.
To get to the dragon from Maryville, you have to take a 20 mile hike down the less windy part of US129. It's fun and if you aren't careful, you will fly down the road. Like I did. And get pulled over. Like I did. I haven't had the blue light behind me in several years. I managed to do it yesterday TWO times. That's a feat I never accomplished as a younger, faster guy. I was let off with a warning for going 62 in a 40. You have to pay attention to the road and not the lake next to it. Lesson learned.
To take a 21 year old car down the Dragon is pretty stupid. Having your wife, a dog and all your luggage in the hatch adds to the stupidity. If the Saab's suspension isn't the original, 21 year old shocks/tie-rod ends/balljoints/etc, I'll eat my shoe. While suicidal, it was stupid fun. The first pass was pretty quick. The wife never got sick (or the dog), no one got in the way and there were no tractor trailers. We pulled in at the NC state line to the resort, took a potty break, got some Dragon loot, and went back. The second pass was a little slower. I got stuck behind an arsehole in a pick-up truck who was all over the road. At one point, he swung over into the other lane and nearly nailed a biker, a biker who redlined his bike and told the trucker who number one was. If you've never been to the Dragon, it's hard to imagine anything else being any curvier anywhere. Switchbacks after switchbacks...it's insane. You really have to be careful...fortunately for those of us who, ahem..., like to drive fast, there are roadside areas where the slower folks can pull over. The trucker pulled over for me and I was able to catch 2 bikers who were not going as fast as they probably could, but could destroy a slow, 21 year old car if they really wanted to.
In the end, the Meatball did the road two times and lived to tell about it. The suspension spent most of the time being bottomed out, the tires were screaming and the photographers who take pictures of the folks on the Dragon were having a ball watching an old, swedish pig muscle it's way through the curves. In a few months, armed with new suspension components, tires and less crap in the back, I will be taking the car to see what my fastest time is down the road. I suspect this old $450 "luxury" car will whip the ass out of several cars that cost more and are newer. We shall see...
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Skunk Alley
I've decided that the area starting just southeast of Knoxville and running to Rome will henceforth be referred to as skunk alley. On my last drive through, at night mind you, I was privy to not one, not two, but a half dozen dead skunks on the side of the road. Have you not had the privilege of smelling a skunk? Well, take a swing through the area. Stopped up nose? Sinus issues? Dry eyes? Overweight? Dead skunk can and will cure all of those issues with one whiff. Breath in deep and your sinuses magically clear! Inhale the aroma and your dry eyes are POOF!!! watering, wet eyes! Bite off a taste and your appetite is a thing of the past!
MAGIC SKUNK!!!
MAGIC SKUNK!!!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Music
What with the weather being the equivalent of a fat man's underwear, hot, smothering and very damp, I've had to hide out in the basement the past few days and get a few things done. One of those to do items has been putting the bulk of my CD collection onto ITunes so that I may continue enjoying the smugness that is mobile, digital music on either my IPod (which is so 2010 I know) or my phone. I've managed to burn about 1000 songs onto my folder so far which is only music for which I own the physical CD. There are about 200 songs purchased from the never ending money hole called the ITunes store as well. A thousand is a lot...until you realize that I have about 1200 ALBUMS to pull from...so you can see the wall I am up against.
Anyway, it's been refreshing to sit back and enjoy some of the old music that I haven't had to listen to in a while and the memories that come with them. While at the Goodwill yesterday (a place where the name of the store is in direct conflict with the actual state of customers minds), I picked up the Pink Floyd: Pulse DVD. We watched it last night and today it was one of the CD's that I pulled music from. I bought it at Blockbuster Music in 1994, the day it came out, and have replaced the AA batteries that keep the light blinking in the case several times since then... it's a gimmick, I know, but it helps the disc to stand out and remind me of buying it.
Burning that started me to remembering when and where I bought most of the CD's I had. I picked up Talking Heads: Speaking in Tongues, and remembered buying it at Turtles in Rome, Georgia when I was 9. Ben Levy, a kid I went to school with, introduced me to them and they have always been my favorite band. When Beastie Boys: License to Ill came out, I had to censor the tape myself (at 11 years old) so my parents wouldn't confiscate it. Yeah, I put tape over the holes, forwarded it to the bad words, pressed record for a split second, and voila...a censored tape worthy of the Vatican. Well, maybe.
