Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Scenes from a motorcycle trip.

B.W. This is a great read, thanks for sharing.
Making my old Nighthawk feel like a traitor though, all it does is haul me to work.

truer words haven't been spoken regarding the physics of motorcycling on these pages, i'll warrant.

somehow, i think that the older i get, the better i was when i was younger. flying around corners and the very *edge* of control is a lot more fun if and when you survived the event. i still remember Tony Overby... he didn't even have a deer to blame, that anyone could prove. just took a bad turn after a straight line run up to college station from houston way too hot, went off-road, hit a culvert (bad) and a YIELD sign (worse, and fatal) and it's STORY OVER. we risked way too much back then, and although we fancied ourselves riders, on Big Bill Jagers runs on a track nowadays... all 300+ lbs. of him... and doing that in the middle of a bunch of squids is a lot safer than touring the hill country at triple digits with a belly half-full of warm, shook up beer...

it may have been scary then, but it's absolutely terrifying now, to me at least. still have a license, and won't say i'll never own a bike again, but i'll be a lot slower and much more cautious than i was when i was much younger...

-tom

I dunno Tom, I'm recalling the BEST rides were on Sunday mornings, on bellies full of migas and coffee, and that we always rode spaced out, in staggered formation. Neither did we pull idiot squid stunts like weaving through traffic, or crowding people's tails.

Luck though, played a big role and we all had close calls. I myself once went into a 30 mph turn at 90. Though in blue jeans and no helmet I got nary a scratch (slid into a field of tall grass). I even rode the bike to the shop afterwards, with the bars pointed 60 degrees from my direction of travel.

The funniest though was Clint on his classic six-cyclinder CBX 1100, doing a stationary "Mad Max" style burnout one night in front of Dud's.... only to have the hot rubber suddenly gain traction and launch him into the back of a parked pickup

Clint and the pickup rear bumper both survived the experience unscathed, the CBX, not so much....

Anyways....

OK, I'll say it up front... the "Tail of the Dragon" is a decent road, but it ain't a life-changing experience or anything. The eleven-mile stretch itself being at tad overrated, especially in its present form.

Sure, its a very pretty road, winding up (or down depending which way you are going) the hillside through the forest. And the view from the lookouts along its length was spectacular....



If you had come upon this stretch unawares you would have said "wow! that was cool!" afterwards. Indeed, if you had a bike and lived close, you'd go out and ride it on purpose.

But as it is, being as famous as it is, the very popularity of the place impedes the ride itself.

The speed limit along the whole stretch is a marked 30mph, which ain't bad, on account of many of the hairpin turns are so tight you'd do well to hold 30 mph in 'em anyhow. But as anyone who has ridden a bike through a popular stretch of windy roads will tell you, the biggest worry isn't negotiating the curves in fine style, the biggest worry is who else is coming around those turns in the other direction.

In that regard we were fortunate, this was a Monday, plus the road being blocked off from below had the effect of making the "Tail" stretch a sort of motorcycle preserve. But, when the road is open, and on the weekends, its gotta be a regular zoo.

Sorta funny, at either end and in the middle they have signs specifically warning you that medical services are limited. This might be the only place in America where they find it necessary to do that.



Along those lines too, the Tail of the Dragon Store has a "wall of shame" of wreck photos, and to their credit, list fatalities on their web page...

http://www.tailofthedragon.com/dragon.html

...actually, considering the use it gets, just five fatalities in 2009 ain't bad, but of course most wrecks dont end up dead.

The other effect of all those riders is this..... Even on a Monday, and even with the road blocked off from below, the State of Tennessee felt it necessary to have two cruisers posted, just on that one stretch of dead-end road....



All that being so, I ain't gonna say not to go, see the appeal of Deal's Gap ain't the road, but the motorcycles that travel there, and the people that ride them. That place, and that road, as evinced by the graffitti on the rocks along the way, is sort of a public shrine to motorcycles and motorcycling....



