Doc
05-26-2004, 12:48 AM
Mr.Tourmeister asked me to post this here.
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Nobody that rode that road with us could ever forget it, least of all me.
Just after dawn, early breakfast, day 5 on a 3,000 mile ride D/FW to Raliegh, NC and back in 7 days. First 3 days was like Noah and the flood, we found every abandoned gas station in 3 states just staying out of the rain, although we were soaking wet through to our gonads in about the first 4 hours.
We are on the way home, it's still misty in the dawn of the 5th day. No idea of our route from a pre-planned objective, just winging it every day, following our noses through the Blue Ridge mountains and beyond.
We are about 20 minutes out from the motel and that early breakfast, we come over a ridge out of a tiny little town and we hit this stretch of road descending the mountain to the valley below. Two lane blacktop, just laid the day before, no lines, perfectly smooth and like walking on fly paper.
Down the mountain we descend, twisting and turning, all downhill stuff and 2nd or 3rd gear the whole way, sometimes contemplating 1st gear when they tighten up on you under brakes.
I am leading, and John is right on my back tyre like flies on cowpatties. I'm on my 20 year old XV920 with pretty hard Bridgestones (Spitfires) ... he's on his brand new twin plug hi-comp XL1200S with sticky Dunlops and 4 piston front brakes.
I know he wants to pass me bad but the road is really tight and I'm actually riding the wheels off that great old Yamaha. I might even have a smidgen more ground clearance than he does, and I'm certainly scraping the **** out of my boots. Even so I know i'm holding him up, even if just a little bit.
All I can see in my mirrors is Harley Sportster looming as large as my elbows. We had a buddy on his clapped out Kwaka 450 twin (who was doing well actually, and could ride no mistake) ... this continues until my front wheel picks up a rock on a downhill left hander and the bike steps out about 2 feet to the right after the front wheel rose about 3" off the deck rolling over and off it to the side while leaned over.
I stood it up rather immediately at that point, and to this day have no idea why I didn't drop it right there.
John stayed out of my back tyre but what means I am still unable to figure out, must have been quite a moment from his perspective.
I think I slowed the pace after that for a few corners, but then we were in the valley alongside the river, and the corners opened up into faster sweepers, and this is the kind of road that old Yamaha really liked. I think I went a bit gonzo after that, gorgeous 3rd and 4th gear booming pipes kind of sweepers along the river curves, I just couldn't help myself.
We stopped for a snooze later that day at the place John mantioned, we were doing that pretty frequently when we needed to, as we rode that whole trip there and back as hard and as long as we could, averaging 500->600 miles a day 3 days there, and 2 days back, stopping after dark to grab a room somewhere.
It's a ride I won't forget ... and I've gone on at least one road trip (around Australia) that didn't end until I'd logged 18 months continuous riding with a tent and a sleeping bag on the seat behind me. There have been many others that I won't forget, another one consisting of 3 months of coast roads (south and west coast of Australia in 100-> 120 degrees) ... still those few days through the Blue Ridge mountains remain unforgetable, and that one early morning on the brand new two lane black top down to the river ranks right up there with any of the rides I remember.
-------------------------------------------------
Nobody that rode that road with us could ever forget it, least of all me.
Just after dawn, early breakfast, day 5 on a 3,000 mile ride D/FW to Raliegh, NC and back in 7 days. First 3 days was like Noah and the flood, we found every abandoned gas station in 3 states just staying out of the rain, although we were soaking wet through to our gonads in about the first 4 hours.
We are on the way home, it's still misty in the dawn of the 5th day. No idea of our route from a pre-planned objective, just winging it every day, following our noses through the Blue Ridge mountains and beyond.
We are about 20 minutes out from the motel and that early breakfast, we come over a ridge out of a tiny little town and we hit this stretch of road descending the mountain to the valley below. Two lane blacktop, just laid the day before, no lines, perfectly smooth and like walking on fly paper.
Down the mountain we descend, twisting and turning, all downhill stuff and 2nd or 3rd gear the whole way, sometimes contemplating 1st gear when they tighten up on you under brakes.
I am leading, and John is right on my back tyre like flies on cowpatties. I'm on my 20 year old XV920 with pretty hard Bridgestones (Spitfires) ... he's on his brand new twin plug hi-comp XL1200S with sticky Dunlops and 4 piston front brakes.
I know he wants to pass me bad but the road is really tight and I'm actually riding the wheels off that great old Yamaha. I might even have a smidgen more ground clearance than he does, and I'm certainly scraping the **** out of my boots. Even so I know i'm holding him up, even if just a little bit.
All I can see in my mirrors is Harley Sportster looming as large as my elbows. We had a buddy on his clapped out Kwaka 450 twin (who was doing well actually, and could ride no mistake) ... this continues until my front wheel picks up a rock on a downhill left hander and the bike steps out about 2 feet to the right after the front wheel rose about 3" off the deck rolling over and off it to the side while leaned over.
I stood it up rather immediately at that point, and to this day have no idea why I didn't drop it right there.
John stayed out of my back tyre but what means I am still unable to figure out, must have been quite a moment from his perspective.
I think I slowed the pace after that for a few corners, but then we were in the valley alongside the river, and the corners opened up into faster sweepers, and this is the kind of road that old Yamaha really liked. I think I went a bit gonzo after that, gorgeous 3rd and 4th gear booming pipes kind of sweepers along the river curves, I just couldn't help myself.
We stopped for a snooze later that day at the place John mantioned, we were doing that pretty frequently when we needed to, as we rode that whole trip there and back as hard and as long as we could, averaging 500->600 miles a day 3 days there, and 2 days back, stopping after dark to grab a room somewhere.
It's a ride I won't forget ... and I've gone on at least one road trip (around Australia) that didn't end until I'd logged 18 months continuous riding with a tent and a sleeping bag on the seat behind me. There have been many others that I won't forget, another one consisting of 3 months of coast roads (south and west coast of Australia in 100-> 120 degrees) ... still those few days through the Blue Ridge mountains remain unforgetable, and that one early morning on the brand new two lane black top down to the river ranks right up there with any of the rides I remember.