Stone Temple Pilots: Core was memorable. That was the first concert I ever went to that was cool. The Butthole Surfers, STP and the opener was The Meat Puppets. I even had the honour of making a girl mad resulting in my being drenched in her soda. Cool.
It's fun to also get the albums out with one or two songs that you like. Am I really going to burn the entire Mothership compilation from Zeppelin? Well, yes I am actually. But there are so many albums that I bought for just one song hoping that the rest of the album would be ok or I would find several more tracks that were awesome. That tended to be the case with the hair bands from the 80's. Who could forget Trixter, Kix, Every Mother's Nightmare, Danger Danger?... Well, apparently everyone can but me it seems.
Anyway, it's been refreshing to sit back and enjoy some of the old music that I haven't had to listen to in a while and the memories that come with them. While at the Goodwill yesterday (a place where the name of the store is in direct conflict with the actual state of customers minds), I picked up the Pink Floyd: Pulse DVD. We watched it last night and today it was one of the CD's that I pulled music from. I bought it at Blockbuster Music in 1994, the day it came out, and have replaced the AA batteries that keep the light blinking in the case several times since then... it's a gimmick, I know, but it helps the disc to stand out and remind me of buying it.
Burning that started me to remembering when and where I bought most of the CD's I had. I picked up Talking Heads: Speaking in Tongues, and remembered buying it at Turtles in Rome, Georgia when I was 9. Ben Levy, a kid I went to school with, introduced me to them and they have always been my favorite band. When Beastie Boys: License to Ill came out, I had to censor the tape myself (at 11 years old) so my parents wouldn't confiscate it. Yeah, I put tape over the holes, forwarded it to the bad words, pressed record for a split second, and voila...a censored tape worthy of the Vatican. Well, maybe.
Stone Temple Pilots: Core was memorable. That was the first concert I ever went to that was cool. The Butthole Surfers, STP and the opener was The Meat Puppets. I even had the honour of making a girl mad resulting in my being drenched in her soda. Cool.
It's fun to also get the albums out with one or two songs that you like. Am I really going to burn the entire Mothership compilation from Zeppelin? Well, yes I am actually. But there are so many albums that I bought for just one song hoping that the rest of the album would be ok or I would find several more tracks that were awesome. That tended to be the case with the hair bands from the 80's. Who could forget Trixter, Kix, Every Mother's Nightmare, Danger Danger?... Well, apparently everyone can but me it seems.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A few notes from my recent trip...
I had a few things I wanted to mention that I didn't from my trip, mainly sightings that didn't really go with the telling of the trip as a whole.By sightings, I think most people would interpret things that occurred or were seen. For me, that would be, for instance, a bumper sticker reading "If you want to do the crime, but not the time, try FLORIDA", a not so subtle reference to the Casey Anthony trial.
While traveling home, I had the best opportunity to see things that would help to write this silliness I call a blog. as I rode through Chatsworth GA, I saw a business called "You BAWT WHUT?". For the non-southern, this is the vernacular for "You purchased an item and I am shocked over what that item is!". Whether the place was still open or not, I failed to check, but it was an interesting sight nonetheless.
Further up the road, and still in Georgia, was "Booger's Flea Market". Booger. I'll say it again. Booger.
As I rode into Knoxville, I lost track of my route and traveled a little further north than I needed to. As I passed under the bridge that was I-40, there was what appeared to be a fight going on. I rode by too quick to really get a good look, but on my way back (because I got turned around AGAIN), the guys were still going at it. The rest of the crowd was standing around while these two swung and missed, swung and hit a shoulder, pushed and slapped. There was no blood from what I could see, but being on a bike and in a very vulnerable position, I rode on not wanting to press my luck.