Soon after our arrival at the store we went out and did the Dragon, downhill to the road closure and then back up. I liked coming back up better, most of the curves are on a slope, either you go down through them or are coming back up.

Leaning a bike over is easy, the trick is to not worry about the lean at all but instead to look ahead to where you want to go, the lean takes care of itself. The hardest part of a turn is choosing your line and your speed going in, and applying the right amount of brake if necessary.

Going downhill required a heavy hand on the front brake, always a difficult proposition while setting up for a corner. Coming back uphill was much easier, just roll off of the throttle and you'd slow down as needed.

Anyways, we did the Dragon and rolled back to the store to mingle with motorcycles and motorcyclists.

Since we were there, the road has been reopened, sounds like it was quite a party

July 10, 2010: Well it was like a big celebration at the Dragon today as US 129 was reopened for through traffic after 117 days of disappointment for tourists and hardship for local residents. There were thousands of bikers, tourists in vehicles and locals in pick-ups. Even the LEOs showed-up for the party. Five THP cars, a Blount County SO car and two Blount County cycle officers....

Birdwatcher

Mabey your not a total nut job after all.


dave

[quote=Birdwatcher]I dunno Tom, I'm recalling the BEST rides were on Sunday mornings, on bellies full of migas and coffee, and that we always rode spaced out, in staggered formation. Neither did we pull idiot squid stunts like weaving through traffic, or crowding people's tails.

Luck though, played a big role and we all had close calls. I myself once went into a 30 mph turn at 90. Though in blue jeans and no helmet I got nary a scratch (slid into a field of tall grass). I even rode the bike to the shop afterwards, with the bars pointed 60 degrees from my direction of travel.

The funniest though was Clint on his classic six-cyclinder CBX 1100, doing a stationary "Mad Max" style burnout one night in front of Dud's.... only to have the hot rubber suddenly gain traction and launch him into the back of a parked pickup

Clint and the pickup rear bumper both survived the experience unscathed, the CBX, not so much....

Tom.......how is Clint?

Leaning a bike over is easy, the trick is to not worry about the lean at all but instead to look ahead to where you want to go, the lean takes care of itself. The hardest part of a turn is choosing your line and your speed going in, and applying the right amount of brake if necessary.

Going downhill required a heavy hand on the front brake, always a difficult proposition while setting up for a corner. Coming back uphill was much easier, just roll off of the throttle and you'd slow down as needed.

'yep those words are coming back to my body every corner I get around'

She is home.........and I used the kind words and thoughts + flowers and sweets.

Rick

haven't heard from Clint in years. last i heard there was dark rumblings regarding his step-son being... shown unnatural male affection... by his biological father. this happened 15+ years ago... have made a couple attempts to contact him again, but all phones are changes (not surprising, given the circumstances...) and i wasn't in the "must call this guy and tell him the new number..." loop. always liked the guy, thought he worked way too much for far too few $, but liked him quite a bit...

do you remember his last name?

-tom

Ya know what REALLY irritates me?

When people who have no idea have the gall to claim that motorcycling is actually dangerous....





Anyhoo.... a discussion of perspective.

Folks have been making much of me riding across the country on that bike, as if it were an exercise in masochism or something.

I suspect much of it has to do with size. Here's that same overlook at Deal's Gap again, plus a pic in New York. In these pics two things become apparent: a) I really oughtta grow out my beard again or do something and b) physically I am just not very big, 5' 7" on a good day, old-guy belly notwithstanding....






So fer me, the KLR ain't a small bike (in fact, with the new fork springs I had to rediscover my inner Bruce Lee each time just to throw a leg over when getting on), but I can see how those among you that were fed steroids by your high school football coaches might have problems.


Meanwhile, back at the Tail of the Dragon Store, some motorcycles, and three approaches to the same mission....

A way-cool, spotless Buell (from Ontario) parked next to an BMW R1200 GS dual-purpose bike.





