Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 8 It was mid morning when I finally said good bye to my sister. "You're on the way to see daddy in Lagrange?" "Yeah, and then home tomorrow." I called Kathleen and advised her I'd be there in about 5. The 350 started right up and I went out the driveway and rode the few blocks to Kath's house. I didn't go in the drive but parked on the street, she came out to greet me. "I see you're ready to go" "yeah looking for a good ride today." "when you do you think you'll be back this way?" "I dunno baby, I'm going to Virginia for a wedding soon, then school starts." "promise me you'll be good" "You know I can't do that" I put my helmet back on, and strapped it on. Then I hit the starter, nodded my head at her, and dropped into gear, and was gone. I went back to Rainbow Drive and found US 276 East, in the business district and left Gadsden in the mirrors. It was another warm and muggy morning. My plan today is to take a look at what Cheaha Mountain was all about. Rumor was some good riding there. It was mid morning and the road was once again all mine. I saw very few cars. I went to SR 9 near and entered the Talledega National Forest. About 11am I took a butt break at a old store just prior to entering the National Forest. I had a Moon Pie and Coke. The lady in the store was curious, but made no move to start a conversation. "Nice day huh?" As I sat on a chair near the wall. "yes it is," all she said. "well I reckon she don't wanna talk." (A few years ago I was near the scene on the 1100 but I couldn't find the store, but that doesn't mean it is not there, could be replaced by a modern store I couldn't recognize.) After the hint, I figured it would be best for me to leave. I rode on into the forest and the riding was good. I'll never forget I saw 2 guys entering the highway on brand new Kawasaki Z1s. The bike had only been out a few months, and it was taking the motorcycle market by storm. I never thought they could ever make a bike that was better than the CB 750, but somebody did. (a year later I owned one) A quick check of the map at a old fruit stand near Anniston told me SR 281 was not far, and I was going in the correct direction. Here, I begin a life long affair with Cheaha Mountain. Compared to all the roads and places I've been it is not that big a deal, I get it, but this day was the first real leaning of my career. SR 281 has long sweeping turns and the little 350 leaned and bobbed all the way to the top. Compared to today's bikes you would call the handling scary, but back then you didn't know any better. The road curved and bent to the top of Mt. Cheaha, highest point in Alabama. The pavement was smooth and the views good. I stopped for a couple of pictures along the way.
When I reached the top I cruised the area and saw the stone observation tower. (none of which has changed very much over the years.) "Well I know what Mt. Cheaha is all about." (I still ride to Mt. Cheaha often, usually each fall. The ride to Cheaha is woven into the fabric of my being) I doubled back down the mountain the way I came and set off for Georgia, connecting over to SR 46. In Bowdon, Georgia I found a dark looking store and took a butt break with Coke and candy bar. The town was semi busy on this Monday afternoon. A black 69 El Camino came in for gas, I made note of it because my dad had one. I left Bowdon on SR 100 and rode south to US 27, and the last few miles to LaGrange. (U.S. 27 is one of the routes I use coming home from the Blue Ridge each fall) In 1973 LaGrange was still a small town. I had no trouble finding the Heart of LaGrange Motel, the name was justified, it was located right in the downtown business district. It was late afternoon when I pecked on my dads door. "hey now!" "Come on in." He was surprised to see me, even though he was expecting me. I guess he thought I'd back out at the last minute. He debriefed me on my ride so far, and all was good. My dad was working on a church in the area. "so how's the trip been so far?" "Been good, real good." After each of us took a shower we loaded up in his El Camino for supper at one of his favorite local places. It was a old fashioned restaurant staffed with down home people. Supper was a nice order of fried chicken and vegetables. The legal age in Georgia at the time was 18, meaning I could buy beer or drink if I wanted. They felt kind of neat, and even though I didn't drink, I did feel different. While my dad was paying the bill I picked up a postcard off the rack to send De De a note. On way back we stopped for a few things to drink and snack on back at room. Our conversations covered a lot of ground. We drove by his job site and he told me a little about what he does. Back at the room we turned on the old B and W tv and tuned in to one of 4 Atlanta channels. I sat at the table and worked on my journal, then made a note on the post card for De. I walked it over to mail box outside the office. My dad was tired and fell asleep around 9pm, I kept the tv on low volume but got up around 10 turn it off. I had a short ride home in the morning, and was sad to see the trip almost over. Next-trouble on the way home.
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