In Bristol, the Virginia side, I rode by a group of Harley's parked on the side of the road leaving what looked like a diner. Anyone who rides knows that it's polite to wave at oncoming fellow bikers, regardless of the brand. I waved and the one guy who saw me gave me the American sign to screw off. Delightful!
In Radford, Virginia, as I took a short break at a Sheetz, I did some people watching as I sat outside on the table. I counted 6 Virginia Tech t-shirts (Expected as Blacksburg is right down the road), several people wearing jeans despite the 100 degree weather, at least one airbrushed t-shirt professing love for a boyfriend/husband/one night stand and all the bikini's I could ever want to see. 3 bikinis and two of the women needed at least another bikini apiece to go with the one they were already wearing. Why? Because a) there was more flesh than bikini in ALL the wrong places and b) I'm pretty sure they violated at least 3 local ordinances and several constitutional rights for anyone who saw them.
I'll have to take my camera next time I go anywhere. I wish I had pictures of it all (minus the banshees from Radford. Yech...) so I could look back on it and enjoy it all over again. Maybe that will be my next investment, a good camera that's weatherproof and can make me look good all at once.
While traveling home, I had the best opportunity to see things that would help to write this silliness I call a blog. as I rode through Chatsworth GA, I saw a business called "You BAWT WHUT?". For the non-southern, this is the vernacular for "You purchased an item and I am shocked over what that item is!". Whether the place was still open or not, I failed to check, but it was an interesting sight nonetheless.
Further up the road, and still in Georgia, was "Booger's Flea Market". Booger. I'll say it again. Booger.
As I rode into Knoxville, I lost track of my route and traveled a little further north than I needed to. As I passed under the bridge that was I-40, there was what appeared to be a fight going on. I rode by too quick to really get a good look, but on my way back (because I got turned around AGAIN), the guys were still going at it. The rest of the crowd was standing around while these two swung and missed, swung and hit a shoulder, pushed and slapped. There was no blood from what I could see, but being on a bike and in a very vulnerable position, I rode on not wanting to press my luck.
In Bristol, the Virginia side, I rode by a group of Harley's parked on the side of the road leaving what looked like a diner. Anyone who rides knows that it's polite to wave at oncoming fellow bikers, regardless of the brand. I waved and the one guy who saw me gave me the American sign to screw off. Delightful!
In Radford, Virginia, as I took a short break at a Sheetz, I did some people watching as I sat outside on the table. I counted 6 Virginia Tech t-shirts (Expected as Blacksburg is right down the road), several people wearing jeans despite the 100 degree weather, at least one airbrushed t-shirt professing love for a boyfriend/husband/one night stand and all the bikini's I could ever want to see. 3 bikinis and two of the women needed at least another bikini apiece to go with the one they were already wearing. Why? Because a) there was more flesh than bikini in ALL the wrong places and b) I'm pretty sure they violated at least 3 local ordinances and several constitutional rights for anyone who saw them.
I'll have to take my camera next time I go anywhere. I wish I had pictures of it all (minus the banshees from Radford. Yech...) so I could look back on it and enjoy it all over again. Maybe that will be my next investment, a good camera that's weatherproof and can make me look good all at once.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
There's no place like home... most of the time...
I got home yesterday and after a 13 hour ride, I think bed was the only option. Today, I had to get up and take the youngest to his father's for the weekend, a journey to Northern Virginia, usually about 3 hours, that took nearly 6 hours round-trip including stopping for lunch at Taco Mexico in Prince William county and the subsequent bathroom stop(s).Needless to say, I'm exhausted and writing about my return trip is that last thing I have been thinking about.
Based on what I read, was advised to do and what my inner explorer wanted to do, I took the long route home. Purposely avoiding the interstates, I wanted to get a true feel of a bike adventure on the pavement. The plan was to leave Rome, GA, follow route 53 to Fairmount, GA, turn north on US411 and ride it into Maryville, TN. From Maryville, I would jump onto US129 to US11 and follow it to Salem, VA where US11 and route 460 split, follow 460 to route 24 in Appomattox, VA. Route 24 intersects route 60 near Buckingham county. Once on route 60, I would follow it into Midlothian, VA, turning onto the 288 bypass and follow it to route 6 (Patterson Ave. for the Richmonders) which takes me home. Boring I know. However, I want to lay out the route I planned because it's important to note that the only Interstate I followed was a 15 miles stretch in Wytheville, VA where US11 and I-81 are the same road. I wanted a purely scenic route home, time be damned. I got just that.