That same Beemer, a BMW F800 GS ("GS" = "Gelande Strasse", meaning they can go off road) and the KLR. (At first I thought those red bottles were fire extinguishers so organized were these folks down from Alberta )









BWM R1200GS: Dry weight: 512 pounds. 0-60: 3.2 seconds. Load capacity: 519 lbs. Range (@42 mpg): 374 miles. MSRP: $16,750.

BWM R800GS: Dry weight: 407 pounds. 0-60: 4.1 seconds. Load capacity: 575 lbs. Range (@45 mpg): 180 miles. MSRP: $10,520 (before options)

Kawasaki KLR650: Dry weight: 337 pounds. 0-60: 5.7 seconds. Load capacity: 401 lbs. Range (@48mpg): 267 miles. MSRP: ~$5,000.

BMW also makes a 650 dual purpose thumper for about $9,000, but its a wierd bike, with the gas tank under the seat and the filler cap in back somewhere. 'Course, you can get anti-lock brakes as an option on BMW's, and any one of these, having a sixth gear and being fuel injected to boot, would smoke the KLR in a top-end contest.

Out on the roads around Deal's Gap, it'd pretty much come down to who was driving.

Which one would I choose to ride to Costa Rica? I dunno, but the KLR has earned a reputation as a mount of choice for such rides. I do know which one I'd rather wrestle through the mountains in a pouring rain somewhere way off road in the boonies....

After the Dragon we spent a pleasant hour or so talking about bikes with friendly folks who were serious about motorcycles.

The coolest bike/rider combo I met there was a guy from Pennsylvania, a retired career Marine NCO, very much like our own Evil Twin in general demeanor. He was on a Polaris Victory (I wish I had thought to take a pic) and was on the return side of about a 4,000 mile ride in five days (I could relate ), having just hustled his bike all the way up the "Moonshiners' Highway"; Highway 28 from Georgia.

But... time was passing... so we topped off, and headed out south on 28 towards the Georgia state line. One thing was, they sold REAL gas there at the Dragon store, no ethanol (and therefore worth the premium).

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Sharpshin/24hrcamp/IMG_2270.jpg[/img]

I am told that modern 10% ethanol is real hard on carbureters, and it was on this trip that I learned about Star Tron, an ethanol-digesting fuel additive developed by the boating industry.

[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v148/Sharpshin/24hrcamp/startron.jpg[/img]

Just one 8 oz bottle added to the fuel in increments as needed got me more than 2,000 miles without worry. I ain't gonna leave home again without it

Birdwatcher

geez... i remember those zips around the brazos valley with serious affection.

remember J.C. buying a $1500 motorcycle sound/intercom system for his Gold Wing, then planning a 2 week, two up trip to Sturgis, then telling Christy (his girlfriend at the time...) he was gonna break up with her when they got back? and he told her this right before they left... ergo... he had to listen to it for 2500 miles...

priceless...

-tom

Who is your evil twin?
JC?

I recall riding to Enchanted Rock late at night, women in back, past all them many deer, and then scrambling up the rock in the dark ("just go uphill, ya gotta reach the top eventually") so as to be sitting on top of the rock in time to watch the sun rise.

It was sorta like sex actually, a whole lot of bother and work to get where ya needed to be.... a long dramatic buildup.....

...and then just like that it was over: "OK, get up and lets go get breakfast".

Birdwatcher

Naah, 'Twin is a well-regarded member here from NY State, a combat veteran and retired Cop. who people here would like even if he didn't own a an original 1878 Sharps that he let my nephews shoot last summer

Just checking......cause JC can be evil.

btw....the doghouse of love has worked out.
R

Yepper, amazing how conciliatory words and actions can soothe the savage beast...

who you kidding, the basement has HD and it 10 degrees cooler down there. The dog sits with me and even gives a kiss or 2.

but she is starting to accept the facts, the bike is in. I on the other hand am still on the wall.

time will tell.
R

i vote for the fatalistic approach.

she'll either leave or stay. i can deal, either way...

small wonder i've been through like, 3-4 of 'em in the last 10 years...