I left Friday at 8 AM sharp. I made it to Calhoun, GA and then to Fairmount, GA without incident. As I rode route 53 to Fairmount, I remembered that this was the route we used to take when we would ride to the mountains. I have a picture that I need to scan in which 5 or 6 of us are sitting on our (then) bikes in our leathers, looking super bad-ass (read: sarcasm) getting read to tackle the road that winds through Suches, GA. It's nostalgia and sadness all at once knowing that I haven't seen or heard from a few of those guys in 7 or 8 years. Once in Fairmount, I turned north on US411 and rode by where route 53 splits off into the mountains. Were I to have more time and be in better fitness, I would have taken the route as it would take me through Suches and then, if I followed the right roads, to route 129 in Tennessee, aka The Tail of the Dragon located in Deal's Gap.
US411 took me straight into Maryville, TN. I'd never been there and was pretty blown away at how beautiful the area is. It's roughly 20 miles from Knoxville, TN and made for a good stop. I pulled into a Shell station, filled up and took a quick break. The owner of the Shell kept telling me I should ride back the way I came about a mile and take "the road". I asked what he was talking about and it turned out that the northern edge of Deal's Gap was right off of US411. I thought about it and, remembering the last time I rode it in 2004 being in better shape and sounder mind, decided not to as I had a looooong way to go.
I drove another mile up the road and turned north on US129. Another 2 or so miles had me on US11 and finally on the longest stretch of road I would take the entire day. My father had told me about a particular BP station that is located right about where US11 passes under Interstate 40. I dismissed it as poor memory on my father's part until I passed the very station he told me about. Score one for 7+ decades of long term memory.
US11 goes right through the heart of Knoxville, TN. I passed by the University of Tennessee and saw parts of the city that I had never seen before. US11 meets with several other routes and, as soon as it passes underneath Interstate 40 in the heart of downtown Knoxville, it takes a very sudden and unexpected turn to the east. I missed that part of the trip apparently. Route 441 goes north and it took me a good 15 minutes of driving through Knoxville traffic in 100 degrees to figure out I had missed US11. Whoops. I turned around and eventually figured it out, but not until I had lost 30 minutes of drive time and had to ask a sketchy looking dude in a very loud voice "IS THIS ROUTE 11??!?" two times while he traversed a crosswalk in front of me. Ear plugs save your ears, but are hell on everyone else when you are communicating.
The only decision I had to make in planning this route back that I left until the very last second was which way to go on US11. At some point in the middle of the 20th century, US11 was split into 2 separate roads, US11E and US11W. They are called that because they are west and east of each other...duh. They each run the distance from east of Knoxville all the way to Bristol TN/VA. Each one presents a different set of towns to ride through but they are, mileage wise, identical. The only thing that I read that caused a moment's hesitation was that US11W used to be called Bloody 11W because of all the traffic fatalities. That's a bit morbid, but at the last second, I chose 11W to take to Bristol.
The road to Bristol was uneventful. At one point, US11W merges with route 325e. I missed the exit that was US11W outside of Rogersville, TN and had to ride about 3 miles out of the way to turn around. Well, 3 miles was far enough for me to see the first of several lakes that surround Rogersville and the area. Topping the hill, I could see down into the lake that is nestled between the mountains. It was shimmering and, again, I was tempted to go off course for a few minutes to explore. I decided not to and made a mental note to revisit on my trip back down in a few weeks time. Words cannot describe how beautiful the scenery was. It's like a dream. I made my way back to US11W and on to Rogersville. Riding through the town was worth the trip. Much like the lake I had seen 20 minutes before, the town itself was beautiful. Part of the allure of traveling back on non-interstate roads is the scenery. That scenery includes all the wonderful little towns that one passes through on the way home. Rogersville was first town that surprised me with it's personality and beauty. It's one of two areas that really took my breath away.
Past Rogersville, I rode through other beautiful towns in Tennessee such as Mount Carmel and Church Hill. I made it into Kingsport, part of the so-called "Tri-Cities" area. I had not been through the city since the early 90's when my family and I were active in the Mustang club of America. Kingsport was the site of the grand Nationals one year, the pinnacle of Mustang shows then (and probably now too). I remembered nothing of it so I just enjoyed riding through the town. Of note is the cities use of traffic cameras and one speed camera. Funny how a small town in Tennessee is following the British and putting up these rather intrusive devices.
When I got to Bristol, I remembered my father's advice to take the interstate for a few miles until I had cleared the downtown area. He reasoned that, being very hot, I would be stuck in traffic and be very warm. I stopped at a gas station at the point where US11W and 11E merge to be US11. I drank a good bit of water and, while using the bathroom, was surprised to see my left eye was in bad shape. The night before I left, I rode out with a friend to have a parting beer. On the way home, as I lowered my visor after pulling away from a traffic light, a gnat or some type of fling insect flew DIRECTLY into my left eye. It took a few seconds to die as I could feel it moving around on my eyeball. By the time I had made it home the mile to my parents house, my left eye looked like George Burns does now. Dead.I used some eye-drops and when I left that morning, my eye looked good. I figured the State Trooper who was eyeballing me (pun intended) in the gas station must have thought I was some meth-head what with the red eye, the flattened hair and soaked t-shirt. Oh and the big Longhorns sticker on the back of the bike.
Taking no heed of my father's advice, I followed US11 on out. It was hot and took a while, but I made it through and onto several small towns after Bristol. One in particular was, much like Rogersville, unforgettable. It reminded me of the little town I grew up in, Cave Spring, when Cave Spring was bustling and had lots of business coming through. There was a local fair going on and a farmers market on the main street. People waved at the bike as I passed through and at the other bikes that were going the opposite way. It would have been great to stop and look around, but again, I promised to pass through again soon and take time to enjoy it. At one point, a little bit past the Tri-cities area, I passed though a small town in which a property owner had, by my estimation, 2-300 Volkswagen Vanagon vans. That's 2 to 3 HUNDRED of them sitting in neat rows and in buildings on the property. I know obsession when it comes to cars (anyone who knows me knows that), but this is like...I don't honestly have a word for it. It was definitely bizarre.
From there, US11 took a winding route that paralleled I-81. I would ride down the road and pass through towns I had only seen from the Interstate. Marion, Chilhowie, Radford and Christiansburg were all explained to me in 10 minutes by riding down the center of the towns and seeing what each had to offer. Every so often, US11 would come to a complete stop and I would have to go left or right over the Interstate and then back onto 11 again. I liked it because I had time to stop, stretch my legs for 10 or 15 seconds, and then blast off again. When I got to Wytheville, VA, I had to get onto the Interstate for about 15 miles because someone got lazy and merged the roads. Suckage.
A little further down and I was finally approaching Christiansburg where US11 and US460 meet. I made it through with no issues and, as I rode into Salem a little bit later, I sadly said goodbye to US11 as it traveled north and I was going east on 460. I made one more stop at a Sheetz, drank some more water, fussed over my eye again and wondered what downtown Roanoke would be like as it was the next stop that I was unfamiliar with (my family is from Salem, VA mostly so I know the downtown area pretty well).
Roanoke turned out to be the b-hole of the trip. Plenty of crazy drivers and loads of traffic meant a long haul through the area. Once I saw the turn off to Troutville, VA, the area where I normally get onto the Interstate going south, I was relieved because I knew I would be able to shift through traffic.