-tom

-tom

I do recall the time we came across that deer around two or three in the morning, and our strangely having no means on hand to dispatch it. Hard to imagine too but this was in "the age before cell phones" (yes, such a time really existed), so summoning local Law Enforcement to come and shoot it was out of the question.

Anyways....

One more time to the map, and a discussion of an optical or perceptual illusion.



It was Monday afternoon when we left the Dragon, still about 1,200 miles from San Antonio. We had a long way to go.

Our first target was the city of Franklin, just 45 miles away down Highway 28. Our expectation was that we would be running south, down and out of the Smokies.

Highway 28 turned out to be a tremendous road, I liked it more than the Dragon. At first it took us past Fontana Dam and the lake by that name, and then on down a winding course towards Franklin. Pretty country, "Dukes of Hazzard" country to judge by the houses we passed.

Except, strangley enough, we must have been going UP to Franklin, though the country seemed less mountainous. The river in the valley we found ourselves following was running north, a thing which puzzled me at the time.

For example, here's the lookout view from the Dragon...



I believe that is the Little Tennesse River down there, all of which must actually be lower in elevation than the Franklin area clear over to the other side of Georgia state line, at least fifty miles south as the crow flies.

Like I said, an illusion of perception, which I will work out next time I pass that way. It sure felt like we were going downhill.

Highway 28 was indeed a great road, but not the sort of road we needed to be on just then, it was late afternoon by the time we got to Franklin. If there's a fast way out of the Smokies, I ain't found it yet.

We needed to get to Highway 441 south, for a fast run into Georgia to pick up Interstate 85 westbound through Atlanta.

It was getting to be time to eat too, so we stopped at a gas station to get our bearings. Franklin was a busy town, with many semis pouring though the narrow streets. There were motorcycles there too, this being one of the prime outlets from the Skyway and the Dragon. At the gas station a guy had this classic '69 Triumph. I posted these on another thread, but they bear repeating here....







I was a kid in England when that bike was made, and well recall the Triumphs, BSA's and Nortons of the sixties. Interesting to reflect how much the British designs of that era still resonate today.

So we stopped to eat, not really wanting to stop, but knowing that we needed to, we hadn't eaten since leaving Tellico Plains that morning and had been riding most of the day.

It was getting towards evening when we started out southbound on 441, a lot of stoplights at first, but then becoming the four-lane sort of highway we needed. Before too long we were able to make 365 southeast past Gainesville Ga for a fast run on Atlanta.

Not much traffic through Atlanta (losing time there had been a worry going in) and we made it past downtown just as the light was fading. The next major city on our route was Montgomery Al, 160 miles down I 85.

Didn't make it that far though, we finally stopped for the night at a motel somewhere around Lagrange Ga, maybe 250 miles since leaving the Dragon.

Birdwatcher

I'm really enjoying this and don't want it to end. But can't wait for the next installment!

Funny, a friend has always has large road bikes, currently a Hayabusa (I borrowed his 'old' GXR1100 to ride home from Sydney to the country when I was there in March) but lately he has been talking of getting a DR650 also, with a large tank. Sounds good to me.

Cheers, Chris

Crikey! Australia! (to be read with suitable Steve Irwin/Paul Hogan accent).

....sorry, we all react that way up here....
___________________________________________________

...and referencing an earlier post....



Ah, the ol' Honda 750, been around in one form or another since... 1969?? My cousin (the same one in the thread) bought a CB750 in the early seventies.



...and immediately mounted a "sissy bar" on it and put on front forks 6" over stock. No adjustment to the rake of the frame you understand, just 6" over stock front forks Such lunacy was common back then. And back then the CB750 was "the first superbike", though I believe my KLR might actually be faster than the '69 CB.