Several miles and 612 speed traps later, I pulled into for my last gas stop 11 miles outside of Appomattox, VA. How do I know it was 11 miles? Read on... I pre-paid inside with my card because the pump was out of order for cards. Anticipating my gas usage, I paid for $20 worth. I used $15 and was lucky to squeeze that much in. The sun was setting and I wanted to get on the road. As I stood in line for a second time to get my refund, I downed a water. When I got to the counter, the girl was on the phone. Mind you, there was a line behind me and, like my other stops, I was looking a good bit different than the folks standing around me. Green t-shirt, black riding pants, blue boots (they match my helmet!) and a red eye that earned a stink eye from anyone who noticed. The girl behind the counter announces to me that she has had to call the manager to get the $5 refund because she isn't aware of how to do it. So what you ask? Well, the manager had to drive to the store to do it. 20 minutes I waited...I watched the sun go down further and further. The only good thing about the stop? The bike used 3.9 gallons and had gone 215 miles. That's 55 miles to the gallon. Prius who??
Back on the road, I had to make some time up. Anyone who has ever riden an older bike knows that the headlights aren't worth much so I wanted to get home as soon as humanly possible. It's 90 miles exactly from my doorstep to the turn off in Appomattox to get on US460. It was 11 miles from the gas station to the turn off. So I had 101 miles to go as I left the gas station at 7:45. As I mentioned before, the trip was 13 hours exactly and I left at 8 AM sharp. Do the math.
The final leg of my trip consisted of a high average speed, a beaver or some other brown animal bum rushing my bike from the side of the road, 2 state troopers who acted as though they didn't see a red bike flash by them at an unmentionable speed and a swarm of insects that avoided my eyes by committing suicide on my visor.
The final figures for my trip were: 50.5 mpg average fuel consumption, a half quart of oil used in roughly 1300 miles, 1300 miles of road covered and no speeding tickets. I also had 2 days worth of blue feet from my boots, road breath to kill a moose, gain of 10 water weight pounds on the trip down, loss of 10 pounds of sweat on the trip home, and a bad case of dumb-ass in Knoxville.
I can hardly wait to do it again.
Based on what I read, was advised to do and what my inner explorer wanted to do, I took the long route home. Purposely avoiding the interstates, I wanted to get a true feel of a bike adventure on the pavement. The plan was to leave Rome, GA, follow route 53 to Fairmount, GA, turn north on US411 and ride it into Maryville, TN. From Maryville, I would jump onto US129 to US11 and follow it to Salem, VA where US11 and route 460 split, follow 460 to route 24 in Appomattox, VA. Route 24 intersects route 60 near Buckingham county. Once on route 60, I would follow it into Midlothian, VA, turning onto the 288 bypass and follow it to route 6 (Patterson Ave. for the Richmonders) which takes me home. Boring I know. However, I want to lay out the route I planned because it's important to note that the only Interstate I followed was a 15 miles stretch in Wytheville, VA where US11 and I-81 are the same road. I wanted a purely scenic route home, time be damned. I got just that.
I left Friday at 8 AM sharp. I made it to Calhoun, GA and then to Fairmount, GA without incident. As I rode route 53 to Fairmount, I remembered that this was the route we used to take when we would ride to the mountains. I have a picture that I need to scan in which 5 or 6 of us are sitting on our (then) bikes in our leathers, looking super bad-ass (read: sarcasm) getting read to tackle the road that winds through Suches, GA. It's nostalgia and sadness all at once knowing that I haven't seen or heard from a few of those guys in 7 or 8 years. Once in Fairmount, I turned north on US411 and rode by where route 53 splits off into the mountains. Were I to have more time and be in better fitness, I would have taken the route as it would take me through Suches and then, if I followed the right roads, to route 129 in Tennessee, aka The Tail of the Dragon located in Deal's Gap.
US411 took me straight into Maryville, TN. I'd never been there and was pretty blown away at how beautiful the area is. It's roughly 20 miles from Knoxville, TN and made for a good stop. I pulled into a Shell station, filled up and took a quick break. The owner of the Shell kept telling me I should ride back the way I came about a mile and take "the road". I asked what he was talking about and it turned out that the northern edge of Deal's Gap was right off of US411. I thought about it and, remembering the last time I rode it in 2004 being in better shape and sounder mind, decided not to as I had a looooong way to go.
I drove another mile up the road and turned north on US129. Another 2 or so miles had me on US11 and finally on the longest stretch of road I would take the entire day. My father had told me about a particular BP station that is located right about where US11 passes under Interstate 40. I dismissed it as poor memory on my father's part until I passed the very station he told me about. Score one for 7+ decades of long term memory.
US11 goes right through the heart of Knoxville, TN. I passed by the University of Tennessee and saw parts of the city that I had never seen before. US11 meets with several other routes and, as soon as it passes underneath Interstate 40 in the heart of downtown Knoxville, it takes a very sudden and unexpected turn to the east. I missed that part of the trip apparently. Route 441 goes north and it took me a good 15 minutes of driving through Knoxville traffic in 100 degrees to figure out I had missed US11. Whoops. I turned around and eventually figured it out, but not until I had lost 30 minutes of drive time and had to ask a sketchy looking dude in a very loud voice "IS THIS ROUTE 11??!?" two times while he traversed a crosswalk in front of me. Ear plugs save your ears, but are hell on everyone else when you are communicating.
The only decision I had to make in planning this route back that I left until the very last second was which way to go on US11. At some point in the middle of the 20th century, US11 was split into 2 separate roads, US11E and US11W. They are called that because they are west and east of each other...duh. They each run the distance from east of Knoxville all the way to Bristol TN/VA. Each one presents a different set of towns to ride through but they are, mileage wise, identical. The only thing that I read that caused a moment's hesitation was that US11W used to be called Bloody 11W because of all the traffic fatalities. That's a bit morbid, but at the last second, I chose 11W to take to Bristol.
The road to Bristol was uneventful. At one point, US11W merges with route 325e. I missed the exit that was US11W outside of Rogersville, TN and had to ride about 3 miles out of the way to turn around. Well, 3 miles was far enough for me to see the first of several lakes that surround Rogersville and the area. Topping the hill, I could see down into the lake that is nestled between the mountains. It was shimmering and, again, I was tempted to go off course for a few minutes to explore. I decided not to and made a mental note to revisit on my trip back down in a few weeks time. Words cannot describe how beautiful the scenery was. It's like a dream. I made my way back to US11W and on to Rogersville. Riding through the town was worth the trip. Much like the lake I had seen 20 minutes before, the town itself was beautiful. Part of the allure of traveling back on non-interstate roads is the scenery. That scenery includes all the wonderful little towns that one passes through on the way home. Rogersville was first town that surprised me with it's personality and beauty. It's one of two areas that really took my breath away.
Past Rogersville, I rode through other beautiful towns in Tennessee such as Mount Carmel and Church Hill. I made it into Kingsport, part of the so-called "Tri-Cities" area. I had not been through the city since the early 90's when my family and I were active in the Mustang club of America. Kingsport was the site of the grand Nationals one year, the pinnacle of Mustang shows then (and probably now too). I remembered nothing of it so I just enjoyed riding through the town. Of note is the cities use of traffic cameras and one speed camera. Funny how a small town in Tennessee is following the British and putting up these rather intrusive devices.
When I got to Bristol, I remembered my father's advice to take the interstate for a few miles until I had cleared the downtown area. He reasoned that, being very hot, I would be stuck in traffic and be very warm. I stopped at a gas station at the point where US11W and 11E merge to be US11. I drank a good bit of water and, while using the bathroom, was surprised to see my left eye was in bad shape. The night before I left, I rode out with a friend to have a parting beer. On the way home, as I lowered my visor after pulling away from a traffic light, a gnat or some type of fling insect flew DIRECTLY into my left eye. It took a few seconds to die as I could feel it moving around on my eyeball. By the time I had made it home the mile to my parents house, my left eye looked like George Burns does now. Dead.I used some eye-drops and when I left that morning, my eye looked good. I figured the State Trooper who was eyeballing me (pun intended) in the gas station must have thought I was some meth-head what with the red eye, the flattened hair and soaked t-shirt. Oh and the big Longhorns sticker on the back of the bike.