Ten years later, I was a grad student during the Benchracer era at Texas A&M. Texas A&M hosts an uber-conservative, tradition-bound student Military organization called the Corps of Cadets. When the Benchracers would gather for breakfast at an off-campus coffee and taco joint,looking all unshaven and leather clad, thinly veiled looks of disgust from passing Corps of Cadet members were not uncommon.

This we quietly found humorous as there were a couple of Military vets in our ranks, and also a former Police Detective who after having been shot in the line of duty, was attending Veterinary school.

Actually, I had a number of Corps of Cadet members in the class section I taught and usually got along with them pretty well. One of them was from Idaho, had a Honda 750 up there (already called the "Nighthawk" IIRC), and he was all amazed to learn I had ridden up to Idaho and back on a 550 Yamaha a couple of years earlier. He hadn't thought it possible.

The next year the same guy was appointed Commander of the Corps of Cadets and got a big write-up in "The Battalion" (campus newspaper). They made a big deal of how he had just ridden his motorcycle down from Idaho (the nefarious influence of the Benchracers in action )
__________________________________________________

But I digress....

Stopping for the night along the Interstate can be a chancy proposition, and this night I was not to rest easy. Not that anything happened, but I should explain...

There exists in the South a social melieu recently alluded to in Gangsta Rap tunes as the "Dirty South", wherein not everybody in the countryside is your friend, especially along the Interstate.

My alarm bells started going off immediately we pulled off the superslab, into the parking lot of a gas station that had already closed for the night. Two young Black men rolled through in an old pickup truck pulling a john boat on a trailer (fer the benefit of Australians and such, a john boat is a small, square, aluminum boat, commonly used on inland waters for fishing).

I gave 'em a friendly nod as I would any fishermen, and got back cold, appraising stares in return. My brother, not having travelled in the South before, weren't aware of the vibe.

Another warning sign: The Indian Indian lady behind the motel counter gave an evasive, non-commital answer when I asked about leaving our luggage on the bikes in front of our motel room. We were gonna bring our stuff in anyways, but this is a question I usually ask to get an idea of the surroundings.

Seems like most of our motels are run by Indian couples now, legal immigrants brought over to run their motels by other, wealthy Indians. I have taught a number of their kids over the years. Typically these foriegn people work very hard 24/7 and endure much loneliness in a strange land (and the occasional moments of sheer terror if the motel is in a bad area) all to give their kids a shot at the American dream. Quite often as well their marriages were arranged, and not all get along well so far from friends and family. In most cases these couples live in a few rooms directly behind the reception desk and spend long years at the motel, hardly ever going anywhere else.

And even in bad areas, they will strive to keep the motel looking clean and neat, so it can be hard to tell going in.

Pulling up to our room, I noticed that a car parked a few spaces down was entirely missing the passenger side window... another bad sign.

Ordinarily, I would have had a handgun somewhere in my luggage. This time there wasn't one, you can thank $%&#* New York State laws for that. Not that I WANTED to get in a shoot-out or anything like that, its just better to have a gun too is all.

One solace was that, most guys on motorcycles with Texas plates travelling through the South probably have a gun on them somewhere. I was hoping any potential assailants would realize that too. One of us was from Texas at least.

So I slept on the floor behind the door, close to the front window, not any sort of hardship as I sleep on the floor all the time anyway. I was just uneasy is all, as vehicles came and went late in the night.

We did watch World Cup highlights on the TV.

Birdwatcher

I saw a guy do much the same thing on a brand new 900 Ninja back in the 80's,...except he was doing it on a road atop a bluff which paralleled the Kentucky River.

When the tire got soft enough to gain traction, the front wheel went vertical and dumped him on his butt in the middle of the road,..where he had a ringside seat to watch his new bike wobbily make its way to the edge of the bluff, go over, and dramatically crash its way all the way to the bottom,....bouncing off of many large boulders along the way.

He was a snooty rich kid and the 40 or so motorcyclists who were observing from the parking lot of an adjoining roadside tavern immediately launched into a raucous display of knee slapping hoots and jeers.