Taking no heed of my father's advice, I followed US11 on out. It was hot and took a while, but I made it through and onto several small towns after Bristol. One in particular was, much like Rogersville, unforgettable. It reminded me of the little town I grew up in, Cave Spring, when Cave Spring was bustling and had lots of business coming through. There was a local fair going on and a farmers market on the main street. People waved at the bike as I passed through and at the other bikes that were going the opposite way. It would have been great to stop and look around, but again, I promised to pass through again soon and take time to enjoy it. At one point, a little bit past the Tri-cities area, I passed though a small town in which a property owner had, by my estimation, 2-300 Volkswagen Vanagon vans. That's 2 to 3 HUNDRED of them sitting in neat rows and in buildings on the property. I know obsession when it comes to cars (anyone who knows me knows that), but this is like...I don't honestly have a word for it. It was definitely bizarre.
From there, US11 took a winding route that paralleled I-81. I would ride down the road and pass through towns I had only seen from the Interstate. Marion, Chilhowie, Radford and Christiansburg were all explained to me in 10 minutes by riding down the center of the towns and seeing what each had to offer. Every so often, US11 would come to a complete stop and I would have to go left or right over the Interstate and then back onto 11 again. I liked it because I had time to stop, stretch my legs for 10 or 15 seconds, and then blast off again. When I got to Wytheville, VA, I had to get onto the Interstate for about 15 miles because someone got lazy and merged the roads. Suckage.
A little further down and I was finally approaching Christiansburg where US11 and US460 meet. I made it through with no issues and, as I rode into Salem a little bit later, I sadly said goodbye to US11 as it traveled north and I was going east on 460. I made one more stop at a Sheetz, drank some more water, fussed over my eye again and wondered what downtown Roanoke would be like as it was the next stop that I was unfamiliar with (my family is from Salem, VA mostly so I know the downtown area pretty well).
Roanoke turned out to be the b-hole of the trip. Plenty of crazy drivers and loads of traffic meant a long haul through the area. Once I saw the turn off to Troutville, VA, the area where I normally get onto the Interstate going south, I was relieved because I knew I would be able to shift through traffic.
Several miles and 612 speed traps later, I pulled into for my last gas stop 11 miles outside of Appomattox, VA. How do I know it was 11 miles? Read on... I pre-paid inside with my card because the pump was out of order for cards. Anticipating my gas usage, I paid for $20 worth. I used $15 and was lucky to squeeze that much in. The sun was setting and I wanted to get on the road. As I stood in line for a second time to get my refund, I downed a water. When I got to the counter, the girl was on the phone. Mind you, there was a line behind me and, like my other stops, I was looking a good bit different than the folks standing around me. Green t-shirt, black riding pants, blue boots (they match my helmet!) and a red eye that earned a stink eye from anyone who noticed. The girl behind the counter announces to me that she has had to call the manager to get the $5 refund because she isn't aware of how to do it. So what you ask? Well, the manager had to drive to the store to do it. 20 minutes I waited...I watched the sun go down further and further. The only good thing about the stop? The bike used 3.9 gallons and had gone 215 miles. That's 55 miles to the gallon. Prius who??
Back on the road, I had to make some time up. Anyone who has ever riden an older bike knows that the headlights aren't worth much so I wanted to get home as soon as humanly possible. It's 90 miles exactly from my doorstep to the turn off in Appomattox to get on US460. It was 11 miles from the gas station to the turn off. So I had 101 miles to go as I left the gas station at 7:45. As I mentioned before, the trip was 13 hours exactly and I left at 8 AM sharp. Do the math.
The final leg of my trip consisted of a high average speed, a beaver or some other brown animal bum rushing my bike from the side of the road, 2 state troopers who acted as though they didn't see a red bike flash by them at an unmentionable speed and a swarm of insects that avoided my eyes by committing suicide on my visor.
The final figures for my trip were: 50.5 mpg average fuel consumption, a half quart of oil used in roughly 1300 miles, 1300 miles of road covered and no speeding tickets. I also had 2 days worth of blue feet from my boots, road breath to kill a moose, gain of 10 water weight pounds on the trip down, loss of 10 pounds of sweat on the trip home, and a bad case of dumb-ass in Knoxville.
I can hardly wait to do it again.
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